Special topics in calamity physics - By Marisha Pessl Page 0,74

those in masks sipping straws in blue and red plastic cups, others eating pretzels and crackers, trying to make themselves heard over the meat-cleaving

music. "Who're all these people?" asked Charles, frowning. "I don't recognize them," said Jade. "I guess they're friends of Hannah's," said Leulah, "You see her?" "No." "Even if she was here," said Milton, "it'd be impossible to tell which one

she was. Everyone's wearin' masks." "I'm freezing," said Jade. "We should have masks," Milton said. "That's what the invite said." "Where the fuck are we going to find masks now?" asked Charles. "There's Perôn," said Lu. "Where?" "The woman with the sparkly halo thing." "That's not her." "Seriously," said Jade uneasily, "what are we even doing here?" "You guys can sit here all night," said Nigel, "but I, for one, am going to

enjoy myself." He was wearing his Zorro mask and his glasses. He looked like

an erudite raccoon. "Who else wants to have some fun?" For some reason, he was looking at me. "What do you say, old broad? Shall we dance?" I adjusted my wig. We left the others, hurrying across the yard—one nerdy raccoon and an inverted carrot—to Hannah's patio.

It was jam packed. Four men dressed as rats and a mermaid beauty queen with a half-mask of blue sequins were actually in the swimming pool, laughing, throwing a volleyball. We decided to make our way inside (see "Walking upstream in the Zambezi River during a flood period," Quests, 1992, p. 212). We crammed ourselves into a space between the plaid couch and a pirate talking to a devil oblivious to the repercussions of his massive sweaty back when he suddenly and without warning backed it into two much smaller people.

For twenty minutes, we didn't do anything but sip vodka out of the red plastic cups and watch the people—none of whom we recognized—crawling, slithering, waddling their way around the room in costumes ranging from the teensy-weensy to the wholly insurmountable.

"Butterfly hazy!" Nigel shouted, shaking his head.

I shook my head and he repeated himself.

"This is totally crazy!"

I nodded. Hannah, Eva Brewster and the animals were nowhere to be found, only graceless birds, doughy sumo wrestlers, unvelcroed reptiles, a Queen who'd removed her crown and distractedly gnawed on it as her eyes strolled the room, probably searching for a King or Ace to come royally flush her.

If Dad had been present, he'd undoubtedly have commented that most of the adults present were "dangerously close to relinquishing their dignity" and that it was sad and disturbing, because "they were all searching for something they'd never recognize, even if they found it." Dad was notoriously severe when it came to commenting upon the behaviors of all people other than himself. Yet, watching a mid-forties Wonder Woman stumble backward into Hannah's neat stack of Traveler magazines made me wonder if the very idea of Growing Up was a sham, the bus out of town you're so busy waiting for, you don't notice it never actually comes.

"What are they speaking?" Nigel shouted in my ear.

I followed his eyes to the astronaut standing a few feet away. He was holding his pressure helmet, a stocky man with a sideways sigma hairline (X) talking vigorously to a gorilla.

"I think it's Greek," I said, surprised. ("The language of the Titans, the Oracles, " said Dad. (This last bit apparently meant "the language of heroes.") Dad loved showing off his bizarre aptitude when it came to foreign languages. (He claimed to be fluent in twelve; yet fluent often meant yes and no, plus a few impressive phrases, and enjoyed repeating a certain witticism about Americans and their dearth of language skills: "Americans need to master lingual before they attempt bilingual.")

"I wonder who that is," I said to Nigel. The gorilla took off its head, revealing a small Chinese woman. She nodded, but answered in some other guttural language that made a person's mouth break-dance. I wasn't even sure I'd heard Greek in the first place. I leaned closer.

"Aye, Savannah," said Nigel, squeezing my arm.

"Again," I shouted.

"I see Hannah."

He grabbed my hand and yanked me through two Elvises.

"So where'd you come from?" asked Elvis: Aloha from Hawaii. "Reno," said a very sweaty Elvis on Tour drinking from a blue plastic cup.

"She went upstairs," Nigel said into my ear, trying to get us past Sodom and Gomorrah, Leopold and Loeb, Tarzan and Jane, who'd just managed to find each other in this jungle and were talking with a great deal of clothing fiddling. I didn't know why Nigel