1982 (41 page)

BY EARLY DECEMBER
, my countdown dance event at Thornlea was set to become a reality. I desperately wanted it to be successful, since I knew that if it wasn’t, I would take the blame. Success meant a big crowd at the gymnasium. And fortunately, we got it. Whether it was the concept or—more likely—the desire to attend a blowout high school event before the Christmas break, students turned up in strong numbers. In fact, it became successful enough that I held sequel countdown dances for the next couple of years, and they grew in popularity to become part of Thornlea social lore. Voting to choose the most popular songs was held with good intentions each year, but the results would somehow end up mirroring my interests. I accept that this looks suspicious. I can report that the number-one song of Countdown ’83 at Thornlea was “Let’s Dance” by Bowie. I can neither confirm nor deny that any ballots were tampered with. I can only tell you that it was a fantastically correct outcome.

Janelle had become one of the main organizers of our inaugural countdown dance in the late fall of ’82. A few folks from the TSA were involved and working very hard to put the event together, but it always felt like a partnership between Janelle and me. John Ruttle was an essential part of the logistics team, Jane Decker oversaw many of the details and coordinated with teachers and the administration, and my friend Daniel
Steinberg agreed to be the DJ who would preside over actually playing the top twenty songs of the countdown plus all the music in between. Daniel was a tech-savvy music fan who had a floppy New Wave haircut that made him look a bit like Alex Lifeson from Rush. He was a punk rock fan, and once, while the Clash were playing on the stereo in his bedroom, he gave me a private demonstration of how he could crush a beer can with his head. He was quite cynical about the world and would regularly greet me by saying, “Fuck you and hello.” But Daniel was a friend and had acquired some fine turntables and DJ equipment. He was also a punk with a strange predilection for Phil Collins. His one condition for DJing was that I agree to let him end the dance with “In the Air Tonight” as the final song after the countdown had been completed. Phil Collins had released that song the previous year, and it was beloved. It was actually pretty cool and exhibited some masterful musicianship that can be found on the rest of his debut album. Phil Collins was not yet considered a sugary pop sellout. I agreed to Daniel Steinberg’s condition to let him play “In the Air Tonight.” Daniel also understood my love for Bowie and was committed to respecting it by spinning Bowie music at various points throughout the night.

The balloting for our schoolwide countdown was a little less rigorous than I had hoped. I did my best to distribute ballots, and a few hundred Thornlea students named some of their favourite songs. I tabulated the votes and compiled an official list that would encompass our high school’s collective voice about the best tracks of 1982.

The gymnasium ended up looking quite impressive. We had the song titles and album covers projected onto a giant screen
as the countdown progressed. The list would include “Freeze-Frame” by the J. Geils Band, “Down Under” by Men at Work, and “I Want Candy” by Bow Wow Wow. The number-one song of the year with the most number of votes turned out to be “Don’t You Want Me” by the Human League. Like I said, the list just happened to be in line with my tastes.

When I secretly showed Janelle the full countdown list the day before the dance, she registered her support for the winner.

“I’m not sure I understand your list addiction,” she said dryly. “But I’m glad it’s ‘Don’t You Want Me’ at the top. I like that song.”

Janelle was also a big fan of Phil Collins, so his giant atmospheric hit was one that appealed to her as well. She was thrilled to hear that Daniel Steinberg had lobbied to end the night with that song. And it certainly was refreshing not to be bringing things to a close with the classic but ubiquitous Zeppelin song “Stairway to Heaven.” Janelle and I agreed that if we weren’t too preoccupied running the event, we should dance the final dance together. It would be a cool slow dance, after all. “You better save ‘In the Air Tonight’ for me,” she said.

It felt good to have a plan with Janelle. It was reassuring knowing she was around and that we were in this together. I knew that while other guys would want to dance with her at this event, she’d be unlikely to give anyone else the chance. Even though we had not declared ourselves as a couple, it was clear to me that Janelle believed we were an item, and I wanted to respect that.

As it turned out, there wasn’t all that much work for me to do once the event began. Things went quite smoothly. The gym filled with Thornlea students. Stashes of alcohol and pot
covertly found their way into the dance. That made people happy. Things were generally fine and orderly. Exciting, even. At one point, Tim Matheson, the infamous and aggressive Thornlea punk who had spent some time in jail, accosted me on the dance floor and started yelling about the lack of Dead Kennedys music on the countdown. I tried to respond that it was the student body that had determined the list, but reasoning with him was never really a possibility. He soon got distracted anyway. I was grateful for this. I’m pretty sure Tim Matheson understood that it wasn’t as empirical a list as I claimed it to be.

I spent most of the night overseeing things and dancing with John Ruttle and Janelle and Valerie Tiberius, amongst others. It seemed destined to be a fun and relatively uneventful evening. When I wasn’t overseeing things or dancing, I was standing in front of Daniel Steinberg at the DJ booth. I was laughing out loud watching John kick up his feet to the music and do a comical routine with his lanky body. I watched the red-and-white light show animating the dance floor and the music. Our Thornlea gym looked as cool as I’d ever seen it.

“Hi, stranger.”

I felt a tap on my shoulder. The voice behind me was familiar. The voice sent nervous energy through my body. I turned around. Everything stopped. I was momentarily stunned.

It was Wendy.

My heart dropped. I had barely seen her for weeks. I had never dared assume she might come to a silly dance like this. She was too punk. Or cool. Or something. But here she was, and she was smiling. Her eyes had the same twinkle I had
seen at the Police Picnic. She looked exactly how she had the first time I’d seen her the previous year in Grade 9. Her blond hair swooped across one side of her face. She was wearing a black blazer with a tank top underneath. She was the coolest New Wave girl in the world. She still looked like Bowie. But somehow she was even prettier now.

“Wendy! Hi! Hello! I didn’t know you’d come to this …” She shrugged and smiled again. “Yeah, why not? Hey, it’s a cool event, Jian. Way to go. I like some of the music.”

She was being sweet, the way she’d been when she stuck up for me against Forbes. I scanned the immediate area. She appeared to be alone. There were students I didn’t recognize dancing around us. I leaned in closer to make sure she could hear me over the music.

“Well, um … thanks for coming.”

“How are you doing, Jian?”

“I’m great. Yeah, really great. Is your … is Joe … is Joseph here?”

“Joe? Ha! No … we haven’t been together since October. We were never quite right for each other.” Wendy rolled her eyes. “Besides, he didn’t have a red-and-blue Adidas bag.”

“I have a briefcase now,” I replied, much faster than I wanted to.

I wondered if she was making fun of me. I pulled away to assess. She wasn’t. She laughed. We both laughed. And she was no longer with Joe.

“Wendy, it’s really amazing to see you.”

“Yeah, Jian. It’s actually really nice to see you as well.” The countdown had progressed. Daniel Steinberg was now spinning “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell. The opening synth
sounds were filling the spaces between our words. Soft Cell were quite high on the list. I pointed towards the speakers as if to say, “Check out this song.” I knew Wendy was likely a fan, because they were New Wave and cool.

Wendy nodded to acknowledge the tune. Then she looked towards the doors at the back of the gym.

“Hey … I just need to hit the bathroom. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Yeah. Cool. Of course.”

And then she was gone. I tried to compose myself and get some perspective. Wendy was probably at the dance with another guy. She’d been nice to me, but that was no reason to believe she cared about me any more than she did for any other arm’s-length friend. I had spent a fair bit of time trying to clear Wendy from my mind throughout the fall. Surely the fact that she was making a cameo appearance at this dance and saying hello wasn’t enough to revive my infatuation with her. She probably wasn’t going to return. In fact, she definitely wasn’t.

“Is she one of the girls from Theatre Troupe?”

Janelle was standing beside me and had likely witnessed my reaction upon seeing Wendy.

“Oh … no … she wasn’t in Troupe.”

“So, how do you know her?” Janelle’s curiosity was perfectly natural but felt intrusive right at this moment.

“She’s just … she’s the younger sister of one of Jila’s friends. Also, we went to the Police Picnic together in the summer.”

“Oh … that’s Wendy.”

Janelle said this in a low, matter-of-fact tone. She nodded her head quickly. She knew exactly who Wendy was. It was
the first time I sensed Janelle knew the extent to which I’d been crazy about Wendy. I thought I had hidden it. I’d barely mentioned her, but there must have been something about how I’d once explained our day at the Police Picnic. Janelle was smart. She hadn’t spoken the words “that’s Wendy” as a question. She said her name knowingly. I felt confused. But I didn’t owe her any explanations. It’s not like Janelle was my girlfriend. I had been clear about that.

Jane Decker swept in with another TSA member and pulled Janelle away to deal with something about photos for the yearbook. I told Janelle I’d see her when she was done and stood trying to make sense of the rush of emotions I had felt seeing Wendy. But why was I even thinking any more about this? Wendy had disappeared. Why was I so easily churned up? Then, just as I started to believe my own pessimism, I had another surprise.

“There’s a massive lineup at the girls’ bathroom. It’s ridiculous!” She smiled and threw her arms in the air as she approached. Within less than ten minutes, Wendy had returned. She wasn’t abandoning me at all. She was already back.

“There’s no way I’m waiting!” she said. “Let’s dance!” Wendy grabbed me and dragged me to the middle of the dance floor, where a variety of punters were bopping up and down around us. The next song on the countdown was in full swing, and it was “Our Lips Are Sealed” by the Go-Go’s. We started to do our full-on, arm-swinging New Wave dance on cue.

Wendy and I chatted loudly as we danced. We were both giggling a fair bit, and I felt energized and exuberant. She told me she’d been busy working at a bookstore after school. She
asked about my sister, and my band, and my fall classes. She seemed truly interested. I realized Wendy had not changed from the caring older girl who’d attended the Police Picnic with me. Maybe I had projected all kinds of horrible qualities on her after seeing her with her older preppy boyfriend. Now her ex-boyfriend. Wendy was real. She was genuine.

And I was now more mature and more confident. Wendy and I stayed on the dance floor as the next song came on: “Just Can’t Get Enough” by Depeche Mode. I started slapping my forehead like we’d witnessed David Byrne do in the summer. Wendy followed my lead and did the same. We laughed again. I was filled with excitement. It suddenly felt like little else mattered. I was with Wendy. It was like that magical feeling from our night at the Police Picnic. Maybe this was the way things were supposed to go. Maybe this was the way my year was supposed to end. Everything was happening for a reason.

“Rock the Casbah” by the Clash was the number-three song on the countdown. The crowd was a dancing frenzy. I asked Wendy if she wanted to get a drink. She agreed, and I led her under the stage, where Daniel Steinberg had hidden a cooler with beer in it. I opened a beer for Wendy, and we sat beneath the stage, watching the dance floor through the cracks, drinking and chatting with the Clash as our soundtrack. We didn’t move for a few songs. I could have stayed there forever.

Daniel was now announcing that the big moment was here. The number-one song was about to be revealed. I grabbed Wendy’s arm and we went back on the dance floor. Daniel was speaking into the microphone from his perch at the turntables.

“All right. Here it is, everyone. The number-one song of
1982, as voted by you … ‘Don’t You Want Me’ by the Human League!”

The song began with its immediately recognizable thumping bass and synthesizer groove. Wendy and I joined the crowd dancing to the top song. I saw Murray and some other friends also bopping up and down. We shouted the chorus at the top of our lungs and pumped our fists in the air. It all felt like it was meant to be.

The Human League song ended. The countdown was over. Daniel Steinberg informed the crowd that it was time for the final tune of the night and something about it being the last chance to grab that girl you’d been thinking about. As promised, we heard the opening keyboard notes and drum machine sample of “In the Air Tonight.” Students started pairing off for a last slow dance. This was the finale I had been anticipating. But now that it had arrived, I suddenly wasn’t sure what to do. Wendy was standing in front of me and looking a bit awkward. Maybe she hated Phil Collins. I avoided making eye contact. At the same moment I realized I had totally forgotten about Janelle. She had been my support for weeks. I could see Janelle approaching. This was the song she loved. This was the song we’d talked about dancing to. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t want to look at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Janelle stop a few feet away from me. I turned fully towards Wendy. She looked up at me and extended her right hand.

“So … you want to dance to this?”

I took her hand.

Wendy and I started slow dancing. I soon had my arms around her waist and was pulling her closer to me. I’d been
silly to think Wendy might consider me too young and not good enough for her. This was all happening as it should.