Normally, boring adults like me only get to witness such things by watching teen dramas on television. But I guess it makes sense that volunteering to chaperon an end-of-summer teen dance sponsored by the Hermes High School Cheer Squad put me right where all that might be gossip-worthy would appear. Only three adults witnessed the “event of the evening” and I was one. And since one of the three was Liana’s mother, it was really only two adults who were privileged to witness Liana’s crowning act in making a foolish spectacle of herself.
Liana arrived at the dance early. Technically, she arrived late. Once the no-in-and-out policy was made clear, a subset of teens wanted to delay their entrance as long as possible. Liana and a small crowd wandered toward the Skateboard Park away from the Hermes Community Center where they had been dropped off early by parents. The small crowd returned about forty-five minutes later to officially enter the dance. As the small crowd initially wandered off, one parent—the mother of a freshman girl—commented that “Liana and her friends” were leaving to have their own party. It was as if all the others were pre-ordained as anonymous followers and the only real character in the story that was unfolding was Liana.
Chaperons divided by gender. Mothers were inside monitoring behavior and acting as if they would descend swiftly on anything that got too far out of hand. Fathers were outside, enforcing security. The parking lot was not supposed to be “the other party” that evening. The few exits were guarded by fathers. All of this kept the no-in-and-out policy intact. At teen events, enforceability is the whole of the law, especially after dark.
During the earlier “daylight” part of the dance, we were less totalitarian. Students were even surprised when I approached them in the parking lot to tell them they needed to either enter the dance or leave. It didn’t mean they took immediate action and I didn’t need them to take immediate action either. I could comfortably say, “I’m not the Gestapo. But you can’t stay in the parking much longer” and leave it at that. An hour into the dance it was dark out and the chaperons were all in our places of enforcement. Anyone who entered the parking lot was immediately approached. There was a nervous freshman football player who was at least twice Philip’s weight whose nervous father dropped him off after dark and wanted to know the exact time he should return. It was all comfortably routine. Then the convertible arrived and parked right near us.
There was a mother and a father in the convertible. The mother was driving. I soon concluded the father was not legal to drive at that moment. Both got out and approached me and the other father guarding the exit to the courtyard. They wanted to talk a little. They asked us if we had kids inside and so the two of us named our kids. They told us their freshman daughter was inside and that she did Track, not Cheer. Then they told us they had heard there had been some drinking and they had arrived to pick up their daughter. They made it sound like their daughter was not allowed to be somewhere if there was any drinking.
But we soon discovered their daughter was the sole teenager behaving in an incriminating manner. While the father from the convertible carried on a similarly jovial conversation with the pair of chaperon fathers guarding the front door, the mother emerged, holding Liana steady with a tight grip on her arm. At first I thought Liana might have been exaggerating her drunken state. But my trained eye quickly saw she had gone way beyond too much. I estimated Liana had consumed just over half a water bottle of clear hard liquor. It could have been run, vodka, gin or tequila, as long as it was clear. If any other teenager had imbibed, it was not detectable in their behavior. In contrast, Liana was staggering.
At the wrong moment, Liana defiantly pulled herself away from her mother’s steadying grip and then stepped off the curb unprepared for the change in plane. Her right leg descended the extra four inches and pulled the rest of Liana’s body downward before her left leg could even attempt to step forward to catch her center of gravity. Liana’s hands barely made it out in front of her when her body went splat horizontal onto the pavement for me and the other father guarding the exit from the courtyard to witness.
Liana had started out the evening surrounded by followers. But she was lying face down on the filthy pavement alone. Not even one so-called friend had seen Liana out to her car. There was no way for anyone from the convertible to act normal. Liana couldn’t quite be quiet, so she chose to berate herself. Liana’s father was ostentatiously too slow in returning to the passenger seat of the convertible and then he suddenly found himself scurrying toward the car. Liana’s mother did not seem to know what expression to wear on her face but settled on a detached look as she turned on the ignition and swiftly piloted her family’s exit.
Did Liana learn her lesson that night? I hope she did but I highly doubt it. There is a counterfeit bravery in what Liana did. I also think her family had spent too much of Liana’s formative years convincing her that alcohol was the primary means of finding enjoyment in social situations. Liana’s so-called friends will probably still jump at the chance to walk with her to the Skateboard Park. And I do not believe Liana is suddenly wise enough to know that none of them will ever be the kind of friend who would walk with her out to the car.
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