Too Good for Prom

[MurderWeasel]

((Aaron Hughes continued from Decisions, Decisions))

At eleven PM, Aaron Hughes was sitting at home, browsing the internet, arguing about the merits of various editions of Dungeons and Dragons, and generally have an incredibly mundane evening. Somewhere out there in the Minnesota night, his classmates were dancing their worries away, enjoying one last big evening of togetherness, one last shared experience before being torn asunder by college, employment, and the rest of the real world.

Aaron did not envy them.

He didn't like his classmates for the most part. It wasn't that he disliked them, at least, not beyond the standard degree of annoyance presented by anyone with whom one was forced to spend large amounts of time despite lacking any common ground whatsoever. More, he just didn't see anything admirable about his peers. They were all so caught up in the silly things in life. The romances, grades, sports, and parties that seemed so important now would soon be forgotten or distorted, abandoned or glorified to a towering highpoint of life that would cast a dismal shadow upon present circumstances for years to come.

Aaron didn't need that.

He wasn't going to end up that way, no, never. So his grades weren't the best in the school. So what? It wasn't because he wasn't one of the more intelligent students. In fact, if anything, it was a testament to his cunning. He knew that grades didn't matter beyond college applications. He couldn't understand why so many other students tried so hard to do well, wasting hours working towards an entirely useless end. He put in enough effort to do decently, and that was all he needed. He definitely didn't have only upper-average grades because he was less capable than his classmates. Definitely not.

Aaron sighed.

Still, even with his feelings for his classmates, even with his complete and utter disdain for Prom and all that it stood for, he felt a little bit left out. He felt a little bit lonely. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do. Sure, he could have called Will or Bounce, but he didn't know if they were going to Prom, and even if he had known they weren't he would never have called them in this state. No, the only thing worse than a bout of pathetic sentimentality was making it public. He'd never have lived it down. He'd make it through one night. It wasn't really any different from any other night. The only reason it was special was because of a large-scale social contract, one made by the very people Aaron never wanted to become. The mere fact that he was having doubts was evidence of society's insidious ability to manipulate the perceptions and emotions of those who didn't bother to conform.

Still, it stung a bit.

Aaron looked at the clock. Ten past eleven. He didn't even know when the stupid dance ended. He probably should have been getting some sleep, but he wasn't tired. He couldn't sleep in this state. He distracted himself with more pointless bickering online. He didn't even care that much about the arguments. Yeah, people didn't agree with him, but that was because they were, at least in the case of roleplaying games, idiots. What was that saying? "Never argue with an idiot; they'll drag you down to their level, and they have the benefit of experience"? Something of the sort.

Aaron shifted a little.

It shouldn't have been bugging him, but for some reason the stupid dance was driving him crazy. He'd never been to a school dance. He'd never wanted to go to one. They were cesspools of idiocy and pop culture, the worst of high school, the events that worked to filter out anyone remotely interesting to spend time around.

So why couldn't he quite believe it?

"Fuck Prom," he muttered. It made him feel a little bit better. No one else was in the house; his parents had gone out to see a movie, and weren't due back for another half hour or so. He raised his voice a little.

"Fuck Prom.

"It's just for losers anyways."

((Aaron Hughes continued in Lunch on the Lawn))