Last night, I was hired to perform magic at a high school prom, held at a local country club. There were 1,000 or more, and they were Orange County kids, mostly white and Asian, middle class, nice. The morning after, I’m thinking back on them, so many of whom seemed sweet to me.
The girls so proud of their fabulous dresses.
The teenage boy with gorgeous curly surfer hair, standing in line outside with his gorgeous girlfriend in the striking red dress, holding hands. And you know every girl wants him and every boy wants her and they both know it.
The uncool kids dancing to the quaint jazz band rather than to the superloud house music.
The nerd, slouched and bespectacled, walking around stag, trying not to look lost and unsure what to do or who to ask to dance.
The kids there with same-sex partners, no harassment.
The other kids going stag, or in groups with other kids who didn’t have dates, trying to have a good time.
The brash girl with blue hair, coming off, like, “I’m not going to go through life getting lost in the crowd!”
The girl Alexis who had 35-year-old eyes, like she knew everything already, and she probably did.
The table of Asian kids freaking out en masse at every trick and amazement I performed, screaming “Whoaaaaaaa!” and begging me not to leave, just one more trick.
At one point, I leaned over to an adult chaperone my age, and whispered, “Are these kids like we were?” And she said, with a grin, “They’re better.”