fandomhigh | Luau: The Main Campfire: Friday Evening

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!event: friday events

Luau: The Main Campfire: Friday Evening

The irony of having a Hawaiian luau while in Greece probably hadn't escaped anyone. But given that the majority of the students probably couldn't pinpoint Hawaii on the map, it didn't seem like that was enough of a reason to cancel what had become a summer tradition.

So in the early evening, the main campfire was transformed into a party place with coconuts, grass skirts, and leis for everyone. A pig was slowly roasting over the fire, and a huge ~~moddable~~ buffet spread out to the flagpole.

A dance floor was set up, and Hawaiian music was playing, but there was also plenty of grass spread with blankets for the less-rhythm-inclined.

[OOC: YAAAAAY LUAU! Students, teachers, and townies all welcome!]

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Amber blinked. What did she think? "I guess that depends, Cal, on your loyalty to your grandma, or rather your loyalty to your dad."

Cal's head bobbed, mildly considering this. "Good point. Dad wasn't as big on the idea as my grandmother was, and my grandmother's still alive, so based on the pure amount of badgering about it alone..."

"I guess it would be nice to do it, huh? Is the church family owned or somethin'?" asked Amber.

"Nah, it's just my grandmother was really religious," Cal explained, "but my father was not. Not once he realized exactly how much he was paying for votive candles each time. No, my dad, if he had a religion, was an advocate of the god of cash. So I think he offered to help rebuild the church in Smyrna to make it his heathen ways up to her."

"Repentance in the form of manual labor, niiiice," she nodded, actually thinking it was a worthwhile endeavor despite his dad's love of money. "Most people are, you know? Advocates of the god of cash. It can rule lives and create beasts. What happened to him, your dad?"

"Car accident," Cal answered, simply enough. In fact, that was almost blatantly simple, for what really happened. He rubbed the back of his neck a little.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, an automatic response to death, but it was still very much meant. Amber wasn't going to ask further questions regarding it, but she did wonder how old Cal was when his dad died. Growing up without one, she was always curious as to others. Probably not a natural feeling but it was there nonetheless.

Cal shrugged a little. "Nothing you can really do about it, anyway," he said, noncommittally, thinking that, wow, he really knew how to bring around the best conversations ever, now, didn't he?

Well, Amber did ask so it was partly her fault for the turn in coversation.

"Do you dance, Cal?"

Cal couldn't help wondering if she'd asked because she was interested in dancing with him or just as a new conversation topic that didn't involve dead parents, but dismissed the first one as mostly ridiculous. Still, he'd better answer on the safe side of things.

"No, not really."

Amber considered that answer for a moment. Perhaps he replied more on the artistic side of dance, and really, just couldn't dance, not that he really disliked it or anything. So she thought to define his answer more clearly.

"Would you dance with me if I asked you?"

That tended to narrow down speculations just a bit more. Cal held in a breath between tight lips, head down against the blushing he was pretty sure he was doing. Times like this, he really missed his long hair. It hid his face, and, most likely, if he had his long hair, Amber wouldn't have been asking something like that or, if she did, it would be a lot easier to assume its innocence.

What made it worse was that he had no idea how to answer that. Of course he'd want to, on a certain level, but the reasons why he didn't were much more plentiful and convincing. Odd were, she'd only ask because he was just a nice guy, but that wasn't true and if she knew otherwise she probably wouldn't ask. She probably wouldn't even talk to him and would hate the fact that she ever even did in the first place...

"Your poor feet if I did," was all he managed to come up with.

Smiling gently at his blush, she wondered what was going through his mind as he took his time in replying. It didn't bode well for her and she shifted uncomfortably. Rejection, in any form and no matter the subject, could suck and Amber figured he was trying to come up with a way to tell her no.

She looked down when he answered and shrugged a shoulder, trying to play it off. "It's okay. I often just dance by myself anyway," Amber said quietly.

Crisis averted. There was still the whole fact that he was still talking to her longer than he probably should have, but he couldn't exactly just stop without coming off as a complete jerk. Even if that did kind of solve the problem if she did think that way about him, he couldn't bring himself to do it. If anything, they'd have to see each other at rehearsals, and that could just get awkward.

...More awkward, anyway.

"You must be pretty good at it by now, then," he offered.

Amber smiled, glanced back over at him. "I've been tappin' since I was a little girl. I'm kind of good at it, yah," she said without managing to sound boastful. "I guess the only thing I am really good at."

Cal smirked a little. "I think my mom wanted to get me into ballet at some point," he commented, scrunching up his face to show a clear and evident distaste for the idea. It didn't even strike him until afterwards that the idea sounded even more ludicrous than he intended, for obvious reason.

"It can't be the only thing you're good at," he also added.

"Ballet, uh?" Amber said more to herself as her eyes swept over him. His build was slight and she was under the impression that most ballet dancers were slender and light. Maybe why his mom wanted to get him involved. But his expression did not warrant further discussion of that subject.

"Well," she mused, twisting her lei around her neck. "I used to work in a morgue so I can paint the dead to look happy and healthy, just appearin' to be asleep."

That got a blink or two out of Cal.

"You used to work in a morgue?"

"Yah, you betcha," she told him. "It was easy to practice my tap."

...and that didn't make much sense, but Amber clearly didn't get that.

Cal scratched his chin a bit. "How do a morgue and tap go together?"

"The floor was smooth tile," she explained.

"What? So you tapped while you did up all the dead stiffs?"

"I did," Amber replied, looking slightly shifty. "I had to get my practicin' in, so I had to do it at work."

Amber? Now officially ranked among the coolest girls ever. Not that it was hard, because there were probably only a handful of them there as it were (and he was related to one), but still.

"Pretty clever," he complimented with a light grin.

She grinned wide and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Yah, thanks. Just do what you gotta do, I guess."

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