As couples danced, arm in arm, a few teachers milled around the dance hall and corrected the dancers postures. The authority figures took their jobs to heart, making sure the students weren't too close, kept the proper arm distance length away and didn't shake their hips too much.
Tracy had to laugh at the way the teachers thought they could control the night; you can't stop a beat that's in your heart, once your feet hear that music, a person could literally get whisked away to a place where they could let themselves go wild and free.. which was exactly what happened once she got on the dance floor with Link.
The music started bouncing, her feet followed. It was by some new band from Britain called The Beatles who were all the rage these days, much to the teacher's chagrin. "Look, Seaweed is playing with the radio."
"Looks like he's going to get in a bit of trouble.. should make for another fun detention party." As a few teachers rushed forward to change the radio settings, the song flooded the air. "Love, love me do, you know I love you," Link sang along, bopping his head with the rhythm. Together, they whirled along the dance floor, casually unaware of the commotion that Seaweed was causing by the radio, and performed a few trade moves from The Corny Collins Show.
Some of the other teens watched as she swirled in her chiffon strapless prom dress her mother had made for her specially for this night. She'd debated with her mother for ages about making it strapless. It was unwomanly, her mother told her, not at all proper to be showing her bare shoulder. And what would the teachers say?
This was the 1960s though, Tracy reminded her, times were changing and styles were coming and going. Everything was happening all at once: woman's liberation, integration, dresses getting shorter and besides, the teachers had their hands full reprimanding Seaweed that they barely gave much thought to what she was or wasn't wearing.
It was all going along perfectly, that was until she swung her arms above her head in such a rush, dancing the mash potato to the next song on Seaweed's playlist. It was another banned rock song, something he said was by the Rolling Stones, whoever they were. All Tracy could hear however, was the sound of the seam of her dress ripping right down her back.
Tracy clutched at her dress as it began to slide off, just in time before her breasts made a surprise appearance at the party. Tracy watched as Penny Pingleton's eyes went wide. Her more modest best friend looked a bit shocked, and more than a little worried. A little smile graced Tracy's lips, faked in order to appear to have the situation under control.
"Oh no, oh Link." She stopped short, reaching her hands behind her to find out how big the tear was and if it was fixable. Instinctively, he took off his pinstripe suit jacket and wrapped it over her shoulders. "Can you come with me to the hallway so I can put a pin in this or something?"
"Sure thing, Trace." He nodded, and disappointing all the onlookers who had been watching their dancing intently. Waving goodbye to them all, Link moved his attention to the one who needed it the most. His girl, the one he swore to take care of forever.
"I can't believe it," Tracy said as they walked out into the hallway. She handed him back his jacket and surveyed the damage in a nearby mirror. "I told my mother it needed to be taken out, but she thought it looked fine. What am I going to do now?"
Link raised his eyebrows, "Well, if the dress won't stay on, maybe we should-"
Tracy laughed, "Oh, no. Stop that thought right there, buddy. I know where you're going with that."
"Okay, okay," Link reassured her. They'd had this talk before. Even though free love was all the rage, they were going to wait until they were older and married. Nevertheless, he couldn't help kissing her neck and he accepted the pins she handed him and tried to fix the dress back into place. "We can wait. We've got our whole lives ahead of us now. Once we make it to Hollywood, we'll be one of those famous couples that everyone looks up to.. like Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall."
"Only I won't be two and a half decades younger than you," Tracy responded with an amused grin, as she backed the two of them up into another hallway, this one much emptier. She turned around and returned the kisses. Link held her dress up, as she pinned him to a wall and stole a kiss, but as their make out session got more heated, his hands found other places to rest and her dress started falling off.
As she ran her hand along the spot on his neck that always made him quiver, Link traced circles around her nipples, right over the fabric, causing them to stand up even more than they already were. They pushed against the wall, eventually sliding down it to the floor where they continued. She moaned and kissed him harder, deeper, longer.. until she heard someone clear their throat.
"Tracy Turnblad and Link Larkin! I am deeply ashamed of you."
They broke apart suddenly.
The principal of their high school tapped his foot on the cold marble floor of the hallway, as Tracy glanced up. "Uh oh.. I can explain."
"Detention for both of you." The principal handed out the pink slips, letting them flutter to the ground in front of them. Then, not wasting a moment, he pulled Link up by the ear and hauled him away from the girl he'd been ravaging only moments ago. "Come along, young man, we're going to have to speak to your mother about your indecent behavior."
"See you in detention, Trace."
She smiled, knowing it was going to be one heck of a party, now that Seaweed, Link and herself were all set to spend yet another afternoon sequestered together with the rest of the dancers from school. "Meet you there, Link."