Crying Lambs

School is beginning to wind down for the year. Finals are still about a month away, but all of the papers/essay/take-home eams that have been assigned since January and forgotten until now, are starteing to equal stress and many sleepless nights. It has been two weeks since Maria and Grants and I have yet to be alone with, or even see, Val.
The school is putting on a Retro Throwback party tonight and, after much begging and pleading, Jess has agreed to go. He sits in the kitchen, cursing his cuff links and fixing his tie, when I walk in, dressed to kill as a modern-day Betty Boop- tight black and red polka dot dress, red peep toe heels, and elaborately curled hair (as if it isn't curly enough on its own!)
"Wow..." he lets out a wolf whistle.
I blush, smiling, "Oh, hush." I lean in to the mirror by the  back dorr, slicking cherry red lipstick over my lips.
The school ballroom is already packed when we get there, kids dressed in everything from early-American colonial to 80's flashdance stand around, drink punch, and goof around with their friends. Kent siddles up to us  almost as soon as we walk in, cutting quite a figure in his pinstripe suit and fendora.
"Early Michael Jackson?" I joke. He sticks his tounge out at me.
"Wanna dance?" he asks, shooting a look to Jess. Jess nods almost imperceptably and I put my hand in Kent's letting him twirl me on to the dance floor. 
"Oh. My. Gah." I moan later, pulling off my shoes and rubbing the heel of my feet. "How do people walk in these things?"
Kent laughs, handing me a paper cup of punch, "Most people probably get used to it- of course, I'm sure that most of them aren't as anti-heel as you are."
"I'm not anti-heel." I protest, "I just hate wearing them."
"Oh, c'mon, babygirl. I've seen you wear Converse to church."
"Ok," I conceed, "maybe I am a bit anti-heel." I stand up, straightening my dress, "I'm going to the ladie's. Be right back."
The hallway outside the ballroom is long and white, leading to the cafeteria on one side, and flanked by two heavy metal doors that lead to the huge stairway of the student center on the other. My heels click on the tile, echoing in the silence, making me edgy.
"Cecillia." the hiss comes from behind me, toward the stairway, its slight breathlessnes showing that the person doesn't want to attract un-needed attention.
"Val?"
"I'm so sorry! Grant and Maria have been all over me the past few weeks," she looks at her feet, a little embarassed, "Kent said that you were worried about me."
"Are you ok?" I grab her arms, turning them over and over, searching her face and neck, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No! Cecillia!" she grabs my face, focusing my eyes on hers, "He hasn't hurt me. Will you please tell me what happened?"