The Nostalginauts

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“So, you wanna go to the prom?”

“Why?” I asked. “Like, I thought the Chess Club was going to I hang on Geek-web.”

It was going to be a worldwide hook-up of dateless losers. You can’t say we don’t know how to have a good time.

“I just think I ought to be there,” Gar said. “At the prom.” He shrugged. I shrugged.

We were on the steps of the old Carnegie-built library—its motto: One hundred years, nothing controversial yet—and were watching the church across the street. A wedding. That meant the possibility of time travelers. Or not. Entertaining either way.

“So why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why not Net Girl?”

“She’s too popular.”

True. She’s only a junior and already has five electronic boyfriends. She also weighs three hundred pounds. But a hell of a website.

“Besides,” he said. “You clean up nice. Remember Halloween? You were hot on Halloween.”

There was action inside the church now, people opening the doors, spilling outside. We craned forward.

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