The Party

The gathering was just as numerous, and the guests were just as special as promised. Jean had somehow managed to round up every soon-to-be Astronomy Club member from the lower years that were in town, as well as representatives of most clubs they were on good terms with, and one more very, very special guest. The strangely familiar and yet so unfamiliar man from before was Howard Gar, the sixteenth club leader. The current members of the club - and Clement, personally - owed much to this unremarkable, pensive man, so they immediately rose from their seats and surrounded him, exchanging pleasantries, laughing, and joking.

For a moment, the quarrel and its dishonourable resolution was almost forgotten, and they talked and laughed just like the old days, before the budget cuts, before the election drama, and before the leadership crisis that drove away more than half of this year’s members. Even the former head of the student council, a short, rattish man whose name Clement never bothered learning, probably invited out of pity rather than for any particular merit, spoke to everyone freely, just as he had on the first day of school, before his scheming nature revealed itself.

Though time had left its unkind mark on everyone, it was most evident on [former club president]. His formerly bright eyes became perpetually narrowed and much duller, seeming to slide off whatever he was looking at and redirect into a void. Even his signature style of dressing (shaped by clothing brands few in the town could even pronounce) had given way to the much more conforming short-sleeve dress shirt and shorts. It was evident that the few years he had spent studying astrophysics had come at an immense cost, but the club members found solace in the fact that this was still the same person - nihilistic but lighthearted, with an excellent sense of humour and a quick, inquiring mind.

Having exchanged pleasantries with everyone, distributed plates and extra chairs from the crawl space below (as the group exceeded twenty that evening), and making sure he was far enough from Andrew on account of not having forgiven his earlier trick yet, Clement looked around for a suitable person to voice his concerns to. The issue was that everyone appeared almost too happy, considering what had happened between some of them over the years. The chance to complain came when he spotted Evan Miller, a fellow club member, standing at the edge of the room, having just taken out a small but sturdy ladder and closed the hatch to the claustrophobic crawl space. Evan had arrived with the others, and so must have seen much more of this, and given his tendency to hold grudges, would probably agree.

In a voice only audible to his friend, Clement voiced his doubts: “Was everyone this… nonchalant when you met them earlier?”

Evan seemed confused: “Yeah, why?”

“Well, it’s just uncharacteristic. Why’s that office rat here, anyways? We are gathered here very much against his best efforts, rather than for.”

“Ah. I suppose.” his face darkened a little as he gave it some thought. “I dunno, I find it pretty cool that everyone’s acting so nice around each other. After all, this might be the last time we see each other!”

“Mmm. I guess you’re right.” Clement’s concerns seemed trivial in the face of this usually vindictive guy being so happy. It was kind of endearing how friendly everyone was all of a sudden, given that the last argument only took place in May. Of course, not everyone was as involved in those events as he was, and not everyone had such a good memory as him, but even Andrew, whose involvement and memory far exceeded his own, was laughing away with the deputy chairman of the yearbook club, another key figure.

He congratulated Evan on his admission to a prestigious American university, a fact that had been known for months but was still impressive enough to commend a great deal of respect, and walked away. The other pessimist he could consult was Eliza Bennett, a delicate young lady with wavy brown hair serving as their secretary, but even she appeared busy showing a few underclassmen the moon crust sample they had won at a trivia competition last year.

Life went on, he supposed, but didn’t feel a particular need to join it at that moment. Instead, he filled up a plate with the assortment of Chinese food from the tiny restaurant in downtown Riverburg owned by a retired couple and got to work on it.

When he had just refilled his plate, he saw someone sit in the empty chair next to him in his peripheral vision.

“Good to see that you’re enjoying yourself.” the club president said, her tone completely deadpan. Her voice was clear and pleasant despite the abundance of unmarked bottles circulating around the room, giving Clement hope for a proper conversation. He turned to face her, mirroring her deadpan expression and tone.

“Time sure flies when you’re having fun.”

“Sure does. Glad at least someone’s enjoying the food, though. Spent our remaining yearly budget on it.”

“Strange, thought we’ve been running on fumes since the new year. Food’s exquisite though. Try some yourself.” He gestured towards a plate of egg rolls - the restaurant’s choices were pretty basic for fear of nobody knowing the difference between an egg roll and a spring roll, but they were always above expectations, especially for the price.

She obliged wordlessly, taking two, but then commented as if remembering something: “Good point. Haven’t had much to eat today.”

“Busy day?”

She took a bite from one of the rolls and reclined into the chair in bliss. “Unimaginably busy.”

This was true, Clement simply couldn’t imagine an entire day of this. After all, that was the reason he wasn’t the club president. He figured he could bear it for a little bit, though, both to help her out and to combat the ever-rising feeling of dread that filled him. “I could take over, if you want. You know, when it’s time to go see the actual comet.”

“Showing initiative for once? Isn’t it a little too late for that? Not gonna stop you, though.” She seemed surprised, but relieved.

“Just trying to help out. Can’t imagine dealing with this all day.” She finished her egg rolls in silence, sat next to him for a while longer, but quickly had to get up because Eliza called her to explain how they came in possession of their pallasite asteroid.

The rest of the evening was a blur - he answered questions, shared jokes and stacked his plate thrice more, but could not push himself to be more in the moment. Instead, he waited for the moment he was now in charge of announcing, carefully selecting the words he would use. He was, of course, apprehensive, but it wasn’t the public speaking that so intimidated him - rather it was the uncomfortable conversation that would follow the event.