Photos by JARED SOARES The Roanoke Times

Richard Hoffman deals a round of Black Jack in the casino area during Cave Spring High School's after-prom celebration. The early morning celebration began at midnight Sunday and lasted for four hours. Above, a cup of coffee sits by a student checklist during the celebration.

Photo by Tuesday Moriarty | Special to SWoCo

Hana and Susan of Southwest Roanoke County enjoy Cave Spring High School's after-prom festivities.

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• Our Paparazzi photographer was at Cave Spring's after-prom celebration. Check out more photos at SWoCo, Southwest Roanoke County's online community.

The red carpet, the small-scale Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower made of Christmas lights.

It's nearly 1 a.m., and the masses are swarming the Cave Spring High School lobby, fresh from prom at the Hotel Roanoke & Conference Center.

Parents worked all day to make the school resemble a Parisian landscape. And before teens enter the gym decorated like European countries -- complete with "Rock Star" and "Guitar Hero" games on giant screens -- they must get through Jim Markey.

He's a dad and the official after-party's photographer. He cops a game-show voice when couples enter, whatever it takes to get that Kodak moment.

"Luck-ee couple number three," he announces.

He greets teens with hellos, knocked knuckles and street lingo that doesn't sound quite right coming from a middle-aged dad.

"Mr. Mar-kee," one girl coos.

"Whaddup, pretty?" he asks.

He insults the guys and compliments the girls in tank tops and jeans -- many still wearing prom-wilted updos and dangley rhinestone earrings.

"Black Flag 1984," Markey reads one young man's shirt. "You weren't even born in 1984!"

Later, at his photo studio, Markey will make the portraits look like postcards. It's part of "A Knight in Europe," the school's after-prom party named for the campus mascot.

It's been a decade since Markey began volunteering at after-prom. His two oldest kids have now graduated, and he has one more daughter to get through high school. Despite the past-midnight hour, he's full of energy.

"You have to make it fun -- it is fun," he said. "Kids are pumped. It's prom night."

Then, he returns his attention to the students.

"Yesss," he says, returning to his game show voice. "Lucky couple number 400 and 12 ..."

It's about sacrifice, love

Nearly every area high school hosts an after-prom on campus, often from midnight to 4 a.m., when the area's teen curfew is activated.

Organizing after-prom falls to volunteer parents. It's a duty that involves multi-tasking, organization, a sense of humor and most of all, sleep deprivation. But really, the essence is not much different than any other parental task -- sacrificing to make the kids happy.

There is also something selfish about putting on the party. With an alcohol-free after-prom, parents don't have to worry.

"Next year on prom night, we decided we'll have dinner and a few drinks and go to bed early," explained volunteer Richard Hoffman, whose daughter graduates this year.

Like many high schools, planning at Cave Spring begins in September, when parents start picking a theme and forming committees. They meet, collect donations, buy prizes that will be given throughout the night -- restaurant gift certificates to flat-screen TVs.

It all happens on an $8,000 budget raised by the parents and comes with the challenge of keeping hundreds of short-attention-spanned teens entertained all night.

Decorating begins Friday after school with the help of the football team dragging and lifting props. The work continues all day Saturday, right until teens start arriving. Hoffman estimates 90 percent of juniors and seniors spend at least part of prom night at the event.

"We spent a lot of time and effort trying to make this look not like a high school," said mom Deneille Hoffman, who heads the decoration committee.

Roughly 60 parents are here, distinguishable by their name tags. One simply reads, "queen."

Right around midnight, the Domino's man arrives with hot pizzas -- left in France, not Italy.

A mom running a game in Holland cracks open the night's first Diet Coke. The caricature artist erects her easel beside a Parisian park bench, and somewhere near the French-Dutch border, Deneille Hoffman is on her knees, taping a cord to the hardwood.

Fatigue settles in slowly

Back in the lobby, Markey continues to recruit.

He arranges couples and groups, chases those who bypass the camera.

"Aww, would you get off the phone," Markey tells one girl, cellphone pressed to her ear. "Take a message."

He guides another pair toward the Eiffel Tower.

"Lucky couple number ... whatever," he calls.

After shooting a wedding this May 10 morning, Markey headed to school and stayed. Now, he claims he's losing his voice -- something he says his wife will appreciate.

Meanwhile, his wife, Renee Markey, is inside the gym, running a hula hoop contest in a corner designated as England.

At 1:30 a.m., she and mom Tracy Cloud are in the midst of three tasks -- working the hula hoops, serving as bouncers for the gym's rear door and being on-call at the nearby first-aid station.

Cloud's daughter, a sophomore, is in here somewhere, "and we're both going to sleep though the whole day" tomorrow, she admits.

Or so she thinks. While Cloud nurses a Coke, her daughter and two friends appear with an announcement.

"Actually, we're going to sleep right now," daughter Katie Cloud tells mom.

She flashes Mom a "peace out" sign before she goes.

Less than an hour later, the night's master of ceremonies, teacher Matthew Neale, tells the crowd that in the auditorium, they can see The Freaks at Heart.

"The greatest rock band at Cave Spring High School," he deadpans.

On stage, the band jams. Two young men in tuxedo pants and Converse sneakers are on guitar while the drummer sports a pink tie and a long mane.

The crowd is subdued. They sit in the first few rows, waving glow sticks.

"Free-burrd," someone from the crowd calls after the band's cover of "My Generation."

"Jonas Brothers," a teen girl requests.

This is the part of the night that parents hope keeps the kids going until 3:30, when prizes are drawn and from there, it's down to the home stretch.

At this point, even the teens are ready for bed.

"Who's tired?" singer Jake Gerl, 18, asks from the stage, raising his hand. "I'm tired."

He's not the only one. A girl sitting near the front yawns.

The long home stretch

Inside the gym, Assistant Principal Paul Lineburg is crashing. He sits at a table with the school principal and athletic director. They all look like zombies.

"Nobody's playing anything," Lineburg observes.

Most of the video games are empty. Though a few students are using the inflated Twister board as a giant mattress.

"I'm hitting the wall," Lineburg admits, glancing at the wall clock. "Forty-two minutes to go."

In addition to after-prom duty, he and other administrators also chaperoned the dance. He's been fueled by a steady stream of coffee all night. Now, he needs more.

It's the time of night when students start cashing in their chips. They trade tokens they won at games for prizes -- sort of like at Chuck E. Cheese.

Senior David Kaplan, 18, approaches the trio with plastic cups full of chips.

"Could I get a date with your wife for these?" he asks Jim Markey.

Because his mom is on the after-prom committee, David knows how much effort goes into the party. In fact, when he showed up at the gym Saturday, he was put to work.

"I can't imaging doing it for hours on end," he says.

That's partly what prompted him to stay so late. As a junior, he left after-prom early and regretted it.

Parents "do a lot for this, and sometimes kids leave," he said. "I feel bad."

By now, students are almost outnumbered by parents.

Finally, there's 24 minutes until the end, and what's left of the crowd of about 400 students surrounds Jim Markey with painted faces, glow stick necklaces and caricature drawings in hand.

"We're drawing for 'Guitar Hero,' " Markey announces into the mike.

He draws a name from a basket.

"She was here and she left," Markey announces. "I hope it was worth it."

The next gift is the video game "Rock Band." He pulls four names before he finds a teen who is still there.

The night's big prize is qualifying to win a new car. Four names will be picked and pooled with students from other high schools who stayed at after-prom all night. One student will drive home a new Hyundai in June.

Sitting with the sleepy administrators, Markey pulls a long line of names before finding four students still present to qualify for the car.

He stands when the final name is revealed.

"Well, that's it" he says unceremoniously. "Go home and go to bed. That's what we're going to do."

The crowd begins to clear. A few boys still play "Guitar Hero," and the parents still work, rolling up plastic tablecloths, tossing empty water bottles and stacking chairs.

"Let's go home and go to bed," one yawning teen says on her way out the door.

The moms start scattering, too. Leaving with good-night hugs.

But they will be back early Sunday afternoon to tear down their work.

Europe must look like a gym again by Monday.