Saturday Night (21 page)

“You’re fibbing,” she said. “There aren’t any.”

He wiped them away with his right hand and held her chin lightly the way he often did before a kiss. “You’re right,” he said. “There aren’t any.”

They had gotten halfway across the room and reached the edge of the dancers. Con prayed the music wouldn’t stop. He could not talk to a single person right now and that included Anne. The music was fast, which was bad, because he could hardly move, let alone dance fast.

“Wish it was a slow one,” he mumbled to Anne. He was out of breath, as if they’d climbed into the cafeteria.

“So we’ll dance slow.” She leaned on him and they danced slow, paying no attention to the drums that whipped the rest along. He was glad they were the same height because her golden hair partially shielded his face, and when he saw kids looking at him, he simply moved her fractionally to the side, and her hair gave him privacy from the stares.

“First test,” Anne said to him.

Con groaned. “Out of how many?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying not to think that far ahead.”

The music stopped.

Gary and Beth Rose walked over. Con felt panicky. Gary said, “You missed a good pumpkin fight, Con. I was the one who got to shovel it all up, ankle deep in pumpkin pulp.”

“Kip give you a medal?” Con asked.

“No, but I got a pat on the back and that’s something from Kip.” Gary talked about the power blackout Con had missed. The tv crew, and Emily and Matt’s rescue of the dying stranger. Con was able to look only at Gary, and not see the rest of the kids, and Anne was able to look only at Beth Rose.

The music began again and after that it was easier.

Beth Rose wondered if Gary knew how many gifts he had given that evening. Had he seen that he gave Emily a breather so she wouldn’t have to talk into a terrifying microphone? Had he seen that he gave Beth herself a moment to cherish all her life—a moment of being utterly irresistible and beautiful? Had he planned to rescue Con from a whole room of curiosity seekers?

She had a sense that Gary was kind unawares. That he had a knack for doing nice things without noticing himself doing them. Perhaps that was the definition of charity: to do good without ordering yourself to do it.

“You keep doing this to me,” Gary said.

“What?” Beth Rose asked.

“Just standing there in a daydream when I want to dance.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m used to it now. Doesn’t throw me.”

We’re getting used to each other, she thought. Does that mean something? Do I dare read something into that?

T
HE LAST DANCE.

The band was exhausted. The long evening was over. Happy to be playing the final number, the musicians were grinning at each other, half performing, half packed to go.

The food was long since devoured.

The junior high waiters and waitresses abandoned the tables and found their own partners for the last dance. A few of them sported telltale patches of orange pumpkin pulp.

The clean-up crew, mostly freshmen and sophomores Kip had corralled by telling them it would look good on their records (an absolute lie: Records at Westerly mentioned only grades and test scores), were waiting by the exit. They were envious of the dancers and irritated by them, because they wanted to get the cleaning done so they could go home.

Kip and Roddy danced as if they had been partners all their lives. Roddy thought it was because Kip liked him now. Kip thought it was because Roddy mattered so little to her that it had become easy to be with him. But she smiled at him.

And there was her flashlight friend. Dancing by in the company of so many people that she could not tell which girl—if any—was with him. “Hi, there,” he said to Kip.

“Flashlight,” she said. “I never thanked you properly.”

“I know. And I got Gary to shovel up the pumpkin for you and you never thanked me for that, either.”

“If you’d introduce yourself properly, I could thank you properly,” said Kip. She was shaking all over. Is this what falling in love is? The shakes? Then I’ve never fallen in love before because I’ve never trembled all over before.

“Mike Robinson,” he said.

She stopped dancing with Roddy and shook Mike’s hand. She liked his handshake. Firm without crunching. What would his kiss be like? What would it be like to have the name Kip Elliott Robinson? Would he have heart failure right now, this Mike Robinson, if he could read her thoughts? “Mike,” she said, “welcome to Westerly High.”

Roddy coughed slightly.

“And this is Roddy McDonald,” Kip added. The boys nodded at each other. Kip fancied that Mike was sizing Roddy up to see what the competition was. Believe me, said Kip silently, you have no competition in this school, Mike Robinson.

“Who are you with, Mike?” she said, unable to stand the suspense.

“Nobody. I didn’t know anybody to ask.”

Perfect answer. Kip smiled at him, sending messages through her eyes, but whether or not he could interpret them she didn’t know.

A pair on the clean-up crew approached her. “Can we start taking down the shed?” they asked.

“Sure, go ahead. It’s a prefab workshop that the principal loaned me out of his backyard. It’s in six parts. Stack them in his pickup truck, which is parked outside right next to the kitchen door.”

“Gotcha.”

Roddy said admiringly, “You always have everything lined up, don’t you, Kip?”

“Yes,” she said, and prayed that he would forgive her for lining something else up, too. “Roddy, do you feel like working with me? I have to stay until clean-up is finished.”

Pure fib. She had arranged everything under another kid’s supervision because she had not expected to be at the dance. Roddy, of all people, should see through this fib. But he nodded eagerly, ready to help. She winced. “You could start with the fountain,” she said. “It’s hollow underneath and you wind up the hose and—”

“I know how it works. No problem.” Roddy trotted off.

Mike was grinning widely. She didn’t know if he understood exactly what was going on or if he just liked to grin. But years of being in charge of things had taught her that as a rule nobody ever knows what is going on and you have to guide them every little step of the way. So she guided Mike the first step of the way. “I’m giving a party myself next week, Mike,” she said, which was another fib. They were coming to her as easily as rain tonight. “I’d love to have you come. You can meet some of my friends.”

I can ask Con and Anne, she thought. Let them know we’re all friends no matter what. And Beth Rose and Gary. Might as well shore up that relationship while I’m at it. Never let it be said that Kip lets a person down. And why not toss in Emily and that cute boy she brought. She has possibilities and I never even noticed.

Mike said, “Great. I’d love to.”

She left it at that. No point in overdoing it.

They looked at each other before Kip went to work with the crew. It was a long thoughtful look, but Kip found you can’t really figure out anything from a glance. You have to have words to go with it. But one thing for sure. He was interested. He was thinking about her.

“I’ll help dismantle the shed,” he offered.

“Thank you.”

He walked away while she planned the party menu. If her parents were doing something next weekend, they would have to do it somewhere else. And preferably take her four brothers with them.

But they would. Her parents were terrific. Her mother would love the whole idea of the party and hurl herself into the planning of it. She would make only one request. Let me get a good peek at this Mike first, she’d say, and then we’ll leave you to your own devices.

My own devices are pretty sneaky, Kip thought, grinning as widely as Mike had. Definitely a hunter with a bright flash. And look what showed up in the light!

At the moment she had the least control, Anne felt the most controlled. Do you suppose someday I will be grateful to Con for walking out the door, she thought, for leaving me all alone for an hour to think?

What pleasure lay in the warm clasp of Con’s hand, in the tapping of the snare drums, in the rustling of the dresses of a hundred dancers pressed together.

There were terrible, inevitable scenes ahead, and she felt ready for them. There is nothing on earth I want more, thought Anne, than my mother’s good opinion and my mother’s good advice. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, if it’s the result of being smothered or the result of being loved. But it’s true.

She knew that the scenes would pass. Her mother would be deeply shocked because Anne had betrayed her. But her mother loved her. And in the morning, her mother would be there.

And Con?

She did not have answers about Con because they hadn’t asked the questions yet. She did not know if he was strong enough to stay. She did not know if
she
was strong enough, when each and every solution ahead was frightening. Anne cherished every step, every breath, because for her it might really be the last dance: the end of carefree student years, the end of herself and Con.

She looked into Con’s eyes, but they were closed. What thoughts Con was lost in she would never know, and maybe never understand.

But tonight he was here, and tonight he would stand with her, and she would cling to that.

The last dance.

Beth Rose stood alone.

Gary had joined the cleanup crew and was working with a vengeance. Did he work so hard because he liked work? Or because it spared him another dance with her?

She twined the lace in her long fingers.

Thank you, Aunt Madge. Your dress got me in the door. It gave me the first night I’ve ever had of the kind girls dream about. Maybe Gary is just like Virgil Hopkinson. Handsome, but boring. I’d still like a chance to find out. I threw his penny in the fountain. Perhaps wishes really do come true.

But now the fountain was gone.

Roddy was fishing around getting up all the change, putting it in a thick, gold-yellow envelope, marking it with a Magic Marker. How like Kip to have remembered everything, including the charity to which the coins went, the envelope in which it would be delivered, the marker with which it would be addressed. Beth Rose was filled with admiration for Kip.

Gary lifted one section of the shed and set it on top of a big dolly that would wheel it all out.

My first true love, thought Beth, but she was able to laugh at herself. All sixty minutes of it. Or was it a hundred and twenty minutes? Or do I get to count the entire Saturday night?

He was my knight in shining armor. My coach in four. My magic Cinderella pumpkin.

They were taking away the unsmashed pumpkins now. Most of them were enormous, a foot across, with big curved stem handles. But one was very small. She picked it up. Not a long-lasting souvenir, she thought. But oh so Cinderella!

Christopher slept.

Molly waited at intersections for utility trucks, fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, all of whom must be out there rescuing somebody from something. Don’t stop for me, no, of course not, she thought savagely. When has anybody ever stopped for me?

She parked closer to the high school front door than before. An awful lot of people had already left. Good. Kip’s dance had failed. Leaving Christopher snoring in the car, Molly entered the building again. Stopping to check her hair and makeup in the girls’ room, she went on into the cafeteria with her chin high and her eyes bright.

Instantly she knew it was the last dance.

The cafeteria no longer even looked like the scene of a dance, but more like some impromptu thing among a lot of meaningless props. The lights were too strong, the decorations looked feeble, the food was gone. But her jealousy remained high, because the couples who were there were dancing slow and intensely, locked in each other’s arms and hearts. Coldly, Molly checked the room for the only two boys she knew of who were possibilities.

And there he was. Handsome as ever, working with the clean-up crew. Perfect, she thought. He’s already abandoned Beth Rose. Easy target.

She threaded her way through the dancers to Gary, calling out his name, putting on her best smile and her flirtiest manner. It never failed her, and it didn’t this time, either: Gary looked up instantly, and smiled into her eyes. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, Molly moved toward him, tossing her head, flouncing her skirt—the little things that attracted attention. It worked. His smile stayed on her, and warmed her heart.

Her foot was enveloped by slimy disgusting wetness that seemed to crawl right up her ankle. Molly screamed, jerked back, and stared in horror at the orange stuff all around her.

Gary’s sweet smile turned into a wide grin. “Pumpkin,” he said. “Here. Have a paper towel. Mop up.”

Molly gritted her teeth. Make the best of it, she ordered herself. Pretending to be unsteady as she cleaned her shoe off, she clung to his arm. Gary even put his other hand out to steady her when she began hopping a little.

“Why didn’t you warn me, you terrible boy, you?” she said teasingly.

“Terrible boys are like that,” he said. “Locked into lousy manners.”

She laughed. “You have lovely manners, Gary. Always did.”

“Thank you.”

“Gary?”

“Mmmm?”

He was using a snow shovel to clean up the pumpkin. Molly felt confused, but didn’t dwell on it. So he was the nonverbal type. Who cared? Whatever Gary lacked in speech he made up for in body. “It’s the last dance, Gary.” Her hand lay gently on his sleeve. Somehow, in spite of the task he had undertaken, he was completely clean, looked as if his tuxedo and pants had just been pressed, and his hair just brushed. She liked that in a boy.

“Really?” he said.

“Really.”

He gave her that wonderful smile. The one every girl at Westerly flipped over. The one even their
mothers
flipped over. He took her hand in his, smiled right into her eyes, wrapped her fingers around the snow shovel, and said, “Thanks for telling me. I’d better find Beth.”

The temptation to kick him harder than she had ever kicked anything in her life was so great that Molly’s knuckles turned white holding the shovel. She came very very close to lifting a shovelful of pumpkin and hurling it all over his perfect suit, so she could ruin his perfect night.