Saturday Night

  Anne, who marched to the far side of the cafeteria so she wouldn’t have to stand near Christopher and Molly.

  Anne was pregnant and thought Con would dump her.

  Molly loved it. The irony! How richly deserved it was! Perfect people deserved to get hurt. It was so annoying the way some people’s lives were always smooth and serene. A wrinkle in Anne’s life. Molly liked that. And not just a wrinkle, either. Being pregnant at seventeen and not married and being deserted—you had to call that the Grand Canyon of problems.

  Here Molly had planned the perfect evening herself. She’d dumped jerky Roddy, and found Christopher, and was expecting a perfect evening with a Harvard man and what did she get? A stupid, rude fool who made passes at other girls because he was tanked up to the top with cheap wine, or something that smelled like it. Miracle the chaperones even let them in.

  Beth Rose tiptoed away like a skittish animal. Molly timed her last remark just loud enough for Beth to hear. And did Beth ever hear. The girl was a lousy actress. Beth jumped a foot, pretended she hadn’t, practically ran into the wall instead of the door, and had to use her hands to feel her way out of the cafeteria. That was what you called a real reaction.

  Molly giggled to herself.

  Beth Rose would tell Gary, and—Well, no. Gary probably wouldn’t tell a soul. She had never known someone as detached as Gary. Either he really didn’t listen to stories, or he really didn’t care, or he instantly forgot them, because Gary never told anybody anything.

  Molly had a suspicion that he was too thick even to gossip. It never occurred to her that he loathed gossip, and walked instantly away from it. But if she had known, she would have liked that, too: hoping that Beth Rose would ruin her evening by saying the wrong things to the wrong person.

  Christopher said, “Starving.”

  You slob, she thought. You’re down to one-word sentences now. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Okay. You go get something to eat, Chrissie. I’ll catch up to you in a minute. I have to talk to somebody.”

  Christopher lurched toward the food. For a minute, Molly kept an eye on him, but he didn’t pause to talk to anybody. Good. She was a little worried about what he was going to say or do next. What if he talked to a parent chaperone the way he had to Beth Rose?

  She went up to Sue and Caitlin.

  Sue was one of those girls who had been suave, sophisticated, and casual since kindergarten. Always in the popular group, always with a great-looking boyfriend, Sue gave parties to which Molly had never been invited. Anne was always invited, of course. Anne was always invited everywhere. Anne, who couldn’t be bothered to speak to Molly.

  Sue was with Jimmy. Jimmy was not the brightest person in the world, but he was certainly one of the nicest. Everybody said so, but Molly had never had a chance to test Jimmy. She couldn’t help checking him out, even while she talked to his date.

  Caitlin was an unknown to Molly. Caitlin had moved to town a year before and was not in any of Molly’s classes, even gym or typing or study. Slightly chubby, with thick, badly cut hair, she had a great pealing laugh that shook entire rooms and made everybody jump in astonishment and then burst out laughing with her. Molly did not think Caitlin had a single thing to offer except that bizarre laugh, but evidently this was enough, because Sue adopted Caitlin almost the day she moved to Westerly.

  Molly resented that, too. She, Molly, had been in the wings her whole life. Who was Caitlin to march in and enter Sue’s circle just like that?

  Caitlin’s date was a boy Molly had never even seen before, and she gave him a quick assessment and decided he was another nothing, like Roddy.

  “Hi, there, Sue,” said Molly, ignoring Caitlin and the boys.

  Sue smiled. “Hi, Molly. I see Christopher is a little under the weather.”

  Molly would gladly have slapped Sue for that. She drew in a breath, ready to fight with words at least, but Sue’s next words were balm to Molly’s soul. “I guess these college guys really start partying and they can’t stop,” said Sue. “I always wanted to date a Harvard man. Has Christopher talked to you about it much? I would adore going to Boston. I hear it’s such a great college town. My mother thinks I should apply to school there.”

  Molly beamed at her. “I’ll probably go there for a college weekend,” she said, although Christopher had not said a single word about it. Immediately Molly could imagine the whole weekend: Harvard Yard, teams rowing on the river, the Boston Common and Paul Revere, and a football game where everybody drove Mercedes and had tailgate picnics with the wine in real crystal. I’m ready, Molly thought.

  “Ooooh,” Sue said. “A weekend? How great!”

  “Boston,” Caitlin said meditatively. “I went there for a week once. We went to about a thousand historical houses and whaling museums and stuff.”

  “How awful,” Molly said, who liked buildings only if they sold clothing inside.

  “Harvard, huh?” said Caitlin’s date. “I didn’t know anybody from this school ever got into Harvard.”

  “Oh, he’s terribly smart,” Molly said quickly, although Christopher’s actions did not really support this statement. “But I really need to talk about something else.” She looked apologetically at the boys and didn’t bother to look at Caitlin at all. “Do you have a minute, Sue?”

  Sue looked surprised, but she said sure, and detached herself.

  Anne Stephens, you stupid fool, Molly thought, you won’t snub me again in a hurry. You’re such a jerk. You go get A plus in every subject and you don’t catch on to the most important one of all. You think school really matters, Anne? You’ve got eight or nine months now to find out what really matters.

  In a very low voice, Molly said, “It’s Anne. I think she may need your help.”

  Sue looked amazed, as well she might. Anne always had Con around to help her. “What’s the matter?” Sue asked blankly.

  “Well,” said Molly, dragging it out because Caitlin was getting curious. She might as well have another mouth to spread the rumor, even if she didn’t like Caitlin. “Well, I don’t want to interfere, or anything, but. …”

  Caitlin drifted over to them. Molly smiled enough to include her, and Caitlin joined them.

  “I was in the bathroom,” Molly said confidingly, “and I heard Anne crying. Now I know Anne isn’t crazy about me, so I didn’t get involved, and besides, Kip was with her, but Anne was telling Kip that she’s pregnant and Con has left her to face it alone.”

  Sue’s entire face became slack with shock.

  Caitlin sucked in her breath.

  Ten feet away Sue’s date Jimmy said, “Hurry up, girls. I like this song. I want to dance.”

  “Not now,” Sue said vaguely.

  “You’d better go help her,” Molly said.

  Caitlin not only did not know Molly, she had never set eyes on her before. But there was something slimy about this girl. Molly’s hair was lovely, her dress was attractive, her speech was pleasant—and yet Caitlin instinctively did not trust her. “Are you exaggerating, Molly?” she asked quietly.

  “No!” Molly looked offended. “Anne’s so upset she’s practically ready to open her wrists.” Molly’s face grew sad and concerned.

  “Oh, my God,” said Sue to Caitlin. “Come on!”

  The girls took off for the bathroom without even giving reasons to their dates. Naturally the boys were confused and more than a little annoyed, and naturally they wanted to know what Molly had said to make this happen.

  “Oh, I really can’t say,” Molly said sadly. “It was very private. It was—well—well, I think I could trust the two of you.” She smiled. She told them, too. It was a thoroughly enjoyable few minutes. She left them in speechless surprise and drifted on.

  Winding around pumpkins and split rail fences and apple barrels, she thought how weird Kip was to have chosen that kind of stuff for a formal dance. She, Molly, would have gone in for glass and glitter and sleek surfaces and gaudy lights. But it was nice, because it divid
ed the people into little groups whether they wanted this or not, and each little group had at least one person Molly could say a word to. She forced herself to stop after the third time. Best if the rumor spread through other lips now. She didn’t want it all at her door.

  Not, Molly thought virtuously, that it really is a rumor. It’s the truth. Didn’t I hear Anne say so herself? If she wants it kept a deep dark secret she shouldn’t go talking about it in the girls’ room.

  So there.

  Miss Perfect.

  Hah.

  Chapter 13

  SUE’S MIND WAS A blur of panic and clarity. She must get to the bathroom, stop Anne, call for help, kill Con Winters, telephone Anne’s mother. …

  She and Caitlin ran into the bathroom.

  There stood Kip, leaning against the mirrors, her arms folded, a pensive expression on her face.

  There was Beth Rose, bending over slightly, while Anne fixed a hairpin that had come loose in Beth’s braids.

  “There,” Anne said with satisfaction. “That should hold it, Beth.” Anne looked up, saw Sue and Caitlin, and smiled at them. A real smile. A happy smile. Sue had known Anne too long to get confused on that score.

  This was simply a girls’ room, with three girls, peacefully fixing their hair. Sue didn’t know what to say. She had believed Molly; she still believed Molly; and yet—

  Caitlin had a brisk personality. She said, “Listen, I’m just going to leap in where angels fear to tread.”

  “You’re going to do what?” Kip said.

  “Fools leap in where angels fear to tread,” Caitlin quoted.

  Anne looked mildly interested in this idea; Beth Rose looked totally blank, and Kip said, “Oh, I didn’t know. Thank you, Caitlin.”

  Sue and Caitlin looked at each other.

  Sue shrugged.

  “And?” said Kip, smiling.

  Caitlin managed a laugh. “And that is the end of a long conversation Sue and I were having. About us.” Caitlin looked into the mirror, as if she had come into the bathroom for that purpose. Actually she hated mirrors and bathrooms, because she thought she was very plain, and she hated proof.

  Sue said, “I am very gullible, Kip. Some day they’re going to give a Gullible Person of the Week Award, and I’ll win fifty-two in a row.”

  “You can’t have that many,” said Beth Rose. “I feel sure I can win more than you can.”

  They all laughed. Sue thought, Beth Rose has possibilities. And then Sue thought, Anne doesn’t look pregnant.

  Caitlin thought, Anne doesn’t look suicidal.

  Anne said, “I’m so disappointed. Here I was absolutely sure I had that trophy all sewed up and now I find I have a roomful of competition.”

  They all laughed again, and all of them except Beth pretended to have makeup to fix, and then they exited in a group, with Sue and Caitlin lingering slightly, and keeping to the rear.

  Sue muttered, “Let’s go kill Molly.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Bad enough she should spread rumors that Anne is pregnant and Con is a worthless rat—but to imply Anne is killing herself? Somebody should lock Molly up. She is really filth.”

  Anne was practically running on ahead of them—definitely not the picture of a girl abandoned by her boyfriend. Beth Rose was trotting to keep up.

  “What infuriates me is,” Sue said, “I really and truly believed Molly. I was actually planning what I would say to Anne’s mother on the phone, so that she wouldn’t kill herself, too!”

  They laughed from embarrassment, terribly relieved that nothing was wrong with Anne and terribly angry that Molly had dared anything like that. And inside Sue still felt a thread of panic. Surely Molly had had something to base her remarks on! But Kip—Kip was there. You knew you could rely on Kip. If something really was wrong, Kip would fix it. Tentatively Sue said, “We could ask Kip. What do you think?”

  “I think the less said about this the better,” Caitlin said.

  They paused because Sue was having trouble with her heels. The shoes were fractionally too large; she had bought them on a hot day, she was thinking, when her feet were swollen. She slipped around inside them, and the hem of her long gown kept getting caught inside her shoe, and tripping her from behind. It was infuriating because it made Sue feel like a stumbling giraffe.

  On the other side of the rose arbor, they overheard a very quiet conversation from the chaperones.

  “Well, I suppose a certain amount of nasty behavior is understandable,” said one mother. “If I were thrown out of Harvard, I’d be in a pretty bad mood myself.”

  “If I were thrown out of Harvard,” said the father, “I’d be crawling back begging for forgiveness, not being drunk and disorderly at some high school dance.”

  “That filth Molly,” Sue said to Jimmy, as soon as he came over to her. “Did she tell you a bunch of lies about Anne?”

  Jimmy had never been so relieved in his life. Con was a good friend of his. He didn’t want to have to think about Con’s situation, or Con’s reaction to it, or what would happen to Anne no matter what. “Yes, but we didn’t believe a word of it,” Jimmy said. “Molly’s a fake. Always has been.”

  Sue beamed at him. “Come on,” she said. “We’re following Molly around the cafeteria.”

  “Last person on earth I’d follow anywhere,” Jimmy protested.

  “We have counter rumors to spread,” Sue said. She and Caitlin laughed insanely, and of course half of the dancers turned to listen to Caitlin, and to wonder what was going on now.

  “Beth Rose,” said Anne, in greeting, as she came into the ladies’ room.

  Beth smiled at her, praying that Anne would somehow escape the rumor Molly was spreading. How can I keep Anne from hearing it? she wondered. And if Con hears what Molly’s saying, he might kill her. Or Christopher. Which they both deserve, but still. …

  “Con sent me to get you,” Beth Rose said. She thought, I just know Molly went and said the same thing to Sue and Caitlin.

  All the emotion Anne had felt in the last quarter of an hour with Kip evaporated. Both panic and calm, both knowledge and fear. She was exactly what she had been a few weeks ago: in love with Con Winter. Blossoming into a wide joyous smile, like a girl on her first date, she cried, “Really? He sent you to get me?” And the next thing Beth knew, Anne was fussing happily with Beth’s hair, and talking about how they would have to double date—she with Con, Beth with Gary—when in flew Sue and Caitlin.

  Beth knew in a moment what Sue and Caitlin had heard, and she felt for them, stumbling around, trying to save them from the worst possible faux pas.

  “Let’s go back to the boys,” Anne said happily. She and Beth Rose rushed down the hall, past the rose arbor, past the pumpkin stack, past the old wooden swing and the scarecrow she had not noticed before, leaning at a crazy angle against two sheaves of corn. Why are we running? Beth Rose thought. She looked at Anne, and Anne’s face was bright and gay and almost feverish.

  The band was playing a very slow piece, and most of the room was dancing: no steps, just close swaying, eyes half closed, hands tightly clasped. Anne and Beth Rose were going at top speed, so that they seemed to be out of synchronization with the rest of the world.

  Then they were with the boys and Anne was babbling, too many words, too fast, and even Beth could see it was wrong; it didn’t fit and Anne was making Con irritable.

  She realized that while all the girls were struggling to soothe the boys, none of the boys seemed to be struggling in return.

  This falling in love stuff is a one way street, she thought. The boys are just sauntering along the pavement and they’re willing to have us walk beside them if the sun is shining, but—

  “Let’s dance, Beth Rose,” said Gary, and all her thoughts were forgotten: swept away by Gary like a wisp of cloud by a storm. He was too much for her, and her emotions toward him were too much. She dismissed every thought but the thoughts of his masculinity and his nearness. She began daydreaming of
what would happen between them.

  He’ll be crazy about me by the time the evening’s over. He’ll pull me off into that corner over there behind the scarecrow. The chaperones haven’t noticed it. You slip behind the corn sheaves and you’re private in the shadows. We’ll kiss. Then he’ll really be in love with me.

  He’ll ask me out.

  He’ll ask me for next Friday night, but he won’t be able to stand the wait. He’ll telephone me Sunday noon to ask if I liked the dance as much as he did. He’ll drive over Sunday afternoon. We’ll sit and talk and then we’ll go for a drive. And we’ll park out by the reservoir near the Nature Preserve and we’ll kiss and hug and go crazy. And I’ll invite him for supper on Monday and he’ll say, Oh, let’s have pizza out instead and. …

  Anne’s heart was beating as if she was on a blind date with a sexy stranger. But it almost is, she thought, taking the familiar hand, resting her head on the familiar shoulder. As Gary and Beth Rose moved out onto the dance floor, Anne and Con began dancing very slowly right where they stood. Anne felt so reassured! How could she have doubted Con? Kip was right; it was a disgrace that she had surrendered her belief in him after two sentences, two minutes.

  His strong heavy arms wrapped around her like protection from all storms. She smiled at him, their eyes locking the way they always did, and his were filled with the affection she had always felt from him.

  Oh, Con, how I love you, she thought. “Listen, Con,” she said. “I’m sorry I threw that at you so fast. I know it’s hard to believe. The test was six days ago and I’ve been reeling from the shock ever since. And I know the dance is fun, but Con, tonight I can’t have fun. We have to talk.”

  She had gotten some of these words out by looking down, by studying the button on his starched white shirt, but now she looked into his eyes again. He was staring at the black shadows behind the barnboard refreshment shed, and a muscle in his jaw clenched and jerked. Anne rested a loving fingertip on that taut muscle. Con pulled back from her. The embrace that had been so secure and safe turned tight and angry.

  “Con?” she whispered, frightened.