“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 fi
ngers 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.
She stopped herself.
There was always Roddy. Always. He was a sap, but an easy one. Her batting average was too good to miss with him as well. She whirled, marched over to the fountain he was tinkering with, knelt down beside him, and said without preliminaries, “I’m sorry, Roddy.”
He stared at her.
“I’ve been so bad to you. All night I’ve watched you and I’ve felt so awful. You were with Kip and I was with Christopher and oh, Roddy, how I missed being with you!” She let herself cry, opening her eyes wide so the tears would spill over. Letting herself go limp, she sagged next to him and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Molly,” he said hastily, undone by the tears.
“Roddy, forgive me?” She put her hand on his cheek and now it was Roddy’s turn to go limp. “Sure,” he said. Clumsily he tried to kiss her, but the fountain was in the way and they were crouching. Molly drew him to his feet. “Last dance, Roddy,” she murmured. “Please dance it with me.”
He looked uncertain. “I kind of came with Kip.”
“Of course you did. And I admire your loyalty. But Kip is over there straightening things. And you and I—oh, Roddy, what better way to get back together again than a long slow dance?”
She linked her fingers behind his neck, looking soulfully up at him, and then drew one thumb teasingly along his hairline. Half pouting, half kissing, she said, “Please?”
Roddy fell. As if all her meanness to him had never been, he could not ignore the delight of having Molly beg for his, Roddy’s, presence. He gave a silly little laugh, and they snuggled up against each other. Resting her head against his chest, Molly checked out the other couples in the room. Nobody was dancing any closer. He would do, poor sap Roddy, till something better came along.
Gary said, “If you can dance holding a pumpkin, may I have this dance?”
He was laughing. Beth had never heard him laugh out loud before. “It’s my coach in four,” she told him. “Any moment now my fairy godmother will wave her wand and send me home in style.”
He shook his head. “All I have to offer is a six-year-old Chrysler.”
“Magic is in the eye of the beholder,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
They danced. Gary held the hand that held the pumpkin, which was awkward, but it made them laugh, and the rest of the dancers looked over at them and laughed with them.
He said, “The photographer told me the pictures would be ready in about two weeks.”
She had forgotten the pictures.
“When they come,” Gary said, “let’s have supper at my dad’s restaurant and look at them.”
Oh, penny. You were pretty powerful, she thought. What a wish I made on you!
She waved the tiny pumpkin at him. “I’ll make pumpkin pie.”
He laughed. “Well, you might be able to make one slice.”
“We’ll share it,” she said.
He nodded and danced on.
I think, Beth Rose said to herself, I think I’m going to let myself fall in love after all. The worst thing that can happen is that nothing will happen. And the best thing that can happen is us.
Together.
The last dance.
Emily, feeling like a queen in her blue jeans, and Matt, king, as he swam in her father’s blue jeans, were ready to leave. Emily was limping. Her foot was throbbing because the pain killers had long since worn off. Totally disregarding the doctor’s orders, she danced anyhow.
Now it was hitting her.
“Matt, I can’t walk another step. I’m sorry. It hurts so bad I’m starting to cry.” She did cry, apologizing, weeping, and apologizing again. She was unable to put weight on her foot for another moment.
“The pain hit me so fast!” she said, gasping. “Oh, Matt, I’m going to whimper like a puppy hit by a car.”
Somebody brought Emily’s coat. Matt helped her into it. Perhaps because she was so tired, the pain covered everything else. She was barely aware of the dance, of Matt, the music, or anything but the cuts in her foot.
Putting one arm around her waist, Matt bent over, and tucked the other arm behind her knees. Before Emily really knew what was happening, he had picked her up in his arms.
Like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold, Matt swung Emily around, showing off his strength. Emily loved it. The rest of the kids clapped, laughing.
“How are you two getting home?” asked Kip, taking charge, as always.
“Her dad is coming,” said Matt.
“Somebody go see if Mr. Edmundson is here,” Kip called out. “I don’t know how long Matt can hold this pose!”
“Is it up to me?” said Emily, smiling into Matt’s face. “I think he should maintain it forever.”
Matt grinned. “I might,” he said. “I just might.”
Epilogue
WHAT MATTERS MOST TO every human being is to be loved, and to love in return. Five girls ended their last dance, thinking only of love.
Emily had had the courage to face her worst fear, and to conquer it, and end a winner, truly suspended in loving arms.
Beth Rose had had the courage to walk alone, and had come one step closer to her own dream of love.
Anne had had the courage to admit her private nightmare, and she was one step deeper in the worst dream of her life—but she was also one step closer to herself, and to the boy she loved.
Molly used people, and had neither love nor courage, but she did not know the difference, and Saturday night had not taught her a thing.
And Kip, who had all the love and courage in the world, but nobody yet to give them to, knew only one thing for sure: The dance was hers. Whatever memories the other dancers had, she, Kip, had given them.
Saturday night faded.
Sunday morning began.
The dance was over.
Turn the page to continue reading from the A Night to Remember series
Prologue
THE LAST DANCE.
It celebrated the final day of the school year.
The following morning, there would be no classes where the five girls would run into their friends and compare notes. No more exams—but no more lunchroom talks, either; no hellos to shout in the halls; and no more rides to share going home.
It was the end of school, and the beginning of summer.
Next year they would be seniors.
Five girls stared into their mirrors.
Would this be a dance of love? A dance to begin on?
Or would it be a dance of loneliness? A dance to end on?
Two of the girls wished upon a star. One set her hair a second time. One shrugged. And one of them picked up her telephone, called her date, and said, “Forget it. We’re not going.”
Chapter 1
JUST FRIENDS.
Kip thought it was possibly the worst phrase in the English language. Yes, Mike had said, if you want to go to the Last Dance, I’ll go with you, but we’re just friends, remember. It’s not a date.
Kip remembered. Clearly.
“Just friends,” she muttered to herself as she fixed her hair. “Yuck. Boys don’t look at you until you’re thirteen. Then for the next two years they make gagging noises and jab each other in the ribs whenever they see a female person. When they’re sixteen, they show off like insane cave men. At seventeen they take a quick plunge into dating—like swimming off the coast of Antarctica. Six months later they leap back to the shore of all boys’ company and want to be just friends.”
Kip ran to the door of her bedroom, stuck her head down the hall, and yelled to her four brothers, “I’m against it! Just you behave better when you’re
old enough to date! Do not, repeat not, be just friends.”
Only one of her brothers was home, and he was young enough to have been put to bed already, so nobody took her advice. It was Kip’s experience that nobody ever took her advice anyhow.
She had agonized over what to wear to the Last Dance. It was being held at the Rushing River Inn, at the foot of Mount Snow, a resort that featured an elegant ballroom and a vast screened verandah overlooking the ski lifts. Rushing River had a swimming pool, tennis courts, restaurant, game rooms, stables, croquet courts, and trails for cross-country skiing in winter and hiking in summer.
Supposedly the high school group was restricted to the ballroom, verandah, and terrace.
Kip was very grateful not to be in charge of this dance, as she had been of the Autumn Leaves Dance. She would stake two years allowance that the restrictions were going to be broken quickly and often.
What do you wear to a dance that will be chilly with air conditioning inside and hot with June mugginess outside? What do you wear if you might be sitting on the stone steps or leaning against a tree—but you also want to be perfect for flirting by candlelight near the grand piano?
Kip had bought a blouse of filmy white, with a lacy camisole under it, and a tealength skirt of hot pink with splashes of yellow and violet. It was one very loud pattern. Half of the time Kip stared into the full-length mirror and decided she looked absolutely smashing, and the other half of the time she decided she was an embarrassment to the fashion world. She had fixed her hair with three very thin velvet ribbons of the same gaudy colors, their long delicate ends trailing over her thick brown hair and down over her bare shoulders. The back, but not the front, of the blouse was very low cut. Kip liked herself better from behind and kept turning to stare at herself over her shoulder.
Oh, Mike, Mike.
They had had such a good time for ten weeks. Ten precious weeks that worked out just the way Kip had hoped they would: laughter and love and kisses and talk and time together.
Then it was baseball season. “See you later,” said Mike, and it turned out he didn’t mean later that afternoon, or even later that week, but later in the year, when baseball was over. Kip went to all the varsity games, huddled in a blanket when it was still cold, and perspired in the sun when it was not. Baseball was too slow for Kip; every game seemed to last a dusty lifetime. And Mike never even looked her way, whether he was on the bench or pitching. I don’t know the secret of life, Kip thought glumly, but that little round white ball with its little white stitches has sure got some answers.