Of course it wouldn’t take the police long back at the station to find it was only talc But Molly had had a lot of experience with rumors: you could never get rid of them. Never. Once the mud was thrown at Kip, it would stick. And no matter what Christopher said to anybody now, there was no way he could get Molly mixed into it: nobody would believe Christopher on anything. Of all her plans for revenge, this was the most perfect: it could not harm her and it had to harm her victims.
But the police, far from nailing Kip to the wall, obeyed Kip’s instructions to go after Christopher. Molly was incensed. Where did Kip get off, pushing policemen around? Wasn’t there anybody in this whole state who could look Kip in the eye and tell her to get lost?
Mike, of course.
Mike had abandoned her.
But that had not hurt Kip. Kip just moved over two paces and had Lee. Molly resented terribly that the loss of the boyfriend she’d dated off and on for a year didn’t hurt Kip.
I’m the only one who ever gets hurt! she thought, raging.
She raced through the screaming crowd.
She had to see that Christopher didn’t rescue Beth or Kip.
Especially Beth. Such a sap. And such a wimp. And such a sugary nothing.
And having fun.
And people calling out her name.
And laughing with Beth.
And dancing with Beth.
While she, Molly, who was astonishing, stood alone.
Chapter 17
IN THE SWAYING SHOUTING crowd, Beth Rose stumbled, knocked into another couple, and like a lot of people that night, got punch spilled on her gown. “Oh no!” she cried, but they had to read her lips—the shouts of Happy New Year drowned her out. She pantomimed to George that she was going to the girls’ room to wash it off. My loveliest dress! she thought. The loveliest dress I’ve ever owned! It’s going to stain, I know it.
“Where are you going?” George shouted. “Midnight just started.”
She leaned right into his ear. “Wash it out,” she yelled, and forced her way through the crowd.
Once through the large doors, and out of the revolving room, the noise level dropped and the halls were dizzily quiet. Beth Rose ran her fingers through her short hair, and thought what a sight she must be. She started fishing in her purse to find her brush.
Christopher Vann accosted her. His big football player body spread across the entire hall and he was panting, as if he’d come from a game instead of a dance. “Hi, Beth!” he said, grabbing her tiny purse. “Have a match? Can I borrow your matches?”
She tried to yank her purse back. “I don’t smoke, Christopher.”
He took her purse anyway.
“Christopher!” She looked around for help. But she could have yelled all night and nobody would have heard her. They were all yelling louder.
“Whatssa matter with you, you don’t smoke?” he demanded. “I need matches.” He handed her purse back. “Who’s got matches?” He said to nobody, and stumbled away, drunk. Beth Rose immediately looked down into her tiny purse, frowning and upset. There was certainly nothing missing. For a moment, feeling pity, she stared after him. Then she remembered her dress and rushed on into the bathroom. The stain was larger than she had thought. Making a face, Beth slithered right out of her gown and held the whole front under the tap, rubbing frantically.
Kip was so filled with rage she thought her skull would burst. Shoving her little brother around? And he was not drunk either. Kip knew that for sure. This was the most booze-free party she had been to—except for the ones she had organized—and Christopher had had nothing but soda or punch.
He’s just mean, she thought. Violent and mean and crazy. I hate him.
Kip saw Molly in the corner of her eye. Dreadful girl. Wearing that hideous dress with its sick caricature of love. Matched Molly’s personality, actually.
Aha! she thought, closing in on Christopher, who stood alone and cornered away from the elevators. She looked around for the police, but they were still in the ballroom, slowly making their way, less willing than Kip or Christopher just to get in there and shove.
But it was Christopher who spoke first. In a low tight voice, he said to her, “Kip, Molly was out to get revenge on the girls she hates. You’re one. She put drugs in your purse and told the police to search you.”
Kip’s jaw fell.
“I’m not drunk. It’s true. Quick before they get here let me take it off you.” He was ripping her purse open even as he said it. A tortoise shell comb fell out, a Kleenex pack hit the floor, coins spattered, lipstick and lipstick case parted company, a miniature perfume bottle shattered—and an envelope Kip did not recognize fell lightly by her foot.
Kip Elliot had not taken care of four little brothers all these years without learning to react fast. She put a slender slippered foot over the envelope.
The police emerged from the ballroom just as she bent over to retrieve the rest of her belongings.
“Christopher Vann,” Kip said in a fury, “you broke my perfume bottle. I will never forgive you. I don’t care if you won the bet, it’s not funny, I am not amused. And whoever called the police is not amusing either. Nobody is amused.” She stood up, lipstick halves in each hand. “I apologize for him,” she said to the police. “He never knows when to stop. He’s racing around here like a madman because I bet him he wouldn’t have the nerve to wear lipstick.”
Kip dumped the lipstick in his hand. “You had enough nerve to go into my purse and get it,” she said. “Now let’s see if you’ll actually wear it. Place your bets,” she added to the cops.
Christopher said, “Do I have to? It was more fun purse snatching lipstick than wearing it.”
“Well …” said Kip, putting just the right combination of embarrassment and ruefulness on her face. The police, not entirely convinced, moved slowly to either side of Christopher.
“Hi, guys,” Christopher said brightly.
“Christopher, you can at least say you’re sorry.” Kip stamped her safe foot. “He’s sorry,” she told the police. “And furthermore it stinks in here,” she went on. “My perfume is smelling up the whole hallway.”
“You should have picked out a nicer smelling perfume then,” Christopher said.
Beth Rose, her entire dress front soaked but clean, came out of the bathroom. “Look at me,” she said. “Oh, well, I guess I’m lucky I got off this easy.”
She did not see Christopher suck in his breath, and she did not see Kip frown. “I’m wet to the skin,” she said. “Somebody dumped punch on me, and I didn’t know how else to clean it up.”
Kip could pick up any conversation any time, any place. She launched into lengthy descriptions of stains she had known and stain removal techniques that she, her mother, her aunts, and her grandmothers had used over the generations.
The police listened for a while, and then they moved off, not entirely convinced. They did not leave the dance. They positioned themselves at the door where they could frown effectively.
“Well, I’d better go find George,” said Beth Rose, overwhelmed by the various possibilities for removing food stains from fabric
“Happy New Year,” Christopher told her.
She beamed, and left them.
“Her purse, too?” Kip said.
He nodded.
“Who else?”
“Anne.”
Kip had never been hated. It was terrifying. She was almost afraid to look over where she knew Molly stood and see the hatred pouring out of Molly’s eyes. But Kip rarely gave in to her fears. She raised her eyes to drill a look of anger back at Molly—and Molly had vanished back into the ballroom.
“Why did she hate us enough to do that?” said Kip. She didn’t lean down to get the envelope. The police were still within sight.
“You have everything, I guess,” Christopher said. “She’s very bitter about girls who seem to have it all. She wanted to see you come crashing down.” He took a Kleenex out of her little pack, although he hated ti
ssues, and wiped his brow. He was exhausted, as if he really had played a big game.
In the ballroom, five hundred throats sang “Auld Lang Syne.”
Five hundred teenagers broke open the confetti bags, scooping it up by the armloads. The girls used their skirts as sacks to collect more and the boys stuffed it in their hair, and down their dresses, and threw it at each other and screamed energetically.
“Oh, Christopher,” she said, suddenly getting the full import of what Molly had tried to do. “We would have been—the police—the drugs—records—jail—our parents—and my little brothers—and—”
“You got it,” he said, nodding.
She took his hand and held it. “Thank you,” she said intensely. “For all of us.”
“Don’t tell the others. Just drop it.”
“But how will Molly pay if—”
“She’ll see to it that I pay instead.”
Kip nodded. Yes, Molly would do that. Look how easily she had extricated herself from any blame where that fire was concerned; she would do it even more easily now. Proof was gone, if proof there had ever been.
“You saved me,” she said. The shock of being hated enough to be the subject of a plot like that made her ill. “Thanks,” she whispered again.
A crowd of kids surged past. They were the first battleground of a beginning confetti war. Kip kicked backward and felt the little paper fly away. Lee and her brothers were at the rear of the pack. “Are you all right?” Lee said. “What was that all about?”
“An old bet,” Kip said. “Tell you later. It was his thing, Jamie, don’t worry about it, okay. And you guys know what? I haven’t had a chance to toast the New Year! I missed the most important moment of the dance. Come on, let’s all get something to eat. Lee, there’s Gary and Gwynnie, let’s see what they’re up to.”
Get the attention off Christopher, Kip thought. Sure enough, there was a more interesting event there: Gwynnie was riding piggyback on Gary. Kip made a big deal out of it, teasing Gary about being Superman. “The wig alone weighs enough to tire a man out,” Kip teased.
“I’m hungry,” Gwynnie said imperiously. “Somebody hand me some food.”
Lee handed her a glass of soda and cake on a paper plate. Gwynnie waved them in the air.
“You look like you’re setting up housekeeping on Gary’s back,” Kip said. At great risk, Christopher had stopped Molly’s plan from working. But what if there was another plan? Another Saturday night?
“Well, it could be worse,” Gwynnie said. Kip jumped a foot, knowing exactly how much worse it could have been. “I could have brought along my three little brothers for him to take care of,” Gwynnie pointed out.
Kip managed to laugh. “Speaking of my three little brothers, Gwynnie, we’ve got to get them home.” She could not get out of here fast enough. Molly had reappeared. She was hovering just behind Lee, trying to figure out what had happened. And still trying, incredibly, to be part of the gang! “And by the time Lee and I have tucked them into bed,” Kip went on, “your party will be over.”
“My party will last past dawn,” Gwynnie said firmly. “You accepted my invitation and you are honor bound to materialize. No excuses are accepted.”
Jamie waved good-bye to Gwynnie. “You’re my favorite person here,” Jamie said solemnly. He climbed up on Lee’s back so he was eye to eye with Gwynnie.
“Even more favorite than Lee?” Gwynnie said.
Jamie nodded. “You have a tower head.”
Gwynnie, tower head and all, leaned toward Jamie to give him a kiss. Gary gasped for breath, struggling to keep his balance. They all laughed but Jamie said seriously,
“Happy New Year. Are you my sister’s friend? Are you coming to our house sometimes now? Will you always look this weird ?”
Gwynnie just sat on Gary’s back, her towering wig at a slant, and her eyes invisible behind her sunglasses.
Kip thought, Why, Gwynnie can’t answer those questions. Because she doesn’t know. Gwynnie wants friends and admiration as much as the rest of us: more dramatic about it, but all she wants is to have a boyfriend, and a horde of girlfriends, and people who say “Hi” in the halls. That’s what all resolutions are. To have enough friends. “Yes, Jamie. She’s my friend. She’ll be coming to our house.”
Gwynnie beamed and slid off Gary’s back. For a moment they thought Gary’s back was permanently misshapen, but with Gwynnie pushing and pulling, Gary straightened.
“We’ll be at the party,” Kip promised Gwynnie. “Wait up for us.”
The party will be such fun, she thought. Only the people I really care about will be there, not this crowd of millions. We get to meet Gwynnie’s parents, and go inside Gwynnie’s house, and stay up till dawn….
And I get to go with Lee.
Oh, Happy New Year! Happy, Happy New Year!
Gwynnie caught sight of the horrendous green and black dress with the ever-kissing silhouettes. She had scarcely spoken to Molly all night, what with all the other action that had swirled around her. Poor Molly, wearing a dress that awful in order to get attention. Gwynnie had never felt sorrier for a girl than she did for Molly. Pitiful thing. Gwynnie knew how it felt to be friendless. She was hoping at her party to help Molly blend in a little better. Although the dress wasn’t exactly the blending kind. Gwynnie called, “You’re coming, right, Molly?”
Kip gasped. Oh no! Would she have to spend the party face to face with a girl who had tried to put her in jail, to ruin her life in front of her little brothers and Lee?
A boy standing invisibly behind Lee muttered, “I wouldn’t want an arsonist and a drunk in my house, but then who would expect Gwynnie to have standards?”
Nobody knew what to say. Most of them agreed.
Kip wanted to speak up to defend Christopher, but how could she do that unless she also defended Molly? And that was beyond her.
Beth Rose, wet from the waist up, dry from the waist down, still holding the last of her dinosaur balloons, said, “Now you hush. That’s ancient history and there was no proof. Don’t you listen to a thing, Molly. It’s New Year’s Eve, and we’re going to start it off right.”
Kip closed her eyes. Yet it was sweet. Kip would never tell Beth Rose what had really happened that night.
Christopher thought, That’s dumb. I ought to tell her. Because who knows what Molly might try another time?
George thought, I like Beth Rose. I really like her.
Gary thought, Still naive. And I still like her. A lot.
Molly was deeply amused. She had not gotten her revenge, and yet this was a very pleasant ending to the night. Molly linked her arm through Beth Rose’s. No two dresses ever clashed as much as Beth’s violet brocade and Molly’s vicious green. “Happy New Year, Bethie,” she crooned.
Beth squirmed a little, but Molly held on tight.
I wonder if I will tell Christopher it was only talc, she thought. Or will I let him go on thinking he was a hero? Some hero. Saving the innocent girls from the vile threat of Talcum Powder!
Molly laughed out loud.
She could see that Christopher was suspicious of that laugh. He would cling to her like bark to a tree all night, being sure she didn’t try anything else.
Look at Beth, Molly Nelmes thought. The simpleton. She loses Gary, who is perfect. She gains George, who is nothing but tall. She cozies up to me, who would love to see her in trouble. Almost got her there, too.
Next time I will.
Nice guys, Molly Nelmes thought, finish last.
Nice girls, Beth Rose thought, finish first.
I’m nice. George knows it. I know it. My friends know it.
The New Year is going to be happy because I’m happy.
She gave George a kiss. Startled, he kissed her back.
“You’re getting good at that,” Jamie informed his big brother.
Molly snorted.
Beth Rose said, “Practice makes perfect.”
She and George practiced.
Anne a
nd Con had never stopped practicing.
Kip and Lee kissed again; Jamie hugged Lee’s legs; Kevin and Pete wanted to know when they were going to stop all this slushy stuff and get going.
Nobody loved Christopher. But for the first time in a long time, Christopher could love himself.
Emily, Matt, and Mr. Edmundson drank a toast to happy homes.
Gwynnie put her arms around Gary and thought of her lovely party coming up, with her parents who adored her—difficult though the task might be—and a roomful of friends and laughter.
To love and be loved.
Nothing counts more.
Especially on the very last Saturday night of the year.
Turn the page to continue reading from the A Night to Remember series
Prologue
THE GIRLS WERE SLICK with sun-block lotion and the air smelled of coconut oil. The radio played softly, the wind blew gently, and the heat of August soaked into their hearts and minds. There was a party to get ready for, but since the guest of honor didn’t know about it, conversation was difficult.
For high school was over, graduation a memory, and Anne would be the first to leave Westerly the following morning. How unlike Anne to be first! It gave the girls a shiver, because already they could see that the neat little predictions written under their yearbook photographs might not turn out as planned.
They lay in the sun thinking of the surprise party on the boat: the shining river and the fireworks after dark. They thought of the dresses they would wear and the boys who would be there.
Boys.
Always—whether you thought of today or tomorrow, college or commuting, you thought also of boys.
They did not know that before midnight, the plans of at least one boy would change their lives forever.
Chapter 1
THE TIMER WENT OFF with a gentle ding. The girls rolled over so they would tan evenly. The sun’s strength was fading now, though, and the shadows from the trees by the back steps had reached Beth’s feet. The banana and yogurt Beth Rose had had for lunch felt very long ago. She wondered what they would have to eat at the party. Steak, broiled on charcoal at the beach? Or hot dogs and hamburgers? Or was it being catered, so they risked eggplant parmesan? She was in an eating mood. There was nothing like a yogurt and banana to put a girl in an eating mood.