Gary took Beth Rose’s hands in his and turned them over. One palm was scraped raw where she had fallen onto rocks. “Oh, no! You did that on Two Cliffs trail, didn’t you?” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, Bethie, I—”
“It’s just a matter of being grown-up,” Beth Rose said. “I never have been. I let you be the grown-up while I stayed the little girl. You want to hike up a mountain while I’m wearing an evening gown? Yes, Gary, yes, if that’s what you want, I’d love to, too,” she imitated herself. She smiled at him ruefully. “So it’s really my own fault, Gary.”
Even as she said it, she knew she had let Gary have his way yet again. She had let it be her fault instead of his. But if for once I admit it’s my fault for being weak, she thought, maybe I can be stronger next time around. Because one thing I do know: I want to be with Gary. So I’d better figure out how to pull it off.
Gary looked at the raw flesh of her hand and said nothing. Eventually he heaved a huge sigh. Whether it was a sigh of relief that Beth Rose was all right, or exhaustion from the evening’s panic, they could not tell.
Molly, whom they had all forgotten, said sarcastically, “So this is what the best couples talk about. I’m so impressed. It’s so fascinating.” She blew cigarette smoke in front of her and pretended to be massively bored.
Beth Rose said, “Molly, could you just flush yourself down the toilet or something?”
Gary began to laugh. He pulled Beth to her feet and kissed her and hugged her and said, “That was good, Beth. You should speak your mind more often. I’m in favor of it. Come on. Let’s dance.”
He opened the women’s room door to escort Beth Rose out, only to find on the other side Matt’s fist raised to knock. His face an inch from Matt’s knuckles, Gary said, “Oh, hi, Matt, how’s the fire?”
“Out,” said Matt. “Uh. Gary? Uh. What are you doing in the women’s bathroom?”
“He has serious problems,” Molly said.
“Nah,” Gary said. “All my serious problems are solved now, huh, Beth?” Gary grinned at Beth, grinned at Matt, and even grinned at Molly. Then he said, “Kip get the fire out?”
“Nope. Just held it. Fire trucks got here, though, and they’ve got a couple of pumpers so they had the water to put the fire out pretty fast. They’ll be here for a while, I guess, making sure they got it all. Then they’re going to start asking questions. See who started the fire.”
“Who started the fire?” repeated Gary, absolutely shocked. “You mean it was arson?” He had been so frightened by the idea of Beth dying that the fire had stunned him, and he had not really thought about the fire as a living creature that somebody had started. Now that Beth was okay, and he was okay, Gary could think. But this thought had never crossed his mind.
Anne, Emily, and Beth Rose knew nothing of the fire at all. They had spent the whole time in the women’s room talking. So Matt had to bring them up to date, with all the details of the bucket brigade, and Kip’s leadership, and the height of the flames, and so forth.
“I can’t stand it,” Beth Rose moaned. “All our lives people will talk about the great fire we put out at the Last Dance. Everybody will share memories of what they did to help, and everybody will have souvenirs or scars or something, and I’ll have to admit I was sitting in the bathroom the whole time.”
They all laughed. It did sound ridiculous.
Matt sat down on the daybed where Beth Rose and Gary had been a moment ago and leaned on Emily. “You smell great,” he told her. He had found fighting the fire incredibly exciting and had loved the smell, and the sound, and the sight of that fire: loved the war of it, the battling between man and nature. But he loved equally the peace of this strange little room, with its old-fashioned colors and designs and this peculiar little bed, the likes of which they certainly did not have in the men’s room. And he definitely loved being next to Emily again.
“What perfume is that?” Anne asked, trying to identify it.
“Obsession,” Emily said.
They all laughed. “The perfect name,” Matt said kissing her. “Because I am definitely obsessed.”
“Not to mention filthy,” Emily said. “This fire was definitely not the cleansing sort.”
“Wait’ll you see Kip,” Matt said. “She doesn’t even have a dress left!”
They stayed in the lounge: Gary and Beth Rose leaning on each other, Matt and Emily hugging, and Anne alone.
Caught in their own thoughts, they forgot there was another person in the women’s room: a girl who quietly backed out of sight, putting out her cigarette in a toilet before sliding into the baby-changing room where nobody would notice her.
Arson?
The fire department was going to question people?
For arson?
Molly was furious. Arson was where you meant to destroy something. Molly had simply had a cigarette, and it wasn’t her fault the leaves were dry. They weren’t going to find out who had had that cigarette, that was for sure, and if they managed to question her, well she would just manage to be casual, because she certainly had not committed any crimes; it was not a crime to slip out doors and have a cigarette while you waited.
Con Winters was one of the few kids who did not leave the scene of the fire when they were told to. He retreated back against the wall of the Inn, where he stood with a couple of assistant cooks and watched the firemen at work.
In its raging splendor, the fire had a certain beauty, but now as the firemen doused it, it became merely a nuisance that crackled and spat. And then it was gone. It left behind a terrible acrid smell, and when the wind blew back toward the Inn, Con choked.
You are a jerk, Con. It won’t hurt you to feel like one.
Kip’s words rang in Con’s head over and over again.
Is that what the school thought? That he was a jerk?
Did they all think that Anne was a fool to bother with him? Did they all really know about Molly, and was he kidding himself that he’d kept it a secret?
Like everybody else, Con now had wet shoes, and inside the shoes his socks were wet, too, and he scrunched his toes miserably, wanting to take the socks off and get dry and comfortable again.
I am a jerk, he thought.
That’s what every guy wants to know, isn’t it? Handsome, athletic, smart, charming, articulate, the whole nine yards.
But basically just another jerk.
The firemen knelt by the bushes, looking for evidence of how the fire started. Con wished he had a chore like that to keep his mind occupied. Like everybody else in the high school, Con felt that Kip had a handle on life. So if Kip said he was a jerk, that wrapped it up. He was, indeed, a jerk.
He thought he might lean against the wall of the Inn forever, with that smell in his nostrils and that wind in his hair.
But he saw Molly leaving. Walking toward the parking lot and the car in which she had come alone.
Molly…who had said in the ballroom that she would join him on Two Cliffs trail. That suggestion had made Con really race up the trail, which had made it that much harder for Beth Rose to keep up, and impossible for Molly to follow. Molly never did anything that would cost her. But the fire had started right at the base of the trail. Where Molly would have stood making the decision whether or not to come up after Con. And Molly smoked. Incessantly. It had always annoyed Con because he found it a repulsive habit, and besides when he kissed her he was kissing cigarette taste. Molly never used ashtrays. She flicked the cigarette out the car window or onto the sidewalk. It was Con’s shoe that ground it out if they were walking together.
No, Con thought. She wouldn’t—
But of course, she would.
Molly didn’t care.
Right now, was she leaving early because nobody had danced with her? Because she had not succeeded in getting Con away from Anne? Or was Molly leaving early because it would be dangerous to stay late?
Con tried to remember what cigarette brand she smoked but couldn’t. Molly kept to the bushes as she moved toward
her car and nobody but Con saw her. She took a shortcut downhill which led her by the pool. In the moonlight trees reflected blackly in the water.
I didn’t push Anne in the water! Con thought suddenly. I was nowhere near Anne. But I was so furious when she accused me of shoving her in, I forgot that maybe somebody else shoved her in! And who would do that? Molly. Only Molly.
You are a jerk, Con. It won’t hurt you to feel like one.
Oh, Kip, he thought. I feel like one. I promise you. I really feel like one. But what do I do about it? Tell me that, Kip. Give me a few lessons in that, Kip.
Pammy was delighted to have everybody back in the ballroom again and readily available for questioning. “Oh, I just can’t stand it!” she cried. “I know who was born in Beverly Hills. I know who has a peacock for a pet. I know who here does not like chocolate. But who was born on an ocean liner and who has been skiing in six countries? Somebody admit it! Somebody here is fascinating and won’t tell! That’s not fair! If you were going to keep it a secret, you shouldn’t have come to the dance.”
She got no answers.
“Pammy, get lost,” everybody else said.
They wanted to compare notes on what they had done to save the forest. The girls with damaged dresses wanted to see what could be fixed, and the boys with ruined shoes wanted to go barefoot. But most of all, everybody was absolutely starved. Totally, completely starved. They descended on the remaining food like animals and consumed everything in sight and demanded more. Of course, there was nobody available to supply anything more. The kids debated the wisdom of simply going into the kitchens—which several of the girls knew intimately now, having filled an awful lot of pots of water from those sinks—and taking food.
Pammy wailed, “But I want to win that VCR!”
“You will, you will,” one of the girls said. “You’ll win by default, Pammy, because nobody else has bothered. You’ll have the most answers even if you don’t have all the answers. Now pay attention to the important things, Pammy, like the fact that there is no more soda. None! And we are all dying of thirst and smoke damage!”
Mike pushed through looking for blankets.
Lee followed with Kip.
Two things immediately happened: half the kids wanted to hug Kip and tell her how wonderful she was, and the other half recognized Lee as a Rushing River Inn waiter, and wanted him to get to work and supply them with soda. It was a situation where everybody but Lee got what they wanted.
Mike returned with the blanket, the kids separated Lee from Kip, Mike wrapped Kip in the blanket, and Mr. Martin appeared, ordering Lee to get refreshments not only for the dancers but also for the firemen.
Lee seriously considered quitting on the spot.
Mike was going to get Kip unless he, Lee, stuck around.
But if Lee quit on the spot, Kip would have no use for him. He knew her well enough already to know that Kip did not approve of quitters.
So Lee, furious but helpless, went back to serving.
And Mike, having won that round, stayed with Kip.
Chapter 13
“I DON’T BELIEVE WE’VE ever had a party in a women’s bathroom before,” Matt said, grinning.
“I suggest we adjourn to the ballroom,” Beth Rose said. “There’s so much to do. Ruined dresses to inspect, fire damage to repair, stories to hear.”
“Food to eat,” Gary said, “soda to drink, potato chips to crunch.”
Gary took Beth’s arm and together they walked out of the women’s room.
How romantic they looked! Beth’s heavy red hair pressed against Gary’s thick dark hair, and the skirt tangling between them, and then puffing out behind. The room was much emptier without them: as though love had walked out and just left the other three there, killing time.
Anne’s throat hurt. Con, she thought. Oh, Con.
Emily touched the little silver knots that dotted the pale green dress, and caressed the silver rope that hung at her waist. She stared at her pink-polished toes and the thin silver strap of her dancing shoes. I just want to be a girl at a dance, Emily thought, not a girl without a family. I don’t want my heart to be heavy. I just want my feet to be light.
Apparently Matt felt lighthearted, because he put one arm around Anne’s waist, and the other around her own, and tried to get the girls to stand with him. He said, “I can beat old Gary. I can have one beautiful girl per side.”
Emily could not even stand, let alone dance.
She literally felt heavy. It was as though all her problems really did weigh something, and they really were on her shoulders. Unless somebody had a winch to haul her up, Emily could not possibly get to her feet. Gary and Beth Rose might just as well have carried the laughter away when they left. Sure enough, Beth’s musical giggle wafted down the hall toward their ears. A sound Emily might never make again.
“Matt, I just don’t—I just can’t—I still—”
She put her head on his shoulder. She could smell the smoke on him.
Once more she felt as if she were doing something wrong. I have troubles, Emily thought, real troubles, and yet I feel pushy for wanting to talk about them. I ought to deal with my own dumb problems in my head, and let everybody else have the stage. Never complain. Always be the one to laugh, always be good company, never be rude.
How did I learn that, in a family where all my mother and father ever do is complain?
Now I’m going to walk out there into the ballroom and be polite again. Have a soda, dip my potato chip in sour cream, and giggle about this fire I didn’t see, don’t care about, and hate the smell of.
She was immensely tired. Maybe this really was the last dance. Maybe she would never conquer this heavy sick feeling. Matt wanted her to dance and forget her parents. As if it didn’t matter.
But they were her parents. It would always matter.
Perhaps she could just sleep for several weeks, and when she woke up it would all have solved itself. Sleeping Beauty had the right idea. Lie there on your pedestal and let somebody else deal with the wickedness abroad.
Sleep, Emily thought. It’s a nice enough idea, but in what house? What room? What family?
She began to cry again. Matt sighed, as though Emily’s tears were a burden to him. And, of course, they were.
Emily tried to stop crying.
Another, softer hand rested on hers. It was Anne, touching her across Matt’s lap.
“Live with me,” Anne said. “I want you. We have a large house, you know. And a guest room. And my father’s abroad again, so we’re kind of at loose ends. We need somebody else.” Anne’s smile was both sad and eager. “We need another topic, too, Emily. If my mom and grandmother could talk about you and your problems, instead of me and my problems—oh, wow, what a difference it would make!”
Live with Anne Stephens.
Emily tried to imagine it.
Matt, however, did not think much of the idea. “You mean you want Em around in order to make life easier for you?” he demanded.
“Matt,” Anne said softly. “I know what it’s like to hurt all over. I know what it’s like to look into the next few months and wonder if you can live through them. And people helped me, Matt. They made life easier for me. Isn’t that what friends are for?”
Matt could only wish that right now he was with friends like Gary and Mike and Con. Girls were always getting deep and intense and exhausting. What if M&M came to live with him and wanted to talk like this all the time? Matt liked to talk about antique cars and baseball. All this talk of hurt and the meaning of friendship….“She could stay with us,” Matt said uneasily.
Anne patted his hand, too. “She could,” Anne agreed. “But I don’t think you want to find yourselves in the mess I’ve been in.”
“Hey,” Matt said indignantly, “if you think that I—”
Anne kept patting. “No, I don’t,” she said. “I’m just telling you that my house is a better place for Emily than your house. That way she can keep dating you like a normal pe
rson, and have a normal life.”
Actually that sounded pretty darn good. Matt wanted to date like a normal person. Coping with Emily’s family problems sounded as if it would consist of sitting and moping, sitting and worrying, sitting and talking deep depressing stuff for hours.
“Anyway,” Anne said, “I have a little sorting out of my own to do. Emily and I can sit up every night and counsel each other.”
Matt could think of nothing worse, but Emily and Anne began jabbering across him, planning the living arrangements, and the studying, and the talking, and the phone calls.
He waited. Emily’s voice, which started low and sad, began to rise. Matt didn’t really listen to the words but just the tune, ready to start dancing when the pitch of her voice reached its usual happy level.
“The guest room is boring,” Anne said. “We’ll have to decorate it. It’s got vanilla colored walls without a single picture, and plain Colonial curtains without any trim, and the carpet is a dull speckled greyish color. Mother has this ugly throw on the bed that somebody gave her: big sprawling roses in pink and yellow and red, and the leaves are lime green. You won’t even be able to sleep until you cover it with a blanket. Then we’ll put up rock star posters and stuff.”
Emily’s mother never paid attention to Emily’s room. She certainly never cleaned it; that was Emily’s job. But neither would she allow Emily to spend any money on it. There was never another coat of paint, never a suggestion that they could replace the old tired bedspread this year.
Emily loved the advertising in Seventeen: her walls were papered with cutout perfume ads or jeans ads. But if Emily were to Scotch-tape sexy record jackets on the walls or cents-off coupons for detergent, it was all the same to her mother.
Emily had always wanted a mother who cared: a mother who said, “Absolutely not! I refuse to allow those things on your walls!” or else a mother who said, “Listen, darling, let’s do your room all over this year. Yellow, do you think? Or do you like mauve?”