Prom Date (8 page)

certain mothers were dying to do.

"Got any objections to being called Meg?"

"No." The answer came so quickly, she was almost embarrassed. "I mean, Fm used to Margaret, but I guess I could try answering to Meg." She laughed. "Just don't be surprised if I don't know who you mean."

"Great," he repeated. "Gotta go now. I promised Michael Fd stop over and see how he was doing. But we're all set, right? You're not going to change your mind?"

Margaret stared at the phone in her hand. Change her mind? About going to the prom with Mitch McGill? She didn't think so. "No. That won't happen."

"Let me know what color your dress is, okay? See you tomorrow."

When Margaret had hung up, she knew she should run downstairs, race, fiy, downstairs to give her mother the good news. Adrienne would be ecstatic.

But her legs weren't ready to move. Because Mitch had given her bad news, too, and how was she going to keep that part of the conversation from her mother? Adrienne would be suspicious. She'd want to know what was keeping Margaret from jumping around the room and screaming with joy.

And Margaret couldn't say that it was the

image of Stephanie Markham dangling by one hand from the observation deck at the lighthouse while someone above her kicked at that ever-weakening hand to make her let go and fall to the rocks and the wild surf below her.

headache would just go away, I think I could do anything.

There's a new problem, though. One I hadn't expected. Margaret She asked too many questions today. Made me nervous. What business is it of hers, anyway? Why doesn't she just butt out? Maybe putting that pin from her store on the deck was a mistake. I thought it was clever. But she's clever, too, and the discovery of that pin put her brain in gear, I saw that.

Margaret could really mess things up. In more ways than one. I saw her talking to a couple of guys at the picnic today, cute guys. And they looked like they were noticing her for the first time. That's not good. I never expected her to be competition. Not her.

Shouldn't I do something about Margaret? I really can't afford to take any chances here. She's dangerous. I wouldn't even have to make it look like an accident, because who would connect her to Stephanie's death? She hardly knew Stephanie.

Ooh, my head hurts so! I can't even remember right now why I didn't help Stephanie. Why I let her fall.

Oh, yeah. The prom.

I need to sleep.

ril do something about Margaret tomorrow.

102

The news that Stephanie Markham had died under "suspicious circumstances" was released to the public early the following morning.

In spite of that bombshell, classes at Toomey High were held as scheduled, although it was announced during homeroom that there would be no school on the following day, Friday, to allow the victim's classmates to attend her funeral service. No one, not even the rowdiest students who hadn't given Stephanie's fate a second thought, shouted "Hooray!" at the announcement.

A somber, fearful silence had fallen over the entire school. Stephanie's closest friends trailed through the halls with pale, sometimes tear-streaked faces. Beth, Stephanie's best friend, had chosen to stay home, as had Michael.

There were, of course, those students who were not quite as shattered.

At lunch, Margaret had expected to talk about the terrible event of the day before, especially now that the whole town knew Stephanie's death hadn't been accidental.

Instead, they'd only been seated in the unusually quiet, yellow-walled cafeteria a few minutes when Lacey asked eagerly, "So, who do you think Michael will take to the prom

Margaret gasped. Her sandwich, halfway to her mouth, came to an abrupt halt in midair. 'What did you say?"

Lacey didn't flinch. "I saidy who do we think Michael will ask to the prom now? I mean, he's not going to miss his own prom, right? Might even be king this year, if he asks the right girl."

"I'm sure he'll get it. He'd make a great king." Caroline agreed. She had tried another new hairdo, this one an upsweep, but by mid-morning it was already coming undone, a bird's nest caught in a hurricane. She had tried to repair the damage with bobby pins. Two girls at a table behind them were pointing at Caroline, and whispering and giggling. Unaware, Caroline continued, "Who is going to be queen this year? Not that I care, of course, since I

probably won't be there. But everyone seemed to think that Stephanie was a sure thing. Who else is there?''

"Beth hasn't been queen yet," Jeannine said. "And I like her the best of the Pops."

"Never mind the queen," Lacey said irritably. "It's the kings we should be interested in. I personally think that Michael Danz is much cuter than Lucas Nelson. Besides, Michael is available now and Lucas isn't. He's Beth's date." She grinned. "Michael smiled at me at the picnic, during the softball game. When Stephanie wasn't around, of course," she added hastily.

Margaret had been stricken speechless by Lacey's callousness. Now, she found her voice. It slid from her mouth quietly, but it was laced with pure acid. "Lacey, has Michael Danz ever once in his life said hello to you? Has he ever given a single sign that he is even aware of your existence on this planet?" She knew it was cruel. But Margaret felt no remorse. How could Lacey be so clueless? How insensitive did you have to be to drool over a boy whose girlfriend had been dead less than twenty-four hours?

Insensitive enough, apparently, not to be wounded by Margaret's unkind questions. Lacey didn't even redden. "Just that smile yesterday. And that could have been because I caught a pop fly that helped out our team. But there's always hope. And Fm not the only one who's thinking this way, Margaret. No one at this table has a date for her own senior prom. We all know that the pretty, popular girls already have dates, so Michael isn't going to have a lot to choose from. And if there is anyone at this table not hoping he'll choose her, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I'm not," Margaret said, keeping her eyes on her sandwich. This didn't seem like the best moment in the world to tell them she was going, but she didn't want them finding out from someone else. "Mitch McGill asked me last night."

All three faces went blank. Caroline stared at Margaret. "Asked you what?"

"Asked me to the prom." Margaret was grateful that people around them had begun talking. The buzz of conversation, though it was quieter than usual, might keep everyone in the room from overhearing her friends' reaction to what she had just told them.

''The Mitch McGill?" Lacey repeated. "Asked you to go to the prom with him?"

Annoyed, Margaret said with some heat, "Stranger things have happened, Lacey. Don't make it sound like this news ranks right up

there with someone giving birth to an alien's baby."

Jeannine shook a headful of frizzy red curls and breathed a "Wow!" that spoke volumes. "I thought he was taking Liza. Everyone thought so." She shifted her thin frame on the metal folding chair. "Well, no wonder you're not interested in who Michael might invite

now."

Caroline said nothing, but her eyes suddenly looked suspiciously bright.

Margaret knew how Caroline must be feeling. They had spent every prom night throughout high school together, having what they called a "non-prom party." Freshman year, they hadn't expected to be invited. In their sophomore year, they'd held only a slight hope that some cute junior or senior might notice they were alive. It hadn't happened. Junior year, they'd been much more optimistic, since by that time they actually knew more guys. But those guys had asked other girls, not them.

Sometimes their non-prom party had been held at Caroline's house, sometimes at Margaret's. They'd held it on the Point once. That had been fun, but only Margaret was willing to climb up to the top of the lighthouse. So she'd had to go up alone in the dark. That had

been a little creepy. Still, they'd always had fun, and they had already planned a get-together at Caroline's house this year. Margaret's announcement meant that things would be different. There would be only Caroline, Jeannine, and Lacey at their non-prom festivities. Margaret knew that had to hurt Caroline.

"Your mother must be jumping for joy," Caroline said then, toying with one of the bobby pins in her hair. "Did she already sell the blue dress?"

"No. She was saving it for me. Hid it upstairs in the Sweatbox." Margaret didn't add that Adrienne was also saving the turquoise for Caroline, just in case. She could ask Scott, she told herself in an effort to ease the pain she felt for Caroline. She could.

Not one of them had said it was wonderful that she was going to the prom.

"I wonder why he's not going with Liza," Lacey said lazily.

"She asked someone from her brother Brandon's college." Margaret pushed her sandwich aside.

"Mitch must have been really upset," Caroline said, shoving her own uneaten sandwich to the side. "Everyone just assumed Liza was going with him."

frritated by the implication that she was second choice, Margaret said, "He hadn't planned on going at all." She had no intention of agreeing that she was Mitch's consolation prize because Liza Buffet had chosen someone else. "No money. But his grandmother sent him a check."

"Never mind Mitch McGill," Lacey said impatiently. "We all thought he was already taken, anyway. It's Michael we need to concentrate on."

Margaret shook her head in disbelief. They had not said one word about the news release from the police department that morning. "I can't believe we're even discussing the prom. You don't find it utterly terrifying," she asked quietly, "that Stephanie's death wasn't an accident? That someone kicked her hand away from that railing?"

Lacey looked up in surprise. "What's that got to do with us? Stephanie's a Pop. We're not. Whoever had it in for her probably doesn't even know we exist." A dreamy look appeared in her eyes. "I wonder," she mused aloud, "if your mother still has that gorgeous pale pink dress, the one with the long, full skirt."

"You're too short for a dress like that." Jeannine thought for a minute, then added with hope in her voice, "Michael's in my calculus class, I've helped him solve more than one

really horrendous problem. I wonder if he remembers."

Annoyed that they weren't happier for her and repulsed by the talk about Michael Danz, Margaret stood up. "I can't deal with this." She picked up her books. "Well, don't lose hope, any of you," she added sarcastically. "There's always a chance that at the funeral tomorrow, maybe right in the middle of the service, Michael will walk up to one of you and invite you to the prom. Just in case, you might want to run over to Quartet after school today and grab yourself a dress. Mom has a few left. Just don't tell her who you hope to be going with, or she'll be as repulsed as I am."

"Easy for you to talk," Jeannine retorted. "You already have a date. Which you can thank Liza for, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you." Margaret turned to leave.

"Besides, Margaret," Caroline said quietly, "it's not like Michael was always faithful to Stephanie. Everyone knows he fooled around sometimes. So maybe he's not as shattered as you think he should be."

"I'm outa here," Margaret snapped. Five seconds later, she was striding down the main hallway, her cheeks high with color. She was angry that her very best friends for years now.

hadn't shared her happiness at being invited to the prom. And she couldn't believe they were all, even Caroline, hoping to be invited themselves by someone whose girlfriend of several years had just been killed. Revolting.

Later, as she and Caroline worked together at Quartet, there was an uneasy, strained silence between them. During a lull in customer activity, Margaret went up to the Sweatbox to iron fabric, switching on the portable tape deck on a shelf behind her, for company.

Caroline followed her. She stood in the doorway, cracking her knuckles nervously. Margaret ignored her, concentrating instead on keeping the wobbly old board steady on its wooden legs.

"You don't think someone like Michael Danz would ever ask someone like me out, do you?" Caroline finally asked, her voice low.

Margaret reached out to turn down the stereo. She set the iron on its heel. "Caroline, Stephanie was killed yesterday! No one's talking about that. You all sat there at lunch and talked about who Mkhael might take to the prom now. He probably won't even go! Aren't you the least bit worried about what happened to Stephanie up on that deck?"

Caroline walked over to stand at the long,

narrow, open window. Late-day shadows from outside highlighted the sharp angles in her face. "I didn't like Stephanie, Margaret. That's no surprise. None of us did. Just because she was a big deal at school doesn't mean she was nice. She wasn't. Do you think if I'd been killed, Stephanie would have stayed home from the prom?"

She had a point. "No. But Caroline, aren't you worried about who killed her? I mean, someone deliberately kicked her hand away from the post. Maybe pushed her over the edge, too. Doesn't that scare you?"

Caroline picked up a bolt of red fabric, began smoothing its folds. "Like Lacey said, Margaret, what does that have to do with us? Stephanie was a Pop. Maybe she made one of her many friends mad. We don't run with that crowd. So what do we have to worry about?" She laid the bolt of fabric back on its shelf, "Maybe it was a transient who killed her. Either way, if we stay away from the Point and," her voice hardened, "we don't suddenly become wildly popular, we're okay, right? In fact," her voice slowed as a new thought formed, "now that I think about it, maybe we wallflowers are better off. Stephanie was going to the prom, am I right? But now she's not."

Margaret's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Caroline shrugged. "First the dresses were ruined, and then Stephanie, who was a shoo-in for queen, flies off the deck of the lighthouse and becomes fish food."

"Caroline!"

"Sorry. But don't you see a connection here, Margaret? You're a very smart person. I can't believe you haven't already seen the link between those two very nasty events. It's the prom, Margaret. Anyone can see that." Then, as she walked back to the door to go downstairs, she added, "Look, I'm sorry I was such a jerk at lunch. I really am glad Mitch asked you to the prom. At least I was before this happened. I don't know, Margaret, maybe you'd be better off celebrating with us. You don't want to end up like Stephanie. Or like one of those three prom dresses, right?"