Saturday Night (8 page)

Anne Stephens and Con Winters, locked together as always, glanced up. Beth Rose read identical confusion on them. They could not quite identify her. Well, there were some seven hundred juniors and the same number of seniors; it was not surprising. But it still hurt. She had admired Anne for so many years; she would have liked to think Anne could recognize her face, at least.

Gary was good friends with Con. He stopped to talk. Anne smiled the blank smile of someone waiting to be introduced. “This,” said Gary, smiling into Beth’s eyes and not theirs, “is Beth Rose Chapman.”

Beth felt as if her name had just been entered on some sort of social honor roll. Con shook her hand. Anne smiled more naturally. “You are wearing the most beautiful dress, Beth,” said Anne. “I’ve never seen one like it. Is it an antique?”

“Yes. My great aunt Madge wore it to her prom fifty years ago.”

Anne clapped her hands, laughing. “I love it! What a wonderful family tradition! I hope when I have a family—”

Her voice broke off abruptly. She bit her lip, and stared off into the decorations. Neither boy noticed. They were talking about food. Con was recommending the little round hot things with the sausage. “Yeah,” said Gary, “my father made those. They’re always good.”

“Are you all right?” said Beth to Anne.

Anne stared at her with a queerly frozen look.

“We’re going to sit down over here,” said Con, pointing to a pair of oak park benches Kip had gotten donated for the evening. “Come sit with us after you get some food.”

“I’m fine,” said Anne quietly, just to Beth, and Beth had the strangest sensation of having been given some sort of message.

“Here’s your plate,” said Gary, handing her a small paper one with a Thanksgiving-type design of turkeys and cornucopias and a dark orange napkin. She glanced back at Anne, but Anne’s back was to her now. It must have been the light, thought Beth. This is my night to fall into fantasies that mean nothing.

“Thank you,” she said to Gary. What is Gary thinking? she wondered. Is he trying to figure out why I’m here alone? What is he planning for his evening? Why did he come alone—he of all people? Am I, Beth Rose Chapman, really going to sit out the dance with Anne Stephens, Con Winter, and Gary Anthony?

Gary took her arm—she who had never had a boy escort her anywhere, ever—and they walked back to where Con and Anne were sitting. It took real juggling on Gary’s part to manage his plate, his drink, and her arm. All that waitering at his father’s restaurant, she thought, but she didn’t kid him; she had no idea what Gary would consider amusing.

Anne was grateful for the food. If she couldn’t hang onto Con, at least she could hang onto a plate and a plastic cup of cider. She watched her fingers, and the fingers seemed very calm considering the position their owner was in. I’m falling apart, thought Anne. It’s going to hit me right now, right here, in public.

She looked at Con, and he looked away instantly, saying, “Here comes Gary. Doesn’t Beth look fantastic?”

“Lovely,” said Anne mechanically.

Where do you stand, Con? she thought. With me … or away from me?

She felt no particular need to return Gary’s smile. Gary was an unusual person, Anne had always thought. He drifted. Friendly, yes, to everybody; she thought if she were to mention any name at all, Gary would say, “Oh, he’s a friend of mine” and mean it. But nobody attached themselves to Gary; not male friends, not girlfriends. Gary kept more distance between himself and other people than anyone she had ever known. And yet he was totally likable.

Maybe he’s wiser than I, thought Anne. If I had kept a little more distance between Con and me. …

She stared at Beth Rose. Beth had a transparent otherworldly aura, as if she had stepped out of some other existence to join them. Where did you come from? thought Anne giddily. Let me go there, too. Maybe it’s safe.

The boys talked college football.

Their words were so much babble to her.

Babble. Babies babbled. What would a real-life baby be like? Instead of senior year. Instead of a life of her own. This other little person’s life. A person who would be around for eighteen years.
I’m
not even eighteen yet, thought Anne. I’m seventeen. I’ll have to take care of this person longer than I’ve even been alive.

W
HEN KIP AND RODDY
arrived at Westerly High, the doorman opened the passenger side to escort the girl in while the boy parked the car and got soaked running back. Sopping wet, but still impressive in his uniform, the doorman was surprised to find Roddy when he whipped open the door. He looked at Kip, whose long gown was still pulled back over her knees so it wouldn’t tangle when she shifted. “Perhaps your passenger could park the car for you, miss,” he suggested, “and I’ll walk you indoors.”

Kip thought, Well, I certainly hired the right man here. She started to get out. Roddy said weakly, “Except that I can’t drive a car with manual transmission, Kip. Both our cars have automatic.” He gave her a pitiful smile. “Otherwise I’d be glad to.”

Too stupid even to drive a real car! thought Kip, loathing him. She, who was usually the first to sympathize, the first to offer comfort, ignored the misery on Roddy’s face. Tonight she felt she could safely hold him responsible for all her own woes. “That’s all right, Roddy,” she said rather nastily. “I’ll get soaked walking back and we’ll be a matched pair.”

Naturally the only parking place left had puddles on both sides. Kip stepped out into two inches of cold water, ruining her satin slippers. She was so disgusted she almost didn’t bother to lift her long skirt, either, but at the last second conceded she didn’t want to ruin it, too, so they ran together through the puddles, Kip holding her skirts very high.

But once inside, her spirits lifted slightly. They’d run into two other couples, who entered the parking lot by the back and had not known there was a doorman in front, so all four of them were soaked, too. Laughing the way people do when they share a misfortune, the girls fixed each other’s hair, commented sadly on the state of their shoes, and the boys wiped themselves down as if they’d come from showers, and rolled their eyes at each other.

And nothing could have been more wonderful than walking into what only that morning had been a mere school cafeteria.

Every inch of it was Kip’s—and every inch was perfect. Kip got tears in her eyes looking. The band was playing, the decorations were perfect, and perfectly lighted, the food was being gobbled, and everybody looked happy and beautiful.

“Kip!” exclaimed Roddy. “You did a grand job.”

Yeah, she thought. Too bad I couldn’t arrive with somebody grand as well.

They followed the scarlet runner she had installed just that afternoon. Every single couple they passed broke away from whatever they were doing to compliment her on the fantastic job she’d done.

“Oh, Kip!” came the cries. “Wonderful! I’m having such a good time!”

“Kip! It looks so terrific. You did such a good job!”

“Kip! If you hadn’t agreed to chair this dance, the administration wouldn’t have let us have it again this year. It’s because of
you
we have this at all!”

Kip bloomed.

She no longer felt wet and scraggly and worthless. She didn’t even feel angry at Roddy for being alive. She felt proud and happy, and when she glanced his way, he was smiling timidly at her, as if they really had something in common and had come together as willing dates, not a pair of last minute losers.

Anne Stephens kissed Kip on both cheeks. Anne did things like that. She always seemed so much more secure and sophisticated than anybody else. Kip felt it was having Con around that did it. With a person like that at your side, week in and week out, you could cope with anything. “Lovely work, Kip,” said Anne, in her mellow voice.

Kip loved Anne’s speaking voice, “I know I’ve told you a hundred times, Anne, but you have to go into radio or television with that voice and your looks.”

To Kip’s surprise, Anne didn’t answer. She looked oddly bitter and frantic and she simply walked off.

“That was odd,” Kip said to Roddy. Roddy said, “What was odd?” and Kip realized Roddy had seen nothing amiss; in fact he was looking after Anne dreamily, as one half in love. Oh, you
fink!
thought Kip. Even
you
have to dream of somebody better!

“Let’s get something to eat,” Roddy suggested.

Kip was always ready to eat, and anyhow, since she’d ordered all that food, she needed to check out the quality. They walked toward the barnboard shed, where junior high boys were lugging in more cases of soda, and bringing hot trays in from the kitchen—and there stood Molly Nelmes and Christopher Vann.

Kip had never liked Molly. Molly didn’t buy candy bars when the school band was raising money for new uniforms; Molly wouldn’t take an hour to sell school pins when the basketball team was raising money for summer basketball camp scholarships; Molly wouldn’t sign the petition to get the student parking lot resurfaced. She wouldn’t even raise her hand to vote during student government meetings because she skipped them and went shopping instead. Molly never got in trouble, either, because the principal was a typical male who responded to her charms just like all the other boys.

As for Christopher, Kip had worked with him when she was a sophomore and he a senior. Christopher had a lot going for him, but he had a real tendency to take credit for the work being done by his committee. In Kip’s opinion, when Christopher applied to college, half his application was lies. He hadn’t done much; he’d just been there and taken credit for it. But how was a college to know? Even most of the kids didn’t, because Christopher was such a glad-hand politician they thought he was working, too. Only the really hard workers like Kip knew he was half real, half cheat.

And tonight … wholly drunk.

For a moment Kip was scared. Could he have gotten drunk
here
? If there was so much as a whiff of liquor at this school there would never be another dance as long as she lived.

If those two slobs sneaked booze into my dance, I’ll kill them, she thought. She had a quick sip from each punch bowl, but no. One was a ginger ale and sherbet mix, the other spiced apple cider. Almost everybody was having soda, though.

The first thing Kip said to them was, “So, Christopher, what are you doing home from Harvard?”

“Slumming,” said Christopher promptly.

Molly laughed.

Kip flushed. Her dance was a slum compared to a Harvard dance—was that what he meant? Now when she looked at her beautiful decorations, they seemed very amateurish and spotty, and they embarrassed her.

To Roddy, Christopher said, “Who are you, kid? You look sorta familiar.”

Next to Christopher, Roddy did look like a kid—scrawny and unformed. However, Christopher was getting heavier. Kip debated saying so out loud and decided against it.

“This,” said Molly in a lazy drawl, “is my little Roddy. When I don’t have anything else to do, I go out with him. Remember? He was hanging around me at the Pou-Belle?”

This was so clearly true, by the way Roddy flushed and hung his head, that Kip wanted to smack them both. Why did Roddy cringe like that? Why didn’t he stand up to Molly? He should laugh at her, or shrug, not dwindle into a puddle.

Christopher laughed, loudly and drunkenly. “He’s really the bottom of the barrel, Molly. Thought you could do better. Look, there’s even a barrel over here. We could toss out all those stupid apples and stuff old Roddy in and see if he falls to the bottom.”

“He will,” said Molly with conviction.

Roddy wilted even more. It made Kip furious that she had to be the one who talked back to Molly. “You don’t exactly rise like cream to the top, yourself, you know, Molly,” said Kip sharply. “In fact, if I had to define where
you
stand, I’d say that—”

“Let it go, Kip,” said Roddy, touching her arm. Not taking it, no—nothing so forceful.

“You’re going to let her talk about you like that?” demanded Kip.

“Just drop it, okay?” mumbled Roddy. “People are looking at us.”

“At
us
, maybe,” said Christopher. “
You
they don’t even see, Roddy.”

In a last desperate effort to remove himself, Roddy said, “Let’s dance, Kip.”

The last thing she wanted to do was dance. She wanted to throw Molly and Christopher out. She glared at Roddy, and now he cringed from
her
. Kip turned her back on Roddy. Her skirt swirled noisily, adding a flourish of sound effects to her gesture. She stalked away from all of them.

“Great dance, Kip,” said a voice.

She managed a smile, and looked up, trying to keep her anger at Roddy, Molly, and Christopher off her face.

It was Gary.

Only the handsomest boy she’d ever had a crush on. A flush of delight came to Kip’s cheeks. Gary had an elusive style. Nobody quite knew where he stood, only that it would be nice to stand there with him. Kip’s heart raced. “Thank you,” she said, thinking,
we
could dance. Oh, Gary, ask
me
to dance!

His arm circled another girl.

It was—Kip stared in disbelief—it was Beth Rose Chapman.

She almost said out loud, “I don’t believe it. You asked
her
?” She choked back the words. The flush on her face deepened, for fear Gary had understood.

“I love your dress, Kip,” said Beth Rose softly.

She had to look down to remember what her dress looked like. The top was very plain, but also very low cut. When she looked down it was like announcing that Gary should look there, too. She was doubly humiliated. But I do look good in it, she thought. She waited, hoping Gary would also tell her the dress was nice.

He said, “Did you lose Roddy? He’s over by the band, probably looking for you.”

He was smiling at her. He didn’t seem to intend irony.

Kip was back at her original low. I get my first date and it’s with pathetic Roddy, because Molly had a better offer. I run into Gary Anthony and it’s his date who says I look nice. Beth Rose. She’s as pathetic as Roddy. If I had to bracket any two losers it would be them.