The Shadow of the Bear: A Fairy Tale Retold (16 page)

Or she could simply stay here… and let Bear be arrested…

It would be the easy, safe way out, but Blanche realized that it would be the coward’s way. As uncertain as she still was about Bear, she couldn’t, couldn’t treat him like this. He deserved more of her trust, especially now.

Hands on the latch, she prayed an entire “Hail Mary,” then opened the door and walked quickly to the sink.

Eileen and Lisa looked over, and watched her, silently. She could see their reflections looking at her in the mirror. Her own reflection was bright red. Hardly breathing, she fiddled for a paper towel, hearing them savor the silence. In her imagination, she could see their black-rimmed eyes boring into her so potently that they left marks on her skin.

Finally, Lisa spoke, “Hey, Blanche—” but suddenly the door banged open and a girl outside hissed, “Teacher!” signaling the three girls to duck into the stalls and flush their cigarettes down the toilet. They pushed past Blanche out of the restroom, Lisa breathing, “Watch your step, Immaculate Complexion,” as her red lips passed Blanche’s ear. A moment later a suspicious chaperone peered into the restroom and sniffed. Blanche wasn’t smoking, but all the same, she received a searching look before the chaperone closed the door.

Blanche was fighting back angry tears as she burst out of the restroom and made her way back through the crowds to find Bear.

She found him drifting along on the outer fringes of the crowd by the gym doors, but before she could say anything to him, he steered her back inside. He took her onto the dance floor, elbowing through the commotion to the far side of the gym, away from the chaperones. She wondered if something had happened, but he said nothing as they began to dance.

The song was a silly one from the sixties, and Blanche felt that her awkward attempts to dance to it weren’t very successful. But what else could she do? She couldn’t dance in front of Bear the way the girls around her were dancing with their dates. It was a wretched situation, and she decided that she wanted to go home.

“Bear,” she said at last, but she hadn’t spoken loudly enough and he didn’t hear her. Just then, the song ended, and a completely different beat began. It was an oldie—a song she faintly recognized.

Say, it’s only a paper moon,

Sailing over a cardboard sea,

But it wouldn’t be make believe,

If you believed in me.

There were groans and a general exodus of kids from the dance floor. It wasn’t the heavy-handed beat they were used to—it had a swing beat. Obviously one of the chaperones had requested it.

Yes, it’s only a canvas sky,

Hanging over a muslin tree,

But it wouldn’t be make believe,

If you believed in me.

It sounded like a decent song, but Blanche had no idea how to dance to it. Some of the athletic types were still on the floor, bopping around, and a few of the chaperones were cutting loose on the sidelines. But most of the crowd had stopped dancing, and were talking loudly, hoping that the DJ would change it.

She saw Bear staring at the dance floor, an angry look on his face. Suddenly, he grabbed her hands. “Come on,” he said, “follow me,” and pulled her into the middle of the gym.

He faced her, putting one hand on her waist and with the other held her hand while he stood still, feeling for the beat. The next minute, he pulled her towards him and began swing dancing, carrying her with him.

It felt so natural even though she had no idea what to do. Amazed, she yielded to him and let him do what he wanted. “I’m going to spin you,” he said in her ear, and the next second he pushed her away from him and let go of her hand and she spun around, her satin skirt rippling marvelously around her legs. Next instant, he had pulled her in, whirled her out in the other direction, and spun her again. It was so exhilarating she almost laughed.

Without your love,

It’s a honkey-tonk parade,

Without your love,

It’s a melody played in a penny arcade.

The crowd on the sidelines gaped at the longhaired rat in the tux dancing the jitterbug with all the flair of a veteran. And the thin girl in his arms became an iris of swirling color with every flick of his wrists, as if he were working some kind of spell.

It’s a Barnum and Bailey world,

Just as phony as it can be,

But it wouldn’t be make believe

If you believed in me.

When the song was done, Blanche landed exhausted in his arms and he dipped her dramatically, and drawing her up, kissed her on the forehead.

“You were great,” he told her. “For five minutes, you were the envy of every girl in the gym. You could see it in their faces.”

Blanche was in a daze as they walked back to their seats, but still exhilarated. He had kissed her. On the forehead, well, sure, but it was a kiss. Her first. And she had never danced like that before. She felt a lightness inside, as though all of her dark angry thoughts had spun away with that miraculous dance.

“That was the first time I actually liked dancing,” she burst out to him.

He grinned at her, “That’s because that was
real
dancing.”

She stared at him in awe and with a new respect. His long hair seemed poetic instead of pathetic now. First the Sonata, and now this dancing—“There’s something strange about you—” she started to say.

“Oh, well, thanks!” he chuckled, his brown eyes twinkling at her.

“No, I mean—” her thoughts trailed away as Dr. Freet, the principal, loomed into their vision. He looked like his artistic brother, but taller and balder. Right now, his face was hard.

“Young man, I want you out of here, before I call the police. Out of this building, and away from school property.”

“Listen, I was just taking my friend here to her prom. Is that a crime? What, are you going to embarrass her by kicking her out of her own prom just because you don’t like the way I look?” Bear said angrily.

“It’s not because of how you look, it’s because of who you are,” the principal said coldly. “She can stay, if she wants.”

“No, thank you, I’ll go,” Blanche said quietly, and gripped Bear’s arm to tell him that she was serious. She just wanted to get out.

The principal escorted them to the coatroom and Bear apparently decided to unnerve the man by helping Blanche put her cloak on and opening the door for her with the smoothest gentility as they left the building. They walked out of the school silently.

Bear steered them through the shadows of the now deserted parking lot. The rain had paused, and the sidewalk shimmered with beads of oily rain.

“Blanche, I’m sorry this happened,” he said quietly, still sounding angry.

But she clung to his arm. “Bear, I had such a wonderful time,” she said, sighing.

He seemed surprised. “Really?” he asked.

“Really!” She met his eyes, and saw them kindle with renewed warmth.

“Great!” he said exultantly, and lifted her up over a puddle. She laughed, and he accidentally missed and set her down in the middle of it with a splash. She gasped at her wet shoes and then burst out laughing, hugging him.

“Forget it, just forget it!” she gasped.

He held her too, looking into her eyes, and she suddenly began to feel very shy. But all at once Bear stiffened and whirled Blanche behind his back. She peered around him and saw three boys.

They were standing there, watching them. One of them Blanche recognized as Tom.

“What do you want?” Bear said after a pause, in a voice Blanche had never heard him use before, slow and dangerous. He still held her hand tightly.

“That’s what we’re wondering about you, junkie,” the biggest boy said, with a grin on his face. “We were wondering if you happened to bring back the fifty dollars you ripped off from my buddy here last week.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone else,” Bear said evenly.

“Yeah, sure. We paid one of your boys for four hits and when we got it, there were only two. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t mess with Shaky’s stuff.” Bear continued to stare at him levelly. “You take it up with him. It’s not me.”

“How can we believe that?”

“I don’t think you picked the right time to talk to me.” Bear had a warning edge to his voice.

“Oh, I think we picked the right time. Seems you’d be in a more generous mood now—anxious not to get into any trouble.”

“I can get into trouble anywhere I want,” Bear responded, growling. “I haven’t got a reputation to whitewash.”

Tom laughed, “Well, if it was your friend who gypped us, maybe you’d be willing to make up the difference.”

“I haven’t got any money. Even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you,” Bear snarled. His voice terrified Blanche, but she stood still.

“Any money would be okay—” the boy’s eyes landed on Blanche’s purse, “Even your girl’s cash would be just fine.”

Bear snorted. “You’re very funny, moron. Tell you what, you push off right now and I’ll agree to forget you said that.”

But the boy nodded to the others and all three of them rushed him. Blanche screamed, leaping out of the way as one of the boys staggered and reached for her. Bear shouted at her to run. She darted away, but one of the boys pursued her, snarling and laughing. The next thing she knew he had caught her, and grabbed her by the arm. She hurled her purse away with her free hand and kicked at the boy when he scurried after it. Then another boy shoved her, and she fell, the pavement biting her cheek. Suddenly there was a yelp and she heard the purse drop beside her. A body hit the ground with a crushing thud, someone was shouting for the police, and two arms were pulling her to her feet while the world swirled. She heard Bear’s voice telling her to run, and heard someone else yelling Bear’s name. Bear pulled her along, but the air was growing black, darker than black normally seemed—

There was an ugly sound of a curse word and suddenly Bear was gone and she heard the sound of more fighting. She tried to move away but caught her shoe in a grate and staggered forward. Someone caught her, someone smaller than Bear, but with Bear’s voice. “I’ve got you. Hold on, now. Chin up,” the voice was saying, and through the moisture in her eyes she could see a face with eyes like Bear’s swimming in the blackness before her, glimmering like the reflection of the moon in the river, and then the depths swallowed him up.

The thin boy grabbed Blanche and half dragged her along with him while Bear dispatched the punk who was still wrestling him with a thump on the head. His assailant crumpled to the ground and Bear ran to the thin boy and gathered Blanche in his arms.

“She’s blacked out!” said the thin boy.

Bear moaned, searching her pale, blank face. “Get a taxi. It’s going to be pretty hot around here soon.”

“Righto.” The boy jumped into the street and signaled a passing yellow cab. It pulled over obligingly.

Bear gave the driver Blanche’s address, then sank back into the cushions. “What’s up now?” he asked the thin boy.

The boy’s face was pained. “It’s trouble. I can’t tell you here.”

“Right.” Bear stared ahead as Blanche’s street came in sight, but when they turned onto it, there was a police car parked in front of the Brier’s house.

 Bear blinked, licked his lips. He glanced at his companion, and saw the same consternation on his face that he had felt at the sight of the patrol car.

“Driver,” Bear said suddenly. “Change of address. We’re going to Manhattan.”

The driver turned around, squinted at them suspiciously, then shrugged and turned away with a grunt. He obviously didn’t want to get involved.

The cab passed the police car in front of the Briers’ door, streaked down to the end of the block, turned right, and was off again into the night.

Chapter 11

AS IT TURNED OUT, Rose’s evening was somewhat different than she expected. Rob had gotten in the car and threw it in gear. Next thing she knew, they were skimming down the rainy streets to the prom.

Rob turned up the rock song on the car stereo after asking her if she minded. She did mind, but said she didn’t, just to be polite. Her fingers kept pinching the satin of her dress and rubbing it together, to feel its slickness. Rob talked, raising his voice over the stereo, about small, unimportant things like the weather and the baseball team’s lousy season. Rose tried to come up with other topics of conversation, but felt at a loss.