Last Dance (8 page)

Nobody had ever said of Kip that she had style. What a wonderful word! Not that she was good at pushing people around; not that she was good at organizing; not that she had to be in charge, or die.

She had
style
.

She turned to see what Mike thought, but Michael Robinson was standing behind Con Winters, his head bent next to Molly Nelmes, and they were talking to each other. Kip looked to see if at least Beth Rose had heard, but Beth Rose was giggling over Gary’s bleeding pants. Anne and Con were like statues frozen in a game of tag.

Had nobody heard that lovely compliment?

Was there no one to share it with?

What good was a terrific compliment if you had to repeat it yourself in order to be appreciated?

Kip’s chin came up high enough to make swallowing hard. Slipping into the cabana, Kip took a huge white towel from the pile behind the desk and brought it out to Anne, who was trembling in the evening breeze. The boy she had yanked into the pool thanked her for Anne’s sake. “Shall I get a towel for you, too?” Kip asked.

The boy grinned. Another nice grin. Kind of like Mike’s. Probably hid another selfish personality, too. The boy said, “No, thanks, I saw where you got it. I’ll get my own, no need to put you out.”

Gary said, “I came in red pants, and I’m going to leave in pink. Look at this, all my dye is on the pavement. Hey, Kip, throw me a towel, too! I’m going to turn it red for them.” He walked wide-legged toward Anne and Lee, dripping pinkly all the way.

Gary glanced back over his shoulder. Beth Rose had not followed. He could see her hovering by the bushes. In the dark he could not tell what she was thinking, or what she wanted. But then Beth Rose rarely said what she wanted anyway. You had to guess, which Gary found difficult. He would in some ways have preferred Kip, who all but made you out a list.

Con sighed and tagged after Gary. He was going to get blamed for the water thing, too. Okay, he
was
to blame for the baby. But he hadn’t pushed Anne! He would never do a thing like that! She was just clumsy and awkward. Although she was invariably graceful. For a moment Con wondered…and remembered that Anne had called him names in front of all their classmates.
Cockroach!

I stuck by you, he thought, conveniently forgetting that he had stuck much closer to Molly.

He took a deep breath. Okay, he would be mature about all this. It was what his parents told him to do all day long. Furious, humiliated, and resentful—but trying to look casual—Con decided to hug Anne.

Anne walked away from him.

Con grit his teeth and walked after her.

Anne walked farther away.

Con didn’t move again. Let her sob into her towel! He could not stand any more of this female-ness!

He stood, wondering how to extricate himself from this mess, when his friend Gary rescued him once again. Gary said, “Hey, Con, dance with Beth Rose for me till we get dried off, okay? And get our quizzes all filled out. I want that VCR!”

Con saluted, grateful for the assignment. He didn’t have to follow Anne, and he didn’t have to worry about Molly making a move either. He could just be Beth Rose’s escort. “Come on, Beth,” he said. He thought that if anybody in the ballroom teased him for being called a cockroach by his girlfriend he would break their bones. And enjoy doing it.

The resort’s cabana included not just hot showers and dressing rooms, but a couple of clothes dryers and a nice selection of hair dryers. Kip convinced the boys and Anne to wrap up in the huge white towels while she tossed their clothes in a dryer. She put Anne’s at low heat in one dryer so wrinkles wouldn’t set in the fragile fabric, and the boys’ suits in the second dryer. Lee and Gary paraded in front of their small but appreciative audience with the towels around their waists, chests thrown forward, arguing about whose muscles and whose tan were superior.

“Gary wins,” Lee said mournfully. “And to think I’ve graduated and will never have another chance.”

“There’s all summer,” Gary pointed out. “I’m in a fighting mood. Water does that to me. While everybody else dances, you and I can wrestle.”

“No,” Anne said, “don’t wrestle. Let’s all calm down.” She didn’t feel well; her insides felt all mushy. She looked at these boys and tried to imagine herself saying chummily, “See, I just had a baby, and I’m not all the way on my feet, yet.” Oh, yes, a perfect opening line for everyday chat at a dance.

She wanted Con here wrapping this hot towel around her, drying her hair, telling her not to worry, telling her he was sorry. This was the dance that she had dreaded, and he had insisted she
had
to go to, then he started the evening off by shoving her into the water?

Lee, knowing nothing of Anne’s background, kept on talking about wrestling. He seemed to think Anne would love to watch a good wrestling match here in the cabana—give her a little something to enjoy while she dried her hair.

Should Kip tell Lee that Anne was weepy because her darling Con, the father of her baby, had once again proved a rather weak limb to go out on?

But holding the dryer to Anne’s hair, running her fingers through the golden strands to separate them and fluff them, Kip realized how attractive Lee was. Maybe
this
is the boy for Anne, Kip Elliott thought. Maybe it’s time Anne admits that Con is handsome but worthless. This Lee fellow—he’s not as handsome, and he’s probably not worth
much
—but he’s definitely worth
more
. Maybe I should bring them together, the way I bring all other things together.

Kip said, “Here, Lee, you do Anne’s hair while I check on how the clothes are drying.”

She shoved the hair dryer in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

Lee was very startled. He had no idea how to be a hairdresser, and it wasn’t exactly a career he yearned for either. He held the dryer as if it was burning his palm, and hoped that Anne’s hair would dry very, very fast. “Did you two come alone?” he asked the girls. “Or are you both with Gary?”

Gary laughed a little.

“
All
the girls are with me,” Gary said. “I have quite a fan club in Westerly. They see me dripping pink dye on the floor and they go berserk.”

“No, really,” Lee said. “I want to know.”

“Anne’s date washed out,” Kip said. “Melted in the heat, faded in the sun.”

“My makeup is ruined,” Anne said.

“No, you look perfect,” Lee told her.

And of course she did, Kip thought. That was the thing with Anne; it was very deceiving. When a person always looked perfect, you figured her life went in perfect lines, too. Now Kip without her makeup was hardly even visible. Kip didn’t even like her four little brothers, let alone the rest of the world, to see her before she had her mascara on.

That was the trouble with my relationship with Mike, Kip thought. He adored my family: all the noise and all the brothers and all the places we were always going. He liked the crowd of it, because he could bring along his brothers and sisters, and we could be this gang of happy people.

But he didn’t actually like me
.

Gary said, “Okay, dumbo, here’s how it works.”

For one horrible moment, both Anne and Kip looked up, thinking Gary was talking to them and about to explain to these female dumbos how life worked. But of course Gary was just telling Lee that Anne was with Con and Kip was with Mike. The girls laughed. “What?” Gary said, not hearing anything funny.

“You,” Anne said, poking him gently. “You’re always funny. And what’s more, you do have a fan club. I’m in it.”

“And I’ll organize it,” Kip said.

They all laughed.

The cabana was very warm, and very humid. Gary watched his less than red pants through the glass of the dryer. Kip’s hair turned to brown frizz and Anne’s hair, of course, lay smooth and silken on her shoulders. Her dress came out fine, but her slippers were ruined for good.

“Oh, well,” Anne said, “I always dance barefoot anyway.”

There was a funny little silence.

Kip thought, And who’s going to dance with you tonight, Anne?

Anne thought, And who’s going to dance with me tonight?

Gary thought, I wouldn’t be in Con’s shoes for anything. Afraid Anne would start to cry, Gary said, “Well, Anne, my fan, may I have the pleasure of escorting you back to the dance? I am damp but honest.”

Anne did start to cry, but she smiled through her tears, and Gary pretended he didn’t see them. Anne bowed to him, and he bowed back, offering his arm. Together they walked out of the cabana.

The pink and white striped awning over the door fluttered in an evening breeze.

Lee figured he couldn’t go wrong by imitating Gary. He turned to the pretty girl with the fluffy brown hair and the perky laugh and said, “Well, Kip, lady with style, may I have the pleasure of escorting
you
back to your dance?”

Kip giggled, pleased beyond measure that after all there
was
somebody who had heard Mr. Martin’s compliment.

“You could even stay to waltz with me,” she said, taking his hand as if she actually meant to waltz.

Lee panicked. He could not dance at all, let alone waltz. He had no sense of rhythm. Half the kids you saw dancing fast dances looked fantastic, and the other half looked ridiculous, as if they had all come down with a twitching disease. Lee knew he was of the twitching disease sort. But waltz? A dance with steps? Horrible thought.

“I’ve never danced in my life,” Lee said.

“In your
life
?” Kip repeated.

“In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever
seen
anybody waltz,” Lee admitted.

“You haven’t lived,” Kip told him, and she proceeded to teach Lee to waltz. “All you have to do is count to three,” she said, “and move your feet in a little triangle. You sort of chase your own feet. Like this.”

Lee had heard that there was a follower and a leader in every dance couple, but since he had never tried it, he had no idea what it really meant. Kip simply guided his feet by holding his back and his hand.

He actually felt graceful! Kip swirled in the tiny space; her dress swirling after them, its folds of wild color catching between Lee’s legs as he moved, and then sliding back against Kip. How feminine she felt!

He got the hang of it far quicker than he had ever thought, and he didn’t feel like a jerk at all. He bent his head, and his face brushed her hair slightly, and a whiff of her perfume came to him, and Lee lost the beat.

“You’re a natural, Lee. Maybe tonight you and I will waltz again.” She sighed and let go of him and stood in front of the mirror running her fingers through her hair. She sighed a second time, as if the hair were hopeless. Lee said, “It looks really nice.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, at least it’s dark out.”

“Guess I’d better wait on a few tables, huh?” he said. “While you waltz away the evening.”

They walked out of the cabana.

The stars and a half moon were out.

Lee stuck his elbow toward the girl, and to his delight, she tucked her arm in it.

Pretty nice.

I am Cinderella, Kip thought, her hand tucked in Lee’s arm. I go back to the ballroom and I’m alone. Mike will have found a group, and be asking quiz questions. He’ll shy away from me. If I decide to catch up to Mike now, I’ll have to follow him like a puppy. Lee was mumbling something about waltzes. She managed a smile. Just call me Kip, the girl who can always smile, she thought sadly. “I don’t think this band is going to do any waltzes, Lee.”

“Well, you claim to be an organizer. Organize it. I’m counting on you now, Kip. Don’t let me down.”

They smiled at each other, but Kip thought,
Don’t let you down
? Don’t make me laugh. All boys let
me
down.

If I organized a waltz, you wouldn’t be there.

And Mike would vanish quicker than a tan in winter.

M
ATT O’CONNOR WAS BURNING
with fury and confusion.

Who was this boy he had never heard of, never seen, and yet was a close enough friend for Matt’s girl to go to him instead of waiting for Matt?

Emily’s family caved in, her parents tried to strike her, her home vanished—and she had
somebody else
to go with?

Go where?

He was the one with tickets to the Last Dance.

He was the one who had picked out that green dress.

Look at that car, just look at it! That was the car of a show-off with money. A handsome guy, too. Kept turning to smile at Emily. He liked Emily. Why would he like Emily unless he had a lot of encouragement?

Matt could not think straight.

He was sure he was Emily’s first and only boyfriend.

He was sure the only other boys in her life just happened to sit near her in school.

But he was wrong.

Here was someone his own age that she turned to without waiting for him to come.

You knew I would come! he thought. You knew I would never abandon you! But half an hour later you’re in somebody else’s car, getting comfort from somebody else. And he’s doing a great job, it looks like. You don’t miss me. Look at you, all snuggly in that bucket seat.

Jealousy, an emotion Matt O’Connor had never experienced and never known he was capable of, made him so angry he wanted to drive right into the rear end of that sports car. Smash through the bumper, smash through the chrome. He followed them. They were much too absorbed in each other to look behind even once.

“Only one person at the Last Dance hates chocolate,” Pammy read out loud. “Okay!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Admit it, whoever you are! Who here hates chocolate? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

Her date Jimmy said, “Ssssshh, Pammy. If they yell out the answer, then everybody knows. The point is to win the VCR and we don’t want everybody to know.”

“But this is important,” Pammy said. “I mean, chocolate is my life. Next to you, of course, Jimmy. I need to know what weirdo in this room doesn’t love chocolate.”

Pammy and Jimmy were the classic couple: they lived in the same condo, and had been going to school on the same bus since kindergarten, and dating since seventh grade. Pammy was petite and sharp angled and quick, darting here and there. Jimmy was pudgy and slow and funny and always seemed a little confused. They adored each other.