Saturday Night (27 page)

He decided not to take exit 67, which would take him through four traffic lights on the way to her house, but exit 66, so that he could cut through the industrial park and on up to her house the other way.

Matt swung left, then right, and thought about Emily living with them. He really could not imagine such a thing. The whole idea of a girl in his house—other than his mother—was something he could not even get a grip on. On the other hand—Emily living with her mother was impossible, because Mrs. Edmundson didn’t even like Emily. Matt always felt that Mrs. Edmundson had had someone else in mind entirely when she gave birth to that baby girl and felt cheated that the girl was Emily.

Matt didn’t feel cheated.

He adored Emily.

He thought once Mr. Edmundson calmed down, Emily should live with him. Emily’s dad was an okay person as long as Emily’s mother wasn’t around. He could be funny and affectionate. It was just that the last several months had been such hell for them that the funniness and love were submerged in the separation fights.

Matt thought he would convince Emily to go back to her father’s place after the dance, and he was pretty sure he could talk Mr. Edmundson into this, too.

Now the problem was to locate her.

Matt turned down North Street. Only a few blocks to go.

It was Christopher Vann.

Few people had made bigger fools of themselves than Christopher had at last autumn’s big dance when he went with Molly. He’d gotten so drunk he got into a fight with the band and had to be forcibly removed by the police. Emily and Matt had gotten to the dance very late and missed the entire scene, but of course they had heard every detail over and over from Kip and Mike, Beth Rose and Gary. Everybody thought it served Molly right, but not many people stopped to wonder about Christopher.

Christopher had been a shining star when he graduated and went on to an Ivy League school, but something happened between Westerly and college. Nobody really knew what, because Christopher confided in nobody and went out with girls who wouldn’t care what his problems might be as long as he paid for the evening and the evening was fun.

Emily barely knew him: he was two years older than she, and when he was a junior, she was a freshman and definitely in her prime wallflower years. When she was in ninth grade, had she spoken aloud even once to a boy? Ninth grade had been a little like having her jaw wired: when she saw boys, Emily’s mouth clamped shut and neither words nor smiles came out.

So turning to see who was speaking to her, she was amazed to see Christopher at all and terribly pleased that he knew her name and had recognized her. Christopher had lost that extra weight he’d been carrying the fall before and was looking very tan and fit again. “Why, Christopher,” she said, “you look great! How are you? I’m so glad to see you.”

“What are you doing wandering around Maplewood?” Christopher asked, laughing a little. He had a sophisticated smile—not at all like Matt’s goofy grin.

“Just taking a walk,” she said. She could not decide what to tell Christopher, if anything. “You’re so tan for mid-June, Christopher! What are you doing these days?” she managed to say.

“I’m the lifeguard at the pool at Rushing River Inn. It’s a great job. I just sit there and soak up the sun. Every now and then I teach a little swimming to some kids. Nothing ever happens. I listen to a lot of radio.” Emily did not know that her breathless tension looked to Christopher like a girl panting to be in his arms. She did not understand the grin that was sliding over his lips and the thoughts that he was having.

“And next fall?” said Emily.

“Next fall, I’m going to Central State,” he said. Emily was glad that somebody’s life was working out after all. It did not occur to her that Christopher might be bitter about going to an ordinary school or about having lost a year.

His smile was so smooth. It reassured her. Maplewood Lane was a road for happy families: you could tell by the shady trees and the neat trim around the white houses and the wonderful smell of steak being barbecued a few houses away. Emily didn’t stop to think that her own street looked and smelled exactly the same.

Maplewood Lane seemed to Emily a sign that all would be well before long. The sun had not yet set, the air was warm, her parents would calm down, and Matt would show up.

Resting on these hopes, Emily said, “Actually, I’m halfway running away from home.”

Emily tended to believe that other people were trustworthy. She tended to think that a nice smile meant a nice person, and that someone who had problems of his own would understand and care about hers. She said, “Oh, Christopher, it’s my parents. I love my father, but he’s been so awful lately because he’s so mad at my mother, and now she’s moving out, which is a blessing, but she says I have to live with her or she’ll never speak to me again, and my father said if I even go with her for a minute I can’t live with him either, and I…I just ran off.” At the last minute she did not confide that her mother and father both had been ready to smack her. The vision came back, horrifying her all over again, and she thought, Matt, oh, Matt, come for me! The sick feeling hit her stomach again, and Emily put a hand over her mouth, feeling nauseated.

“Great dress to run in,” Christopher observed, taking a fold of the material between his fingers. “I love these little silver knots!” He released the skirt, with its excess fabric, and ran his fingers very lightly over the knots of silver thread. He followed the seam of the dress up the sides and over to the silver heart necklace with its short silver chain. “You planning to camp out here on Maplewood in this dress?”

Emily stepped back. She could not deal with this on top of all her other problems. She wanted to step farther back, but it seemed rude.

Christopher’s smile stayed just the same, as if he were a photograph and not a person.” And practical running shoes, too, Emily. I admire your choice.”

Imagine being nervous of somebody I know perfectly well when we’re standing in the front yard on Maplewood Lane, and ten other houses are watching us. I just don’t have enough experience, she thought. “I’m on my way to a dance,” she explained, forgetting that she did not know Christopher perfectly well—she did not know him at all.

Christopher tilted his head. “Without a man in your life? Allow me.”

Emily struggled to paste a smile on her face to show him it was nice of him to be gallant. “Well, my boyfriend was coming for me, but my mother hung up on him, and if he does drive down, here, he won’t know where to find me, and I’m not really sure what to do.” She took a breath before asking if she could make a toll call on his phone, and Christopher said, “So where’s the dance? At the high school again?” Christopher shook his head slightly. “I was a little out of it that time, but as I recall the theme was pumpkins. I laughed so hard.”

Emily said uncomfortably, “Actually the dance is at Rushing River Inn.”

“No kidding?” Christopher took her arm and guided her toward his front door.

“If I could use your phone and call the O’Connors,” Emily said hesitantly, “then I could probably straighten this out.”

“Nah, I’ll just take you there. He’ll show up. Don’t worry. Just let me get my license and my car keys. You think I’m dressed up enough for a dance?”

Christopher—asking if he was dressed up enough? Although he certainly did look good in a shirt and jeans, most of the boys would wear a jacket and tie. But he’ll only be dropping me off, she thought, so what difference does it make? She said, “Christopher, if I could just use your phone? And if you don’t mind, the bathroom, too—I—um—it’s been—”

But Christopher did not head for the door to his house. He opened the car door instead. It was a beautiful scarlet sports car and even as he led her to it he smiled at the car, adoring it, and himself in it. Emily wanted to rip her arm free and race across the grass and—

What is the matter with me? Emily thought. Am I such a jerk that the only solution I have to anything is racing around backyards? I cannot spend my whole life coping by running away!

Her stomach hurt so much now she felt as if they should go to the clinic, not the dance.

“I love to crash parties,” Christopher said, with the same smooth smile. “You’ll be my ticket, Emily.” And he linked his arm in hers, securely, like a chain.

It was not that Anne needed anything, it was just the female habit of checking to be sure her purse was where she had left it.” What’s the matter? Con asked, watching her.

“My purse. It’s gone.”

“Got to be right there,” Con said.

“It isn’t. Con, I know I set it on this chair.”

“You must not have,” Con said tiredly. “Because the chair is empty.”

“Which purse was it?” Beth Rose asked. “That big white straw one?”

“No. The big pink leather bag.” Anne kept turning, as if the purse must be lying at an angle to her vision, and if she just found the right place to stand, she would spot it. Molly hid a grin.

“What did you bring it for anyway?” Con asked irritably. “You never need any of that stuff you’re always hauling around.”

Molly loved how everybody reacted on cue. Even Gary, who usually leaped to help any damsel in distress, didn’t leap this time. Beth Rose, if she carried a purse at all, carried tiny cloth ones on long shoulder straps so that the purse dangled, hardly noticed. Tonight Beth Rose had a tiny clutch bag in silver fabric with sparkles. Molly saw how Gary looked with satisfaction at his girlfriend, who didn’t lug suitcases around and then lose them and embarrass him.

Beth Rose said, “Well, maybe you left it in the car, Anne. Con, why don’t you go look in the car for her?”

Con glared at Beth Rose and then controlled himself and said, “I don’t think she—”

“I didn’t leave it in the car. I distinctly remember putting it on the chair,” Anne said. “Somebody must have taken it.”

Con heaved a sigh. An enormous sigh, out of all proportion to the problem. A sigh that implied that Peace in the Middle East rested upon Con’s shoulders. Now Beth Rose glared at Con, and Gary muttered to Beth Rose to take it easy, and Mike looked at the sunset and whispered to himself alone, “Girls.”

Molly was happy.

The pool was shaped in an L, with the smaller end very shallow for kids to wade in safely. Along one side were beds of flowers, mostly scarlet geraniums, with a very narrow strip of cement between them and the pool to prevent leaves and mulch from actually getting in the water.

It was hot outdoors, but nothing really had started indoors. Nobody felt like dancing, mostly because nobody else had started dancing, and nobody felt like eating, because they weren’t hungry yet, and half the girls were on diets anyway. They held their questionnaires and didn’t ask anybody anything, because it just seemed dumb, and faked. So they wandered out of doors and made a few remarks about how lovely Mount Snow was, and then they wandered down near the pool and gazed at the water and wished they were in bathing suits instead of dancing clothes, so they could go swimming and cool off.

Mr. Martin, who was an assistant manager of the resort, was a big bearded man with an enormous belly. He was wearing a very nice suit with a bright paisley vest and a solid color tie that picked up the gaudiest color in the paisley vest. Indoors, with the air-conditioning, he was very comfortable. Outdoors, in the heat, he began perspiring by the bucketful and became crabby.

“Lee!” he yelled at one of his waiters.

Lee was seventeen, and had graduated that very Saturday afternoon from Lynnwood High. All sensible Lynnwood High grads were off partying in Lynnwood this very minute, but Lee unfortunately had to work. Lee was not in a good mood, and all these happy Westerly kids made him very, very irritable. He didn’t think much of Westerly anyhow, especially since Westerly had beaten Lynnwood in every single sport Lee was in this year: wrestling, track, and tennis. It was Lee’s belief that Westerly boys paid off the referees. He had just learned, moreover, that his roommate for freshman year at Central State was going to be a Westerly person. He kept looking at this bunch, at their old “Last Dance” and wondering which of these dorks was going to live with him. He had read over their little quiz and seriously considered adding the question, “Which one of you will be Lee Hamilton’s roommate, and are you worthy of this honor?” but he knew Mr. Martin would kill him, which did not seem an auspicious way to begin his summer.

“Yes, Mr. Martin?” he said.

“Lee, go down to the swimming pool and tell those kids the pool is off limits for them tonight. They reserved the ballroom, the screened verandah, and the terrace and that’s that. The swimming pool is for overnight guests and anyway, we don’t have a lifeguard on tonight, so nobody can be down there. Keep those teenagers up here where they belong. That’s your job, Lee; don’t screw up.”

Lee rather liked the idea of yelling at Westerly kids. He stomped down the gravel path and immediately recognized Gary Anthony, who had trounced him in every wrestling match they had ever had. Great, Lee thought. “Okay, everybody,” he said loudly, trying to sound like Authority, “the pool is off limits, and I’ve got to ask you to stay up on the terrace if you want to be outdoors.”

The “everybody” he addressed did not even look his way.

Lee raised his voice and repeated the order.

The only thing that happened was that a girl in a very short purple dress asked him if he had been born on an ocean liner. Lee stared at her. She grinned right back, very flirty, and said, “Come on, now, cooperate, I want to win the VCR, don’t you? I don’t even recognize you! You must not be a junior, huh? Where’s your quiz? Have you gotten any answers yet?”

Lee said, “I’m a waiter.”

The girl laughed. “No, really, do you have any answers?”

Lee said, “Just that you’re not supposed to be down at the pool. You want to help me round up all your friends and herd them toward the terrace?”

The girl laughed again. She said, “No, really, tell me.”

Lee hoped for the sake of Westerly High that this girl did not represent the typical I.Q. He walked around her and aimed for Gary. He figured if he could get Gary headed for the terrace, maybe he could get the rest of them.