The Dance (16 page)

Jessica had taken her pictures and stowed her camera when she spotted Michael slipping away from the jubilant crowd out the corner doorway. She jumped after him, but had a few hundred people in her way, and didn’t catch him until he was far down a black empty covered walkway outdoors. He didn’t stop to see who was following him until she called his name.

“Hi, Jessie,” he said pleasantly, turning. “Great game, wasn’t it?”

“It was fantastic. But I wish you could have played.”

“I’m busy enough these days. Going to change for the dance now?”

“Yeah, I have this long yellow dress I bought.” She forced a laugh. “I’ll probably be tripping over it all night.”

“Yellow suits you. I’m sure you’ll look very beautiful.”

She wished she could see his face better, see if he was just being polite, or if she really was beautiful to him. She needed courage. There was so much she wanted to say. “You’re coming, aren’t you?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m not much of a dancer. And I have work to do.”

That must mean he was leaving the campus. Yet he had not been walking toward the parking lot. Her heart was breaking. More than anything, she had wanted to dance with him. “But you can’t work on a night like this. It can’t be that important?”

“To me it is.” He paused. “Did you call and get your SAT scores?”

“Not yet,” she lied. And one lie always led to another, and suddenly she realized she didn’t have the strength to confess how weak she was, or how strong she could be if he would come with her.

“Let’s hope for the best,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He touched her arm. “It’s cold out here. You’d better get inside.” He smiled. “Have lots of fun for me.”

She nodded sadly. “I will.” Letting go of her arm, he turned and walked away.

“Michael?” she called.

He stopped. “Yeah?”

I would love to love you.

“Nothing,” she said, knowing as she watched him walk away that the moment had come and gone. Gone for good.

As planned, the four girls—Maria, Jessica, Sara, and Polly—met in room HB-22 to dress for the dance. A number of rooms had been unlocked for girls to change in. The game had ended at eight and Sara had already warned the student body via an announcement in homeroom that morning that no one would be allowed into the tent before nine. Parents of the girls on the court, the announcement had further stated, would be welcome to stop by at ten-thirty for the crowning. Sara’s own mother had wanted to come to the dance but Sara had told her not to dare. She hadn’t been getting along with her parents since Russ had moved in. They were probably worried he was having sex with her in the middle of the night. But so far, she’d had no such luck.

“How do I look?” Jessica asked, a yellow ribbon in her hair to match her yellow gown.

“Wonderful,” Maria said, excited, wearing a relatively plain white dress, no ribbon.

“Great,” Polly said, still in the clothes she had worn to the game and showing no signs of getting out of them.

“You look like Jessie dressed up,” Sara said, thinking that it was Jessica’s night, that no one was going to touch her. She glanced down at her own orange dress, which had squeezed her father’s credit card for a tidy two hundred and sixteen dollars plus tax. “How about me?”

“Real pretty,” Maria said.

“Pretty as a pumpkin pie before you put it in the oven,” Jessica said.

“Shut up,” Sara said.

They finished with their makeup, gave up trying to convince Polly to go home and put on something nice, and tumbled out of the room for the tent.

“Maria, Jessie,” Sara said as they walked down the outside walkway, freezing to death without their sweaters, Polly struggling to keep up with her bad foot. “Check on the band and the servers for me. I want to take Polly and have a look at the float.”

“What exactly are we checking with them about?” Jessica asked.

“It doesn’t matter. That they’re ready. Just talk to them, Jessie.”

They split up when they reached the tent, Jessica and Maria disappearing inside. By this time Polly was really dragging. Sara felt a twinge of guilt that she’d swiped Russ from the McCoy mansion when Polly wasn’t looking. Yet Polly appeared unconcerned about Russ’s whereabouts and determined to enjoy the night.

A number of students were milling around outside the tent as Sara and Polly circled to the back. Several called out to Sara complaining about the cold and asking why she didn’t let them in.

“Go wait in the gym,” she said. “And quit hassling me.”

The float surpassed Sara’s expectations. That Tony Foulton had some imagination. Although she had given him a general idea of what she wanted—“a castle look to go with our queen and princesses”—it was very much his creation. A blue-carnation moat circled the entire float. Lying across the front was a fake drawbridge—a wide sheet of board, cleverly painted with black and gray strips to resemble whatever it was drawbridges were supposed to be made of. In the center of the drawbridge stood the microphone. The plan was for Sara to announce the new queen after receiving the sealed envelope from Mr. Bark, who would emerge from inside the castle proper. It was a fond dream of Sara’s that he would hand her the envelope and not feel compelled to make a speech. Last year’s homecoming queen had flown in special for the occasion from an Ivy League college back east. The latest word, however, had her at home sick from a crash fast she had undertaken to lose the forty pounds she needed to lose to fit into the dress she had worn when she had been elected queen. On top of everything else, Sara would now be doing the actual crowning.

The castle had four battlement towers, all at the front, interconnected by a plank that would be invisible to the audience. They were approximately five feet higher than the moat, decorated primarily with chrysanthemums, each a different color: gold, red, green, yellow. Four towers for four princesses.

At the back, inside the castle walls—another six feet higher than the battlement towers—stood the queen’s throne. Whoever had her name in the envelope would ascend a hidden ladder behind the castle after the announcement and take up her rightful seat. (Sara had swiped the chair from her own living room.) With the lights flashing and the band playing, Sara thought they could do the MTV video she had stolen the concept from one better.

“This thing isn’t going to fall over?” Sara asked Polly.

“It’s possible,” Polly said. “Anything is possible.”

“Swell,” Sara said. Yet she trusted Tony’s skill.

Kats appeared from beneath the float. Bubba had explained to Sara that Kats bore Tabb High a measure Of resentment for the way everybody had treated him while he had been in high school. Playing an essential role in the homecoming festivities, Bubba had thought, would help dispel the resentment. Sara would have preferred a driver who had a positive outlook, but she had decided to be diplomatic about the issue, hoping Bubba would forget the sex contingency he had tied to his assistance. She still didn’t know what was going on with the money she had given him.

“It’s dark in there,” Kats said.

“Will you be able to see where you’re going?” Sara asked.

Kats pointed to Polly. “Hey, Alice was your sister, right?”

Polly lowered her head. “Yes.”

“I asked you a question?” Sara said, annoyed at his lack of tact.

Kats grinned. “I’ll take care of you ladies, never fear.”

They left Kats and slipped inside through the folds in the tent. The band was already on the stage. The food, the glasses, the plates, the silverware—everything was laid out. Ringing the entire canvas dance floor were four dozen electric heaters, glowing orange and warm. The temperature inside the tent was variable, with drafts and cold spots, but Sara believed it would even out when all the people were crammed together.

Polly collapsed into a seat near the punch. Jessica came up to Sara. “They’re beginning to jam up outside,” she said.

Sara glanced at her watch. “It’s fifteen minutes early. Oh, what the hell, let’s strike up the band and let them in.”

“But you don’t have anyone stationed to collect tickets.”

Sara realized Jessica was right. She had forgotten all about that. “Let them all in.” She laughed. “Who cares? Let’s party.”

Michael had gone through nineteen files and was initiating a search on the twentieth when he began to believe he was wasting his time. So far, the name McCoy had not rung a bell with any of ARC’s records.

He could hear the music from the dance, the laughter and jeers of people having fun. He tried to remember when he’d last had a good time through a whole night, and couldn’t. He would’ve liked to have seen Jessica in her yellow dress. Michael started the search on the file and got up and walked about the room, stretching. Half the overhead fluorescent lights had died moments after he returned to the computer room at the end of the game. His eyes were aching from staring at the bright green CRT letters and numbers. Earlier in the day, someone must have spilt something in the biology room next door. There was a foul smell in the air. He felt vaguely claustrophobic, as if he were being forced to labor in a morgue.

Now that it had come down to it, he almost hoped he didn’t find the autopsy report. He felt as if he were trying to dig up Alice’s body.

Are these the days everyone says we’ll remember as the happiest days of our lives?
Jessica wondered.
God.

Bill had just brought her a drink. Jessica wished he had brought her a real drink. Something to numb the pain. Yet she really shouldn’t have been drinking at all. As it was, shaking from nerves over the upcoming announcement, she was running to the bathroom in the gym every twenty minutes to pee. And her stomach was upset. She had tried to eat something, thinking it would help, but had accidentally bitten her tongue, soaking her mouthful of chicken sandwich with blood and grossing out her stomach further. Luckily, Bill had not tried to kiss her so far. She imagined she wouldn’t taste very good.

“How’s your drink?” Bill asked.

Jessica sipped it without enthusiasm. “Great.”

They were standing with a group of football players and their girlfriends at the edge of the dance floor not far from the band. The music was excellent: present-day pop and sixties rock classics. But the volume was way too high; it was giving her a headache. Bill and she had danced once, to “Surfer Girl,” slow and close. In his dark blue suit, his blond hair short and clean, he had to be the cutest guy under the tent. He’d put his arms around her and held her to his chest, where she found herself living a fantasy from the early days of the school year, but which now brought her no pleasure.

“Having a good time?” Bill asked.

Jessica smiled. “Super.”

It was a night of firsts for Nick. He had never been a hero before, or a boyfriend. Now he was both, and although he couldn’t say which brought him more satisfaction, he hoped he was to enjoy the two roles for a long time.

Like Maria in his arms, the music was soft as they slowly danced over the dimly lit floor. He had never danced before, either, but he had been delighted to find it a lot easier than attempting to shoot a basketball with three guys hanging on to him. The feeling of warmth where Maria’s body touched his was flowing straight to his brain, sending his blood and thoughts swimming. His only concern was that she was getting a crick in her neck trying to look up at him.

“I can’t believe my father went off with your parents,” Nick said, his big hands resting on top of her black hair.

“He’s usually not very sociable?”

“Sort of. He hates almost everybody.”

Maria chuckled. “Does he speak much Spanish?”

“Some. Do your parents speak much English?”

“A little.” Maria smiled up at him. “They’ll be all right. They have things in common.”

“Basketball?”

“Us.”

“Oh.” He liked the sound of that little word. It gave him confidence. Yet, remembering she was an illegal alien, he hesitated before asking his next question. “So, Maria, you no longer feel afraid to be seen by people?”

She chuckled again. “I haven’t been wearing a bag over my head at school.” Then she was serious. “I have Jessica to thank for tonight. She told me to bring my parents to the game. She’s the one who put my name on the homecoming-court ballot.”

“I feel the same way about Mike. He forced me to go out for the team.” Nick laughed. “He forced me to ask you out on our date.”

Maria stepped back and lightly socked him, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer and they went right on dancing. He rested his chin atop her head. “Are you worried about winning tonight?” he asked after a while.

She poked his chest with her nose. “I’ve already won.”

Not long after Maria socked Nick, Russ tried to kiss Sara in the middle of a dance. Sara held her head back.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “You kissed me the other night?”

“There’re people here.” She glanced to the chair on the other side of the floor where Polly had sat the whole night, Alice’s sketch pad balanced on her knees, drawing. Sara had brought her some punch a half hour ago and glanced at her work, a rather poor—though elaborate—drawing of the float and the four princesses. Sara had not known what Polly was trying to say by putting a big clock about to strike twelve on the front of the queen’s tower.

Does she think all the princesses are going to turn into pumpkins?

“So?” Russ said, annoyed.

“So, I’m ASB president, I can’t be seen kissing a boy in front of everybody like an ordinary girl.”

“If you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll fondle your breasts in front of everybody.”

Why doesn’t he get urges like this when we’re alone?

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“No?”

He went to grab her chest with both his paws. She jumped back and scurried past him.

“Excuse me, Russ, I’ve got to go beat the bank.”

She had spotted Bubba, alone, taking a break from tearing up the floor on every song with Clair. One thing you had to hand Clair, she didn’t give a hoot—unlike Jessica—about being seen with a fashionable guy. Personally, Sara thought Jessica would have done a lot better with Michael Olson instead of Bill Skater. You could talk to Michael. From watching Bill in political science, Sara had decided he was essentially a blank sheet.

“Where’s the money?” she asked, tapping Bubba on the shoulder. He turned to face her, smiling serenely, alcohol on his breath. Obviously he had brought his own private punch.

“Where’s your body?” he asked.

“Why is it that all of a sudden everyone wants my body?”

“Did you sell it to someone else?”

She glared. “That isn’t funny. Do you have the money to pay for this dance or not? And don’t give me any BS.”

“Why the harsh tone?” Bubba gestured to the rest of the tent. “None of this would have been possible without my assistance. Look about you and be grateful.”

Sara had to admit he was right; the dance was a stunning success. Three-quarters of the student body must have come, as opposed to last year’s homecoming when less than three hundred tickets had been sold. The music, the food, the colorful ribbons and ornaments hanging across the tent—everything was perfect. Everybody seemed to be having a great time. Already tonight, she’d been stopped a dozen times and congratulated on what a fantastic job she’d done.

But he’s still trying to screw me.

“It is I who should be disappointed with you,” Bubba continued, leaning closer. “I’ve done all this and received nothing in return. But, I must say, you do seem in a frisky mood tonight, Sara, dear. Why don’t we get together at my place after I drop—”

“Can it. You’ve done nothing for me. I spoke to the caterer and the band. They say we still owe them half their money.”

“Then repay me fifty percent tonight. You know what really turns me on and doesn’t take a lot of time? Later, in my bedroom, if you could take off your dress and—”

“Stop it! Where’s the money?”

Bubba belched. “I lost it.”

“You lost it!” she screamed. People—probably more than would have bothered to look had Russ actually succeeded in fondling her breasts—turned their heads. “How could you lose it?” she hissed.

He shrugged. “Money comes and goes, just like girls and bad weather. It’s the way of things.”

It was a frightening thing, feeling this close to wanting to murder someone. “If you lost it all, how did you pay for any of this?” she demanded.

“Oh, I had to borrow some more.”

“From who?”

“Friends of the family.”

She had heard rumors about his family. “Are you talking about loan sharks?”

“Shh. They don’t like that word. Never use it around them. They might get angry.”

She grabbed him by his bright green tie. “You don’t know the meaning of the word
angry
! I am not going to pay loan-shark interest rates on a loan you had no right to take out!”

He laughed. “You sure are a spunky little girl.”

She yanked on the tie, choking him. “I mean it!”

He calmly reached up and removed her hand, straightening his tie and the green hat on his fat head. “I’m afraid you have no choice, Sara. I told you at the beginning, I’m not going to bring my own personal funds into this matter. But don’t despair. I borrowed enough to make the first couple of payments. And it’s six months till June, a long time before you’ll need big money for another big event. I’ll think of something between now and then.” He added slyly, “If you’re nice to me, that is.”

She sneered, absolutely disgusted. “I hate you.”

He beamed. “Not as much as I love you, Sara.”

Stalking back to Russ, she was apprehended by Mr. Bark. He wanted her to gather the princesses outside behind the float. It was time to crown the queen.