The Dance (17 page)

If it had been cold outside before, it was freezing now. Jessica didn’t know if she could stand to wait any longer in her short sleeves with the other girls on the basketball courts. A wind had begun to blow; it kept picking at the hem of her dress, sending goose-flesh up her legs. Maria was the only smart one among them. She had on Nick’s jacket, and on Maria it was as good as a full-length coat.

“Won’t the truck under the float start?” Maria asked.

Sara had raved to Jessica about how neat the float was, but looking at it waiting in the dark fifty yards off the rear of the tent, its numerous towers reminding her more of an obstacle course than a castle, Jessica wished the announcement were taking place on stage in front of the band. What a joke; Sara was always calling her a snob, and here Sara had obviously put together this float solely for the purpose of being remembered as the greatest president Tabb High had ever had.

“It starts fine; it just keeps stalling,” Jessica said. She could hear Kats and Sara arguing inside. It seemed Sara had rigged a hose to the exhaust tail of the truck so the fumes could be tunneled away from the float. Kats wanted the hose removed. The fumes kept backing up inside the tail pipe, he said, and were choking the engine.

“Do what he says and let’s get this thing over with,” Clair called out, standing near the front of the float with Cindy Fosmeyer. Clair had selected blue for the color of her gown, but even if she’d chosen bright stripes and polka dots, Jessica thought, she still would have been beautiful. But Jessica was finding it difficult to understand how Cindy Fosmeyer had been selected to the court. The girl had lost several pounds in the past week—perhaps as much as half a pound directly off her massive chest—but her large nose had not shrunk in the interim and the ton of makeup she had chosen to plaster over her face had failed to bury it. It was a sad fact, but a fact nevertheless: Cindy was a dog.

After a few more encouraging remarks from Clair—each one containing a few more cuss words—Sara finally relented and did what Kats wanted. She re-moved the hose, but muttered that they had better hold their breath for the duration of the ride into the tent.

Mr. Bark appeared. An envelope in his right hand, he crouched down behind the queen’s castle, while Sara stationed herself inside the moat up front. Clair and Cindy got onto the battle towers on the left. Jessica was the last one up, taking the tower on the far right—facing the float—off to Maria’s left. Beneath them, Kats turned over the truck’s engine.

“Go slow,” Sara called down to Kats, who was invisible beneath their feet. Sara raised a walkie-talkie to her mouth. “We’re coming,” she said, telling whoever it was inside to start the music and raise the curtains.

What followed next irritated Jessica’s finer sensibilities, yet at the same time gave her a big rush. In reality, she was as much a sap for flash and glitter as the next teenage girl.

The float rocked forward. In front, the tent walls began to part, slowly revealing row upon row of couples waiting within a spell of pulsing synthesized rhythms and whirling strobe lights, looking like a futuristic gang of kids partying aboard a huge spaceship.

They passed beneath the ceiling of the tent. A searchlight caught the tip of the float. The true colors of the castle flooded Jessica’s eyes, dazzling her. The searchlight rolled over her face and practically blinded her. She could smell the fumes Sara had spoken of, could hear the eerie sci-fi music. But the next thing she actually saw was the float swaying—as Kats brought it to a halt—and Sara stepping up to the microphone.

Heavy stuff.

Kats shut off the truck. The canvas closed at their back, and the temperature leaped into the comfort zone.

“Having a good time?” Sara asked to the crowd, getting an immediate earsplitting “Yeah!”

“That’s good, that’s great,” she went on. “I know it’s been a while since I last spoke to all of you at once. And there’s something I said that day I’d like to take back. Getting ready for this dance with the help of the whole ASB council, I’ve learned a high school really does need class officers. I’ve also discovered that you’d have to be out of your mind to want to be one.” The audience laughed and Sara continued smoothly. “But let’s get down to business. Let’s crown our new queen. I’ll start by introducing the members of the court.” Sara gestured to her right. “Over here, at a hundred and ten pounds and undefeated in all her previous fights, we have blond and blue-eyed Clair Hilrey!”

Clair—much to Jessica’s displeasure—accepted the silly introduction by raising both her arms high like a prizefighter, showing everyone that—besides being able to take a joke—she had the best body on the float. The audience loved it.

Her reputation sure has bounced back.

“Ooh, baby!” Bubba’s voice wailed from somewhere at the rear.

“Next,” Sara said. “Beloved of the entire male population of Tabb High for her forward-reaching expression and her twin mounds of feminine excellence—Cindy Fosmeyer!”

I cannot believe she said that.

Cindy didn’t seem to mind the compliments, no doubt because she didn’t understand them. Politely applauding, Jessica wondered what Sara would say about her. But not half so much as she wondered what name was written in the envelope Mr. Bark carried.

Sara nodded to her left. “And now we come to the smallest girl in the group. Small in size, but big in heart. Ladies and gentlemen, Maria Gonzales!”

The applause for Maria was warm but lacked the enthusiasm the previous two girls had enjoyed; understandable, since Maria was all but unknown on campus outside a tiny circle of friends. Her election to the court made less sense than Cindy’s.

The applause died down. Sara grinned wickedly. Jessica lowered her head and began to squirm, feeling sweat forming beneath the layer of deodorant she had rolled on earlier. Sara had just better remember, she swore to herself, that they were best friends.

Oh, no.

“As most of you know,” Sara began, “Our final princess and I have been best friends for many years. Now I know somebody out there must be asking him or herself the question: 'can we trust good old Sara to read out anybody’s name but that of her best friend?’” Sara paused, then giggled. “We’ll see, won’t we?” She spread out her left arm. “Wish Jessica Hart lots of luck, folks!”

Her heart pounding so hard it was close to skipping, Jessica rated her applause the loudest of the lot.

I’m in. It’s me. It’s got to be me!

“The envelope, please,” Sara said, turning to welcome Mr. Bark as he emerged from behind the queen’s tower. The chatter in the audience halted. Jessica raised her head. Sara took the envelope from Mr. Bark—snatched it from him actually—and quickly began to tear it open. Before she could finish, however, Mr. Bark wedged himself between her and the microphone.

“If I may say a few words before the crowning,” Mr. Bark began.

“Damn,” Sara mumbled under her breath—soft enough so that no one in the crowd seemed to hear—trying to get the slip of paper out of the envelope while trying to maintain her position behind the mike. Mr. Bark gave her an uncertain glance before continuing.

“I am happy so many of you were able to make it tonight,” he said, stretching his head in front of Sara’s face. “Homecoming is an important event, not only as a social occasion, but as a time to reflect upon our bigger home, the world we live in. It is a beautiful world but a fragile one. At any instant, on either side of the ocean, a button could be pushed and—”

“How many here are against nuclear war?” Sara suddenly broke in, raising her hand holding the torn envelope. The whole assembly threw their fists into the air and cheered. “Wow, we’re convinced!” she exclaimed. “We’ll have the petition at the door, and no one leaves here tonight without signing it. A big hand for Mr. Bark, please! Thank you!”

More clapping. Mr. Bark scowled down at Sara, and she smiled up at him. He must have realized he had nowhere to go with his speech now that she had stolen his thunder. He climbed down from the float.

The silence settled again upon the audience, quicker this time, and deeper. Sara, alone behind the microphone—a beam of light bright on her orange dress—finished opening the envelope and took out the slip of paper. Jessica did not have on her glasses, naturally, and therefore did not have a clear view of Sara’s face. Yet Sara was only a few feet away, and it seemed to Jessica she froze as she unfolded the tiny white paper. But only for an instant.

Jessica Hart! Way to go Jessie! Let’s hear it for Jessie!

Then Sara turned toward her, catching her eye. Beyond Sara, on the other side of the float, Clair leaned forward. The crowd waited. Everybody on the float waited.

Everybody—except Jessica. Because as Sara had looked at Jessica, Sara’s lower lip trembled slightly. Jessica saw it, and knew it was the one thing Sara did to show disappointment.

I can’t believe it. I lost.

Jessica lowered her head again, her hair covering her face. She didn’t see Sara turn back to the microphone, although she heard her clearly enough.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Tabb High’s new homecoming queen—Maria Gonzales!”

The rest was a blur for Jessica. Maria reached for her first, and Jessica hugged her. She kissed Maria, laughed and cried with her, telling herself she was happy for her. But she cried more than the occasion deserved.

Then the other princesses were congratulating Maria, and Sara was placing the crown on top of her head and wrapping the royal robe around her frail shoulders. Music played, lights flickered. The applause went on and on. Sara directed Maria toward the back of the float. Ascending the hidden ladder, a bouquet of red roses in her arms, Maria reached the top of the tower. There she stood radiant and tall.

But even the small have far to fall.

The thought flickered past the lowest edge of Jessica’s conscious mind, disappearing almost before she knew she’d had it.

Maria waved her flowers, wrapped safe in the audience’s adulation.

Clair leaned over and whispered to Jessica. “As long as it wasn’t you, dearie.”

“I feel the same way,” Jessica replied.

Michael had found the file; he had reached the cemetery. The computerized search was now leading him through data that clearly made up Dr. Gin Kawati’s autopsy reports. Her tombstone was close. Any second now, he knew, he would have to take up the shovel and dig. He was literally trembling with excitement, with horror. He glanced at his watch: a quarter after one. Alice had died just after one in the morning.

Michael stood and again paced the room, as he had done so many times during the course of the night. He no longer felt simply claustrophobic; he felt as if he were smothering. His eyes burned; he hated to think what he would look like in a mirror. Part of it was from exhaustion, but the stink from the biology room had continued to assault his senses all night. He had finally identified the smell—formaldehyde. But he had not gone to wipe it up. For some reason, he was afraid to leave the computer, afraid the information on the disc might suddenly vanish.

He hadn’t heard anything from the direction of the tent in the last hour. No music, no laughter. He was surprised Bubba had not dropped by after the dance to check on how the search was progressing. But Michael couldn’t blame him. Clair had probably invited him back to her place. Michael would have liked to have known who the new queen was. He hoped it was Jessica, although he realized that would make her even more unattainable.

He was about to return to his seat at the terminal when he became aware of an unusual sound outside. He paused, standing in the middle of the room, and listened. He thought someone must be knocking hard on a nearby door. Then he dismissed that possibility. Whoever it was would have had to have been knocking with a battering ram. The door—if that was what it was—sounded as if it were disintegrating.

Michael reached for the door to investigate further, A beep at his back stopped him. Turning, he saw the word
Found
flashing at the top of the computer screen. He jumped to his feet.

Subject: Alice McCoy. Age: 14. Coroner: Dr. Gin Kawati.

Forgetting all about the sound, Michael began to read.

The dance was history. The cleanup had begun. Jessica and Sara had changed from their gowns back into the clothes they had worn to the basketball game. Along with Maria, they were trying to undo in a couple of hours what had taken weeks to put together. It was a hopeless task. If the amount of fun had by all was proportional to the amount of mess they had made, then Sara’s place in Tabb’s history as the best ASB president was already secure.

Polly had hung around at first and tried to lend a hand, but watching her hop pathetically about with plates and glasses balanced in her arms, Jessica and Sara had sent her home. Maria was almost as useless. She had not changed out of her dress. She continued to float about beneath the deserted tent as if the crowds were still cheering her to the top of the float, a stoned smile on her lips.

All right, I’m envious. That doesn’t mean I’ll hate Maria from now on.

Jessica couldn’t figure out how the girl had won.

“I’m tired,” she complained, stuffing red ribbon in a green plastic trash bag and wiping the sweat from her eyes.

“You can’t quit,” Sara said, standing on a ladder above her. “This tent has to be ready to take down by tomorrow at noon or I’ll have to pay for another day’s rental.”

“Let them take it down the way it is,” Jessica said.

“Sure, right, and leave this pile of garbage out in the open where everybody can see it.”

“Ask me if I care, Sara.” Jessica threw down her bag. “I’ve had enough. I’m going to my locker, getting my books, and I’m not coming back.”

“Some friend you are.” Then Sara stopped, surveying the tons of junk. “Well, I guess you’re right. There is too much to do. Go home and rest.” She lowered her voice, nodded to the other side of the tent where Maria was gathering the carnations from the tables, smelling each one as if it were a gift from a boyfriend. “But on your way out, ask our little brown butterfly to give me a hand with the last of these ribbons.”

“Will do.”

Sara stared at her a moment. “You know, Jessie, you looked awful pretty tonight. It should have been you.”

Jessica smiled, touched. “Wasn’t in the cards, I guess.”

Maria hugged Jessica when she told her she was leaving.

“I owe all this to you,” Maria said, holding her tight.

“You did it yourself,” Jessica said, embarrassed by the twinge of jealousy that was still there.

Maria let go, shook her head. “I lived in a box until you came along. I never went out. I never talked to boys. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even know Nick.”

Jessica squeezed her arm. “We all get what we deserve, Maria. I really believe that.”

Except for Alice, our sweet Alice.

Jessica grabbed her coat and left.