I told him how much I liked his surprise—“about the best surprise I ever had,” I said—and he kissed me again.
I couldn’t stop grinning when I went back inside. I grinned at Dad and I grinned at Lester and I grinned all the way upstairs. Lester called, “Is the Cheshire cat happy now?”
“She’s happy,” I said.
But it wasn’t over yet. When I got home from school on Wednesday, there was a Priority Mail package from Aunt Sally sitting between the screen and the front door. It was addressed to me.
I took it inside and opened it. There was a small gray box tied with a white satin ribbon. Inside was an old gold locket on a thin gold chain. It took several tries to pry the locket open, but when I did, I discovered a small lock of reddish blond hair. I knew right away it must be my mother’s.
I stared down at the note Aunt Sally had written:
Dear Alice:
I’ve been waiting for the right time to send this to you. Your mother used to wear this locket as a teenager, with pictures of boyfriends inside. I snipped a lock of her hair at her funeral, and can’t think of a better way to give it to you than in her very own locket. As dear as this is to me, I think it will be even more precious to you. Happy Birthday.
Lovingly, Aunt Sally and Uncle Milt
I could hardly breathe as I sat on the couch, gently stroking the shiny lock of hair that was so like the color of my own. Here was a real part of my mother—an actual piece of herself. I felt that the locket was too precious to wear. Too valuable to touch, almost. As though I should put it in a vault at the bank to protect it always.
And then I realized that this wasn’t the most important part of her after all. I was a piece of my mother. And this piece should be out doing things, experiencing life! Exhibit A: Marie McKinley’s daughter.
“Thanks for my birthday, Mother,” I murmured, kissing her hair. “Thanks for bringing me into the world. I miss you… .”
11
THE DANCE
WE DIDN’T SEEM TO BE GETTING A LOT OF work done at school. They say that happens at the end of eighth grade. Most of the teachers realized that our minds were on the dance.
There were posters all over school advertising it, of course, and they made the same point: that every eighth grader was welcome. You didn’t have to be part of a couple. You could come in groups, you could come solo, it didn’t matter. JUST COME! the posters said.
Elizabeth and Pamela, Karen and Jill, and I spent a whole Sunday up in Elizabeth’s bedroom, trying different hairstyles and experimenting with makeup. I decided I was going to be part of the “in” group no matter how boring it was to me. Mrs. Price even said that Elizabeth could wear mascara for the dance, and with her long lashes, she looked like a movie star.
Mrs. Price also told Pamela and me that we could bring our gowns over there the night of the prom and get dressed. It was nice of her to say that, but at the same time, I felt so jealous of Elizabeth—that she had a mom to help out. I think maybe Pamela was feeling the same way. She had a mom too, except she wasn’t around. Mrs. Jones was off in Las Vegas doing who knows what with her gym instructor, but I’ll bet they weren’t jogging on his NordicTrack.
In gym I said to Lori, “You’re coming to the dance, aren’t you?”
And I was really pleased when she said yes. “My dad’s going to drive a bunch of us there,” she answered.
“Good,” I told her, and added, “I’ll be wearing your bracelet. It just matches my dress.”
Lori smiled back. “Good,” she said.
The dance was scheduled for Friday night. When I saw Patrick in the hall that morning, he waved and smiled, but I didn’t see him in the cafeteria or on the bus going home. I knew that Justin’s dad, Mr. Collier, was picking up the guys first, though, then coming for the girls. We were starting out an hour early so there would be time to put on corsages and take pictures.
Frankly, I was worried about Donald Sheavers. He’d always done such stupid things when we were out in public. I didn’t know why Pamela invited him to our semi-formal, except to make Brian or Mark jealous, maybe. But Donald … ? When I was in fourth grade, he and I used to play Tarzan together, and for years afterward, every time he saw me somewhere in public, he’d give the old Tarzan yell. It was so embarrassing.
I was too excited to eat much dinner. The dance was at eight, and they were going to have little sandwiches and things anyway, so I decided to take a shower, then carry my stuff over to Elizabeth’s to dress.
“Al,” Dad called, as I headed to the bathroom with my talcum and deodorant, “phone.”
I picked up the phone in the upstairs hall. It was Patrick.
“Alice?” he said, and his voice sounded strange. “Listen. I am really, really sorry, but I’m sick.”
I drew in my breath. “What?”
“I’m sick.”
“I saw you in school this morning!”
“I know, but I didn’t feel so great, and by noon I felt really awful. I’ve got this terrible sore throat and headache. Mom had to come get me, and drove me right to the doctor. He thinks it’s mononucleosis and took some tests. If it is, it’s really contagious.”
“Oh, Patrick!” I said. I wish I could honestly say I felt most sorry for him, but I think I was feeling most sorry for myself. “Then … then we can’t go to the dance?”
“Well, what I did was, I called Sam to see if he could take you. I mean, he could have the corsage I bought and everything.”
“You did what?”
“But he’s already asked someone. He’s taking somebody else.”
I felt as though the whole room were spinning. Patrick couldn’t go, he’d actually asked Sam to take me, Sam had asked someone else when he’d already asked me first …
“Listen, Alice,” Patrick said again, and I realized now how weak his voice sounded. He really was sick. “Dad’s on the way over right now with your corsage. You go anyway and have a good time.”
At least I had sense enough to say, “I’m sorry too, Patrick, and really hope you’re better soon. You must be miserable. It won’t be nearly as much fun without you.”
After I hung up, I stood leaning against the wall, holding my stomach. I wondered if I was going to cry or throw up. I didn’t do either.
Dad came halfway up the stairs. “Al?” he said. “Anything wrong?”
“What’s mononucleosis?” I asked, realizing for the first time that Patrick might have something serious.
“A very contagious disease, fairly common. Who’s got it? Patrick?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Oh, no!”
I swallowed. “I’m going anyway.”
“Good for you! That’s the spirit!”
I saw Mr. Long’s car pull up in front and went downstairs to meet him on the porch. He’s a tall man, a lot like Patrick, only his red hair has gray at the sides.
“Patrick is so sorry,” he said. “He feels awful.”
“He’ll get better, won’t he?” I asked, and realized I had walked out on the porch in my robe.
“Oh, I’m sure of it, but it’s terribly contagious at this stage. These things happen, and there’s not much we can do about them, but we wish it hadn’t happened right now.”
“I know,” I said. I thanked him for bringing the corsage. I took it back in the house, showered, put on my sweat suit, then picked up my dress and carried it across the street to Elizabeth’s.
Elizabeth was holding the door open for me so I could get my dress safely inside. Pamela was already there, and they both had their makeup on already and looked gorgeously grown-up. Then they saw my face.
“What’s the matter?”
“Patrick’s sick. I’m going solo.”
“Oh, Alice!” Elizabeth cried.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Pamela.
“Mononucleosis. It’s contagious.”
“The kissing disease!” Pamela said knowingly.
“What a shame, Alice!” said Elizabeth’s mom.
“And he’d bought your flowers and everything.”
I thought of what Aunt Sally in Chicago would say if I called her: When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade.
“Well, I’m going anyway,” I said again.
“Too bad Sam doesn’t know Patrick isn’t going,” Pamela said. “I’ll bet he’d jump at the chance to take you.”
“He knows. Patrick called and asked if he could take me, but Sam had already asked someone.”
“Patrick what? Is he crazy?” cried Pamela.
“He knows Sam likes me and thought maybe he’d take me.”
“I do not understand boys!” Elizabeth declared. “He’s … he’s just encouraging the competition. What if Sam had said yes? You could fall for Sam and …”
“I’ve got to get dressed,” I said, and went on upstairs with my stuff.
But the thought had crossed my mind too. Either Patrick was incredibly stupid, incredibly generous, or extraordinarily self-confident. Could I have been so generous if I’d been sick? Could I suggest Patrick take another girl to the dance? A girl who was crazy about him? I don’t think so.
We were all dressed and combed and made up at last, and were careful not to get near Nathan, who was drooling all over the place these days because he was teething.
Pamela was striking in her purple gown with the halter top and her long dangly earrings. Elizabeth looked something like Cinderella in her pink satin dress. And I looked like somebody’s bridesmaid in the jade green dress I wore for Crystal’s wedding, but I didn’t care, because it looked good on me. As a finishing touch, I put on the bracelet with the green stones that Lori had given me.
“That’s perfect,” said Pamela. “Where did you get it?”
“Lori gave it to me,” I said.
There was total silence in the room.
“Lori Haynes?”
“Yes. When I stayed overnight at her house. She just wanted me to have it.”
“Al-ice!” cried Elizabeth.
“You can’t wear that, especially tonight, going solo!” Pamela said. “Everyone will think—”
“Everyone will think that it is a beautiful bracelet. Nobody will suspect anything else unless someone starts a rumor that isn’t true, and if they do, I know I can count on you, as my two best friends, to set them straight,” I said.
Elizabeth and Pamela immediately rallied around.
“You can count on us, we’ll look after you,” Elizabeth said, and like two mother hens clucking over a chick, they fluffed my hair, polished my nails, and touched up my eyeliner. Then the three of us walked across the street so that Dad and Lester could take a picture.
I slipped Patrick’s corsage on my wrist, and we lined up in front of the stairs while Dad fiddled with the flash. As I stood there between Elizabeth and Pamela, I thought of all the things that had gone on in this hall since we’d moved to Silver Spring three years ago. The first night, when Elizabeth and her mother had brought dinner over to welcome us to the neighborhood, and I’d been mad because Dad had promised us pizza; the time Crystal returned all the gifts Lester had given her and left them in a box at the door; all the times Patrick had kissed me here; the time I saw Dad hugging Miss Summers… .
Dad took a couple of pictures, then Lester came downstairs with his camera.
“Okay, ladies,” he said, “say ‘cheese.’” When he didn’t get the smiles he wanted, he said, “Say ‘cheddar.’” And when we still looked too dopey, he said, “Heck, say ‘Big Mac with fries.’”
After that he stood us sideways like showgirls, one hand on the shoulder of the girl in front, the other hand holding our skirts above our knees.
“Okay, I’ll pick you all up at eleven,” he said, and we went back across the street. The moon was almost full, and I wondered if Patrick was looking at it, thinking about me alone at the dance.
Justin’s father pulled up in front of Elizabeth’s house, and both Donald and Justin came to the door at the same time carrying corsages for Pamela and Elizabeth.
I’ll admit that I was astonished to see how good they looked. I’d expected it of Justin, of course—tall and blond—the handsomest guy in the whole school. But I was shocked to see how Donald Sheavers had changed. He’s always been good-looking, but only a few months ago, it seemed, he was acting dumb at the mall. He politely handed the corsage to Pamela, though, and helped pin it on. He said hello to me, without the Tarzan yell, posed for pictures with Pamela, and, as we went out to the car, held the door open for us like an Air Force cadet.
I’d felt bad enough watching Donald and Justin pin their corsages on Pamela and Elizabeth, but even worse when the boys got in the backseat, with Pamela and Elizabeth on their laps, and I had to sit up front with Justin’s father. I knew that if Patrick had come along, all six of us might have sat back there, all packed in together and laughing.
I felt so out of it—as though I didn’t belong. Like everyone else was in, and I was out—outside looking in. Lori must feel like this a lot, I thought. It was the same way I felt during CRW—the way Dad probably felt when Lester and Carol were pretending to be in love and didn’t let him in on the joke.
Well, I told myself as we pulled up to the school, I could either go around with a sad face all evening and be the girl everyone pitied, or I could smile and laugh and dance and compliment the other girls on their dresses.
We went up the steps together, and some of the teachers greeted us at the door to the gym. Miss Summers was there in a chocolate brown dress with gold jewelry. I would have felt better if she had invited Dad to be her escort, but she hadn’t. He hadn’t seemed too upset by it—it was part of her job to be there, after all, and it would be understandable if she went with Jim Sorringer, he’d told me. What gave me hope, however, was that she had invited Dad to visit her in England.
She looked surprised that I’d come without Patrick, but I told her about the mononucleosis.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “Well, you have a good time anyway, Alice. I’ll bet he’s thinking about you right this very minute.”
The gym had been transformed into what the decorating committee called “The Gold Planet.” Gold spray-painted branches were propped along the walls, gold-sprayed gravel beneath them. Hundreds of gold paper flowers hung from the ceiling, and a strobe light cast whirls of gold triangles around the gym as the band—a professional band this time—beat out a strange and haunting rhythm.
Elizabeth and Justin started dancing right away, but Pamela and Donald headed for the buffet table. Donald always heads for food. When he used to play at our house in Takoma Park, he’d gravitate toward the kitchen as soon as he got inside.
Lori and Leslie were there, but I noticed they didn’t really touch. They’d dance the fast numbers together with everyone else, but as soon as the slow music came on, numbers where couples put their arms around each other, they’d leave the floor and walk around the gym talking to the other kids. I was sorry they felt they couldn’t do the slow dances, but glad they’d decided to come.
“You look great, Alice,” Lori said.
“So do you,” I told her, and when the next number began, I got out on the floor with Lori and Leslie and a whole bunch of kids who came as singles, and we really whooped it up.
I was trying to keep an eye on Miss Summers, though, because I saw that Mr. Sorringer was there, all right, and I was trying to figure out if they’d come in the same car. About halfway through the dance, I saw her dancing with Mr. Ormand, who’s married, and then with Mr. Everett, who’s married too. But it was near the end of the evening that Sorringer danced with her.
What is it about your thirteenth and fourteenth years that so many things come at you at once? I wondered. I was standing over at the punch table putting some more ice in my cup and remembering all the bad stuff that had happened during the past year. Crystal left Lester, Pamela’s mom left her dad, Miss Summers decided to go to England for a year, and now the dance I’d looked forward to all year found me here by myself, watching the w
oman my dad loves dance with another man who used to be, or still was, perhaps, her boyfriend.
As the number ended, and a slow tune began, I felt someone’s hand on my waist and turned to see Sam smiling at me.
“Dance?” he said.
“Well, I …” I looked around to see where his date was.
“She’s dancing with someone else,” Sam said.
“Okay,” I told him.
I put my hand on Sam’s shoulder and he held me close, but not too close.
“Patrick called,” he said as we moved about the floor.
“I know. He told me.”
“I was really surprised when he asked me to take you. Because you know I would have taken you if …”
“I know,” I said, remembering how he’d asked me even before Patrick did, but I was so sure Patrick would take me that I’d said no.
We talked about when the Memory Book would be out, and how we hoped we’d gotten the photos in on time to make the deadline. When the song ended, Sam leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the cheek, squeezed my hand, and led me back to the punch table again before he went off to find his date.
Pamela came over.
“My gosh, Alice, I saw!”
“What?”
“He kissed you!”
“We’re really good friends,” I said, but couldn’t help smiling.
“Really good friends, I’d say.” She laughed.
“Look. I like Sam a lot.”
“Yeah, but—” She stopped, and I followed her eyes and saw that Mr. Sorringer was still dancing with Miss Summers as the next song began, and it seemed to me that he was trying to pull her closer. She backed away almost imperceptibly, but she was talking—talking and smiling—and then he talked and smiled back, so I couldn’t tell if she backed off because she didn’t want to dance close or because, at that particular moment, she just had something to say.
“Hey, Alice! Dance?”
It was Donald Sheavers this time.
“Go ahead,” said Pamela. “I’m going to the restroom.”