Last Dance Read online

  Lee rolled his eyes to the black night, and then let himself sink like a stone, and hung under the surface of the water blowing bubbles.

  Kip giggled. She and Mike used to do stuff like that, all the time. Now she practically needed a form in triplicate to get him to phone.

  Mr. Martin’s voice was going after only a few sentences. Hoarsely, he bellowed, “The rest of you kids go back to the ballroom or this dance is over!”

  Nothing happened.

  Kip sighed. She could organize the whole thing and get this straightened out in a heartbeat. She could make Anne feel better, save Lee’s job, calm Mr. Martin down, get the quiz off the ground, and herd all these teenagers back to the ballroom. And if she did…Mike Robinson would be angry with her…tell her he was tired of the way she had to run everything…and did she remember they were here as “just friends”?

  Kip stared at Mike, trying to decide what he was to her. Was it worth it to submerge her real personality—worth it to pretend she wasn’t good at being in charge? If she did hang onto Mike, all she would have was a boy who wanted her to be different than she really was.

  I am special, Kip thought. And I want a boy who agrees with that. I want to be like Beth Rose and have Gary. I want a boy who will stick with me through thick and thin. I want everybody to see me and think of two: like Pammy and Jimmy or Sue and Jason.

  Well, if I find that special boy, it won’t be here. Everybody at this dance arrived in pairs.

  Kip shrugged.

  She turned to the knot of kids, knowing even as she did so that this was the end of her relationship with Mike Robinson. “Up the hill,” she said firmly, escorting Pammy and Jason to the steps first and nudging Sue and Jimmy after them. “Your first clue,” she called out, “is that the person who was born on the ocean liner is one of this bunch! That narrows it down. Now move along. The band is doing requests. Sue, go be a pain and ask them for something they won’t know. George, you and Caitlin make sure everybody has a pencil. There’s a box of them by the front door, but nobody remembered to take one. Come on, George, you love doing stuff like this. Now, Caitlin, grab Kimberly and Pete over there as you’re going. Dance those two on up to the dance floor.”

  It always amazed Mike that anybody obeyed Kip; he thought she sounded like a first grade teacher making her kiddies line up to use the water fountain. But it worked for Kip, and people liked her in spite of the fact that she was yelling at them. He, Mike, did not like it at all. Mike pulled back into the shadows before Kip gave him an assignment, too.

  He really would rather be playing baseball.

  The thing with baseball was, you knew the skills you had to have. And you were with boys, and you understood them. Not that Kip was a mystery: in fact, she made everything all too plain most of the time. It was just that boys were easier. Mike was terribly grateful to be a boy.

  And not terribly interested in having a girl.

  Kip had made too much of it, that was the thing. He wanted a girlfriend some of the time, but Kip wanted a boyfriend all of the time.

  Mike truly didn’t remember the evenings he’d hardly been able to tear himself away from the Elliott household. He didn’t remember lying in bed wanting Kip’s voice so much he had to call her three times in one evening.

  The thing was over, and that was all.

  Mike had no memories to call upon: he had not stored up a single moment.

  Gary called out to the manager, “Hey, listen, it’s my fault, and I’m really sorry, you know? See, Lee here and I used to wrestle on different teams, and I got all excited when he was standing near the edge of the water and I just shoved him in.” Gary vaulted out of the pool without assistance. All the girls paused to enjoy this athletic maneuver.

  He would have pulled Anne up after him, but she swam away. So instead he gave Lee a hand. This time he didn’t let go, but pulled Lee out and pretended to dust him off. A reddish puddle began to form around Gary’s ankles.

  “Are you bleeding?” Beth Rose asked nervously from behind a tall stand of flowers.

  “Yes,” said Gary, “it’s fatal. You dye of it,” he added, and they all groaned at this pitiful attempt at a pun.

  Anne’s rage had worn off. Now she was just soaked and shivering. She refused to be near Con, so she was trying to pull herself out of the pool on the opposite side. There was no ladder there, and she was exhausted and could not quite haul herself out of the water.

  Con walked toward her. Molly got in his way and said, “Clumsy little thing, isn’t she? In everything.” Molly rolled her eyes suggestively.

  Con walked around her, but even that tiny moment had been too long. Lee had already circled the pool and yanked Anne up.

  Soaked, her yellow hair plastered to her, and her pale pink dress another skin, she was absolutely stunning. Con wanted to shout, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh, Anne, let’s—

  But he hated scenes.

  Anne wiped the water from her face as if she had been crying, and Lee realized, surprised, that indeed she was crying, and crying hard.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

  Lee was shaken. “It’s all right,” he said, patting her stupidly. Where did you pat a person to calm her down? “Don’t worry about it.”

  The wet beauty queen looked at him sadly, and Lee was shaken again. This was a girl with a lot more to worry about than ruined dancing slippers.

  Now only the original handful of kids were still by the pool. Kip was herding the rest in the sliding glass doors to the ballroom. They could hear her shouting out, “All right now, pairs break up! No going back to the person you came with until you have the answers to five questions. That’s right, five! Any five answers and you can find your date again!”

  They obeyed her like army privates a sergeant. The low buzz of chatter turned to a roar of questions and answers.

  The last thing they could hear clearly was somebody saying, “Look at question number eleven. Somebody here hates chocolate. Now that’s weird. Who would even admit it?”

  The glass doors slid shut, containing the noise and the dance.

  Anne blended her tears into the pool water with the back of her hand.

  Mr. Martin said, “Oh, well, just one of those things, I suppose. You three wet ones, go into the cabana and dry off. Okay, Lee, you still have a job.”

  Anne stood very stiffly. Come tell me you love me, Con, she thought. If there was ever a moment to use the L word, it’s now.

  Kip bounded down the path, having got the dance squared away, ready to take on the task of drying Gary, Lee, and Anne. All the rest but Mike turned to thank her. “I like you, kid,” Mr. Martin said. “You want a job for the summer? What’s your name? You’ve got style. I admire style. I pay for style.”

  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 pu
t 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.”