“I guess not. What should I do then?”
“I'm sure you'll figure out the best thing to do.” She smiled and patted my knee.
Letting me figure things out when I've made a mess of some sort is probably Mom's favourite form of torture. She points things out and makes me think until I'm all in a tangle inside, feeling guilty and confused, and then leaves me to decide how to get out of it.
Lots of times when I have to think something through I find it helps to take a long walk. I hauled my jacket back on and headed out, hoping that the whole thing would sort itself out in my head.
The sun was shining, making the early December snowfalls glisten so sharply that it could take your breath away. That kind of beauty usually cheered me, but it really didn't seem to help much that day. I knew the worst
part of what I'd done was that Greg was going to get the wrong impression. For sure he'd assume I liked him; what else could he think? Undoing that would mean hurting his feelings, there was no way around it.
I wished I wasn't even going to the dance. At that moment I'd have gladly given up the beautiful dress Mom had made me if I could just take back the foolish invitation. But, like most mistakes, it was done and couldn't be undone. It's so much easier to get into a mess than out of it!
There was no easy answer, and it soon became clear to me that the only course of action for the time being was to go and be really nice to Greg. I hoped that he wouldn't expect it to lead to other dates, but I knew different.
I was on my way back home when I saw Betts's familiar face coming along the street. It looked as though she was heading towards The Scream Machine, but when she spied me she waved and hurried over.
“Hey Shelb, where you going? I just called your place, but you're not there.”
That sounded funny, as if I didn't know I wasn't home. It made me smile in spite of my misery.
“Nowhere, really. Just walking.”
“I was going to get an order of fries.” She smiled as if she was really looking forward to that. I knew different. Half the time, Betts has to fend for herself at sup-pertime because her mom works two jobs. Her dad has
a good job too, but they have a really fancy house and two new cars, and I guess they need a lot of money coming in to pay for everything.
I'm glad that my mom doesn't have to work, although sometimes she sells pictures to the local paper. My mom took up photography a few years back, and she's actually pretty good at it. She can capture a scene in a way that makes it really stand out. We have a darkroom downstairs now and it's really cool.
“Why don't you come to my place for supper instead?” I offered. “Mom made a big boiled dinner, so there'll be lots.” Mom never minded me bringing someone home for a meal.
“I think I'll just stick with fries,” Betts answered. “Anyway, I think that Graham is going to be at The Scream Machine, and I want to remind him about a couple of things for the dance.”
Graham was Betts' new boyfriend. He's a nice enough guy I guess, but not the hunk Betts made him sound like when she told me she was going out with him. He'd been hanging around her for a while, though she hadn't been interested in him at first. I guess he sort of grew on her.
I realized then that Betts didn't know I was going to the dance with Greg. I took a deep breath and told her.
“No way!” she squealed, getting all excited. I gave her a minute to calm down and stop waving her arms
and doing this funny kind of spastic bounce she does when she gets animated.
“Oh, I knew it! I just knew it!” She hugged me then, a big squeeze that almost made me lose my balance when she let go. “I knew he liked you. Oh, this is perfect.”
I laughed in spite of myself. It's nice to have a friend who's really happy when she thinks something good is happening to you, even though in this case she was wrong. Betts is loyal to the end, not like some girls who say stuff about their friends behind their backs.
“I'm just going to the dance with him, Betts,” I tried to calm her. “It's not like some big romance or anything.”
“We'll see.” She smiled and giggled as if she knew a secret.
I didn't have the heart to burst her bubble, so I just let her think what she wanted to.
At least one of us was happy about my date with Greg.
“Wow! You look beautiful!”
Greg was standing in the living room, holding a pale blue wrist corsage in his hand. I'd just come in through the hall doorway, regretting that we didn't have a big circular staircase like you see in the movies. You know the scene, when the heroine comes floating down, pausing a couple of times while everyone watches her, awestruck.
Not that I think I'm glamorous or anything, but in a long dress, with my hair done up in a French braid, I felt like someone else altogether.
“Thanks.” Greg looked nice too, in a black suit with a white shirt and burgundy tie. I was just about to say something about it when Mom spoke up.
“Doesn't your date look handsome in his suit, dear?”
It made me mad that she'd butted in.
“You look great,” I told him, but it must have seemed as if I was just agreeing with Mom. Maybe he thought I was just saying it because I had to, because she'd trapped me into it with her question.
He seemed happy anyway, although a bit embarrassed by the compliment.
“What a lovely corsage,” Mom broke in again.
“Oh, yeah,” Greg looked startled, and I figured he'd forgotten about the flower in his hand. “This is for you.” He slid it onto my wrist. It really was pretty, a cluster of tiny pale blue flowers among sprigs of white baby's breath.
“Sorry, they had no orchids left.”
I assured him it was beautiful and thanked him while Mom hovered around us making comments. I tried to give her a hint that her interference wasn't wanted, but if she noticed the covert frowns and glares she managed to ignore them completely.
“Well, I guess we'd better be going,” I said in desperation. Where was Dad anyway? He was supposed to drive us to the school, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Go?” Mom cried, as though I'd just proposed killing someone. “Not before I get some pictures you won't!” She ran off to get her camera.
I felt as though I was trapped in some sort of pre-dance torture chamber from which there might never be an escape.
“Sorry.” I rolled my eyes while looking at Greg. “She's not usually this weird.”
“I think she's sweet. I wish...; ”
His voice trailed off without finishing the sentence, but it wasn't hard to figure out what he'd been about to say. It hit me with a jolt that his mother was dead and that he'd probably give anything to have her there fussing over us and taking pictures.
“Oh, Greg. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean...;” It was my turn to be unable to go on.
“It's okay,” he said, “it's easy to forget how lucky we are sometimes and to take people for granted.”
I have to say that I was able to tolerate the picture taking session without being annoyed after that. Even though Mom was still flitting around and saying embarrassing things, it didn't bother me any more. I even told Greg that she'd made my dress and didn't mind that she tittered and giggled when he complimented her on it.
It seemed that Mom was more excited about the dance than I was. But then, she didn't have any guilt to deal with, and I did.
I was just about to start fretting again when Dad arrived at last, apologizing for the delay. He explained that he'd gone to have the car cleaned.
“A man has to take his chauffeur duties seriously,” he said jocularly, then broke off and stared at me. “My, my,” he sounded all choked up, “just look at you.”
After he'd stammered a few comments about me being “all grown up” and told me how nice I looked, we finally headed out, arriving at the same time as some other couples were entering the school. The auditorium was decorated with streamers and balloons and what looked like thousands of flowers made from coloured tissue. It had been transformed into a fairyland. The lights were covered in crepe paper, which gave the room a soft blue or purple glow, depending on where you were standing.
I was trying to keep the butterflies in my stomach under control, but it was my first formal dance and I had started to get flutters as soon as we walked in. I saw Betts across the room, and she beckoned us over to where she and Graham were standing.
We made our way through the growing crowd, pausing every few feet to say hello to other kids. Most of the guys looked kind of sheepish in their suits, but the girls were all squealing in admiration over each other's dresses. Of course, as soon as someone complimented someone else's dress, the other person gushed the same thing back, each insisting that the other dress was nicer. I looked around for Jane, wondering if her dress was going to be the big hit she'd claimed, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Then I saw Nick, standing with a couple of other guys. I figured Jane was in the girls' room, probably fixing her lipstick or, I thought unkindly, maybe just looking
in the mirror. I'd seen her doing that before, just staring at herself as though she couldn't tear herself away from her own reflection.
Annie Berkley was there with Todd Saunders. They're both in my class, and it was quite a surprise when we found out Todd was taking Annie to the dance. Todd is a good-looking guy and quite popular, but Annie is chubby and has curly hair that always seems to want to fly in the wrong directions. She has a nice smile and is friendly and all, but she's no beauty. No one could figure out why he'd asked her.
Annie's dress was the worst possible design for her figure. It was pale yellow, tied at the waist with a wide sash that made the rest of the fabric bulge out around it. Big balloon-style sleeves puffed out over her shoulders like oversized football pads. Instead of flattering her figure, it made her look twice her actual size.
Naturally I told her the dress was beautiful. She thanked me with her eyes averted and then quickly added that mine was very pretty too, though I don't see how she could tell since she wasn't exactly looking at me. I felt really bad, because I could see how uncomfortable she was and how out-of-place and awkward she was feeling in her big puffy dress. She looked as if she'd rather be anywhere but at the dance.
We moved on then, Greg and I, making our way through the crowd. I was keeping an eye out for Jane
but still hadn't seen her by the time we finally reached Betts and Graham.
Betts was in high form to say the least! She was giggling and talking to three or four people at once, tossing out remarks and turning from person to person, her face lit up and glowing with excitement. She squealed and hugged me when we got there.
“Oh, isn't this just the best! I can't wait until the band goes on stage. Oh! Your dress is perfect! Mine is too severe I think. I should have gone with the mauve one Mom wanted me to get, but this one was just so divine on the model.”
I'd already seen Betts in her sleek black dress about twenty times and had told her every time that it was great. I was just about to repeat the assurance I'd given on those occasions when Greg spoke up.
“I wouldn't call it severe. Actually, it's very elegant.”
“Oh, Greg, you're such a sweetie!” Betts gushed. “Do you really think so?”
He smiled and nodded but said nothing else. I figured that he'd used up all his ability to pay a compliment with that one remark. Guys aren't exactly good at offering commentaries on women's clothes!
“And Graham, isn't Shelby's dress to die for?”
Graham laughed at Betts's enthusiasm, took a deep bow, and told me with considerable exaggeration that my dress was divine. I curtsied back and told him he
was dashing and debonair in his suit.
“Oh, poor Greg,” Graham said then in a falsetto voice that made him sound exactly like a girl. “You must be feeling left out.”
“Yes, you must Greg,” Betts added, giggling at Graham's female voice. “But you look really yummy!”
“That's exactly what I was thinking earlier when I saw myself in the mirror,” he said deadpan. “I couldn't help noticing how yummy I was. Thanks for mentioning it, Betts.”
The band came on then, playing a hard, driving tune. Once the first few brave couples hit the dance floor almost everyone else rushed over to join them. I saw Nick dancing with Kelsey Princeton, who had left her date standing in the corner looking dejected. Nick glanced my way a few times, and it made me feel really awkward. I'm not a very good dancer anyway, but then I haven't had much practice.
It wasn't long before I found out why Nick wasn't dancing with Jane. Betts cleared it up for me when the band took its first break.
“Did you hear about poor Jane?” she gasped, out of breath from the last dance. “She took a dizzy spell and fell and hurt herself.”
“What a shame.” I tried to put something that sounded like sympathy into my voice, but all I could feel was disappointment. Because of my own stupidity,
I was stuck with Greg for the evening. There was Nick without a partner, and I was going to miss out on the chance to dance with him.
Then something else happened that almost spoiled the evening for everyone. The fire alarm sounded, screaming over the music. We all hurried outside the way we always do when there's a drill, but we knew they'd never have a drill during a dance.
We stood shivering in the cold for about ten minutes before one of the teachers came out and told us we could return to the auditorium. Once inside, an explanation was given, and we learned that there had been a fire in the wastebasket of the girls' washroom.
“This is very serious,” the teacher said sternly. “I assume that someone was smoking in the washroom and threw the cigarette butt in the garbage without properly extinguishing it. You all know that there is no smoking permitted in this building. If I so much as smell a hint of smoke anywhere in this school again this evening, the dance will end immediately.”