“Guess what, Becca?” Randi bursts into the room with a huge grin on her face. The mop slams to the floor. The door slaps shut.
Our dance unceremoniously over, Colt bends to retrieve the mop.
“What?” I say, as Randi drags me off to a corner.
“I’m in the lavatory, combing my hair, and guess who slinks in in her tight red dress with the hem that’s knee-high in front but dips down to the floor in back?”
I don’t know about the hem, but the tight, red part is a good-enough hint. “Madison ….”
“Yeah. She was all nose-in-the air as she strutted into a stall. I was gonna leave, but then I just had this feeling I should stay. Like maybe, I could say something to her to, you know, get her away from Justin.”
As if you could do that with a few choice words, I do not say. “Oh?”
“Next thing, I hear this flush, and then this totally brutal scream.”
I assume nothing bad happened to Randi, because she stands there with a cold smile and a hard look in her eyes. “And?”
“Madison storms out of the stall totally in a panic. She’s screaming, ‘My dress, my dress!” Randi tries to choke back a laugh. “She’d been smoking in there and set the hem of her dress on fire! So, she ran over to a sink, turned on the water full blast, pulled up the front of her skirt and held the hem under the water. It splashed all over, so her dress was, like, dripping wet!”
“Yikes! What did you do?”
“I tried not to laugh before I ran out of there to tell you all about it!” Randi’s voice is seriously full of triumphant glee. “She’s stuck in there trying to dry out that dress!”
“Hmmm ….” I guess it makes sense Randi would not try to help. I mean, even if there’d never been anything behind the scenes going on with Justin and Randi, it still might be dangerous to try to deal with a near-rabid Madison.
Suddenly, the kitchen door flies open again, and in steps Justin. He gives a quick look around, then heads straight for Randi. “Hey, beautiful. I’m lonely. I’ve been abandoned. I need some company.”
Even though I’m apparently invisible as far as Justin is concerned, I step away and to try look busy rearranging some cookies that don’t need rearranging. I am, however, still within complete earshot.
What I don’t hear is Randi saying one word about Madison’s whereabouts or why she supposedly “abandoned” Justin.
“I’m totally happy to keep you company,” Randi says, her voice all soft and silky.
Next thing, I hear the shuffling of feet. Thanks to the wonders of peripheral vision, I see Justin hustle Randi into the dark corner opposite of where Tanya and Todd are all kissing-and-groping. Justin’s mouth swoops down on Randi’s parted lips. They’re pressed together like the bread in a grilled-cheese sandwich. As the lace hanky in her blouse somehow drifts to the floor, I decide I’ve had more than enough visual prying. I turn away to see Kurt trying very hard to not look at what’s happening with Randi. I focus on the tray in front of me.
“I think you can stop shuffling the cookies now,” Colt says in a teasing voice as he places his hand over mine.
My heart does that little jumpy thing again and I get a too-big smile on my face. “Oh, right.”
The door flies open once more. This time it’s Madison. Her dress looks dry and the hem looks okay, so I guess she put out the fire before any real damage was done.
Colt whispers, “Is this a kitchen or a plane terminal?”
I half laugh, half sputter, because Madison looks as if she is ready to rip off someone’s skin, molecule by molecule. I give a quick glance toward Justin and Randi, then quickly turn away—but not before I see what looks like his tongue in her mouth.
“Hi, Madison! Can I help you?” I practically yell, giving Randi and Justin a chance to spring apart before Madison sees them.
“I’m looking for someone,” Madison says, her words cold and sharp as an icicle.
“Hey, babe.” Justin strolls out of the shadows toward Madison. He nibbles a cookie he has somehow managed to snitch out of thin air. “I just came in for a snack.”
Randi is hiding her head so far into a freezer that her ears probably have frostbite.
Madison’s eyes shrink to slits. “You couldn’t just wait for more refreshments?”
“Hey, I’m a growing boy.” Justin pops the rest of the cookie in his mouth and slips his arms around Madison.
She softens a bit, but still has an I’ll deal with whatever later look on her face. “They’re about to announce the King and Queen of Cotillion. We really should be out there.”
“Right.” Justin escorts Madison back to the dance floor without so much as a glance at the fraction of Randi’s backside sticking out from the freezer.
The instant they’re gone, Randi rushes over, grabs me and drags me back to the well-used dark corner. I try to block out the muffled sighs and moans coming from the Tanya-and-Tim secluded portion of the kitchen.
“Oooh, Justin was all over me,” Randi whispers in a tone of voice that indicates she thinks that is a good thing.
“Oh, how, um ….” I can’t bring myself to say nice. I mean, I can’t believe Randi is thrilled to be pawed and tongued by Justin. What? She thinks it’s exciting to be The Other Woman? I worry that she’s just setting herself up to be hurt. Of course, I don’t tell her that. “Um, wow.”
Randi, who has stuffed the lacy handkerchief back in place, lowers her voice even more, but doesn’t hold back her excitement. “He said he dreams about us doing the Full Deal.”
I can’t hold back a sharp gasp. Yikes! Randi is flattered by this? She thinks it would be a thrill to have a guy do her for exactly nothing in return?
“Oh, what?” Randi’s voice holds a note of impatience. “As if you wouldn’t roll with Brent if he wanted.”
I’m completely glad the semidarkness hides the blush I feel rising in my cheeks. “W-what?”
“Oh, you think just because you never say anything, that I don’t know how you feel about Brent? C’mon, it’s me, Randi. I can see it all over your face.”
For a second I just gape at her in stunned silence. Then I try feebly to make light of it. “Yeah, sure, I think Brent is cute. But that’s all. I don’t—”
“Whatever.” Randi shrugs and waves me off. Fortunately, I think she’s too wrapped up in her own lusting for Justin to spend more than a millisecond being concerned about me and however I might feel about Brent. “It’s gonna happen with me and Justin, I just know it!”
I’m not sure exactly what Randi thinks is going to happen, but I figure, one—this is not the time or place to lecture her about what she wants to do or not do with Justin, and two—I’m scared that if she thinks I disapprove that she’ll go on the attack about whatever she suspects about my feelings for Brent. “I … I hope things work out for you and Justin.”
I am so lame.
“Thanks!” Randi gives me a quick hug, then dashes off to fish a small mirror out of her coat pocket. She runs her fingers through her hair and flicks a couple of imaginary specks off her chin.
I try to look nonchalant as I pour punch into cups and load them on my tray.
“Something going on with Randi and Justin I should know about?” Colt asks, sounding not-at-all serious.
I shake my head. “Definitely nothing you need to know.”
“Good.” Colt flashes a big grin.
“I think I hear Kylie announcing the Cotillion Court!” Randi exclaims. “I want to be out there when she names the King and Queen!”
As if in answer to Randi’s wish, about three seconds later Kylie peeks into the kitchen, gestures to us and says, “Come on. You’ll want to watch this.”
Colt and I grab the cameras.
On her way out, Randi somehow manages not to trample Kylie. The rest of us file out quietly. Kylie indicates we should stand near the wall, so we line up there. However, she has to pull Randi away from the edge of the dance floor and point her in our direction. Randi ends up standing next to Kurt, but I don’t think she’s even aware that he exists at this point. She’s focused totally on Justin, who, along with Madison, is one of the couples making up the Court. Brent and Claire are also there, along with Ryan Palm and Megan Wood, Nathan Baker and Jeri Toal, Peter Lerner and Katy Lund. Claire wears a relaxed smile. Madison fluffs her hair and smoothes her dress, looking seriously ready to step forward when the King and Queen of the Cotillion Court are announced.
I get some candids of the crowd as well as of the members of the Court.
It is at this point that I realize it is Dad’s band playing in the background. They’re doing a brief medley of some of his favorite Eighties tunes that I hear all the time at home. Lean on Me, The Lady in Red and Always. I snap a couple of shots of Dad’s band.
Kylie steps up to a microphone. “And now …the King and Queen of The Cotillion!”
Dad signals for a drum roll.
“Let me proudly present ….” Kylie pauses for dramatic effect.
In preparation, Madison lifts her chin and flashes her I’m wonderful and I know it smile.
“ …Claire Christoff and Brent Kincaid!”
Claire’s hands fly to her mouth. I capture the moment!
Madison’s smile turns into a granite grimace. I’m not quick enough to get a shot of that, but maybe it’s just as well. Colt may have gotten it though, as he’s been shooting continuously. He’ll probably edit it out. He likes to make people look good, not bad.
Dad’s band starts playing “I’ve Had the Time of My Life.”
Brent takes Claire’s hand and leads her out to the middle of the dance floor. They dance for about twenty seconds, then the music stops, Dad says, “…and change,” the music starts again, Brent and Claire split and pick new dance partners, who just happen to be Madison and Justin. Justin looks all I’m fine with this, but Madison’s smile is still about as friendly as a rattlesnake.
Another twenty seconds and it’s time to change partners again. It doesn’t take long before the dance floor gets crowded and potential new partners dwindle. Next thing I know, Katy Lund asks Colt to dance. He really can’t say no, of course, but I hear him apologizing in advance for his dancing abilities. He’s tall enough—and in reality a good enough dancer—that he looks like a perfectly suitable partner for a senior girl. I’m getting some great shots.
What does not look suitable is about a second later when Justin approaches Randi. She seriously gloms onto him, much to the disapproving dagger-eyes of Madison as she peers over Nathan Baker’s shoulder. Just as I’m noticing this, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I lower the camera and turn to look.
“Dance?” Brent stands there giving me a smile that sends my pulse racing.
Too tongue-tied to speak, I nod, first carefully placing the camera on a table.
Brent pulls me gently into the circle of his arms. Though I have no idea what my feet are doing, magically we drift along on a cloud. My skin tingles. My heartbeat skyrockets. I do not want to look away from his gorgeous blue eyes for even a fraction of a moment. I know I have only twenty seconds with him like this, and I want to memorize and treasure every one of them.
When we get to nineteen seconds—yes, I’m counting—I realize that everyone in the room except the band members is dancing and that there’s probably still another half-minute until the end of the song! I’d swoon, but I don’t want to waste any time with Brent by losing consciousness. The way Brent holds me so gently is sweet, but as I gaze into the brilliant blue of his eyes I dream of being crushed in his embrace.
The song winds down to the last few notes. I try to think of something passionately romantic to say to make Brent fall desperately and instantly in love with me. He politely thanks me for the dance, which pretty much douses my would-be flaming declaration.
I pick up the camera and drift away from my dream world back to the reality of the kitchen. Kylie instructs us to get out there with refreshments again right away. As I pick up my tray of punch, I think how I’d like to head straight for Brent’s table. Claire, of course, would have rushed off to the airport because of some emergency with her aunt in the Florida Keys (I pick there because it’s about as far from Oregon as possible, yet still in the United States. I’m sure there must be some logic in that.) Of course, I can’t just breeze by all my other tables. I almost feel the frigid air as I approach Madison and Justin.
“P-punch?” I say, mostly to Justin, because I’m afraid to make eye contact with Madison for fear that her gaze might turn me to stone.
“Sure.” Justin gives me a friendly smile.
As I place the cup of punch in front of him, I can’t help but be impressed with how totally not bothered he seems to be about Madison’s hostile mood.
“Thanks, beautiful.” Justin touches my arm. It’s as if he enjoys making Madison jealous! Is it a power trip for him? Or some weird, kinky thing where his hitting on other girls leads to really hot whatever with Madison after they’ve had a big fight about it? Okay, that’s a seriously strange thought, but Madison’s seen Justin’s performances with Randi for a while now and she still hasn’t broken up with him.
I glance at Madison just long enough to see that her evil-eye laser is directed straight at Justin. I guess I’m not worthy of her contempt at the moment—thank goodness. I hurry off to the next table before Madison decides I do deserve her scorn.
When I finally get to Brent’s table, Claire again is among the missing. I almost wish I could thank her for her perfect timing in regard to being absent.
“Punch?” I say to Brent, partly because I’m supposed to and partly because I can’t think of anything really witty or charming.
“Sure.” Brent’s fingers brush mine as he takes the cup from me. “Hey, I heard that was your Dad’s band playing for the Cotillion Court dance. They’re really good.”
“Th-thanks.” My heart is still fluttering from the brief fingers touch.
“You’re a good dancer.” Brent gives me a leisurely smile. “Too bad we didn’t have more time.”
I gasp. What is he saying? Is he just being polite? Or does he really wish we could have danced together longer? Why can’t I think of what to say? “Um … y-yeah.”
Oh, brilliant, Becca, just brilliant! Why don’t I just pour a cup of punch on myself and dissolve into a fruit-colored puddle?
“Hi, Becca!” It’s Claire, looking like the glowing vision of beauty that she actually is in her white, poufy, rhinestone-studded gown. She smiles sweetly.
“H-hi,” I say. “And, um, congratulations on being Cotillion Queen.” Ack, why didn’t I think to congratulate Brent on being King?
“Thank you.” Claire turns to Brent and says in what sounds like all sincerity, “Maybe Becca will be Cotillion Queen when she’s a senior.”
Brent scans me quickly and seems to beam his approval. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Even though I am seriously sure they are both just being polite, I feel my face turning pink and hot. I don’t know what to say. Even thank you seems like too much, as if I’m agreeing with their assessment. “Um, uh, well ….” I have to take a deep breath. “I’d, er, better keep making my rounds.” Making my rounds? I am a total dork!
My face still feels flushed by the time I get back to the kitchen with my now-empty tray. I know I’m drooping like a wilted daisy, but I’m beyond caring. Why couldn’t I be romantically involved if only in my mind with a guy who is not so totally out of my league. I mean, I fall for a completely gorgeous senior who is not only not single, but his girlfriend is both beautiful and so seriously nice that I can’t even hate her. I am ready to ditch my tray, grab my coat and walk home, where I can stand in the shower for at least an hour feeling sorry for myself.
“You look nice with your cheeks all pink,” Colt says in this off-hand way, as if he were Randi saying she likes my shoes. Not that she’s ever liked my shoes.
“Huh?” I touch my cheek, then brush a lock of hair off my face as if that’s what I meant to do all along. “Um, thanks?” I say, though I try not to make it sound too much like a question. I notice that Colt is arranging cookies on his tray in the shape of a star. Since it’s a chance to change the subject, I point to this. “What’s with the star pattern?”
Colt shrugs. “I guess I should say I’m being artistic, but truth is I’m getting bored. It’s sad to find out at such a tender age that I’m not cut out for my life’s ambition to be a waiter.”
I try to suppress a laugh, but I don’t quite succeed. “Don’t worry. Maybe you can still make it as a busboy.”
“If only.” Colt grins.
For some reason, this easy banter with Colt has turned me from a wilted daisy back into a fresh-as one. “Only one more round of refreshments and that’s it.”
“Good news at last.” Colt pretends to wipe his brow.
“Great news!” Randi swirls into the kitchen, all radiant. “I got to talk to Slash!”
“Slash?” Is this some new nickname for Justin, because Madison has, like, cut off his ear or something? I think, but do not ask.
“The drummer for The Radical Tires!” Randi says, as if how could you not know this? She eyes Colt, who is suddenly busy arranging cookies again, and lowers her voice. “He asked for my phone number ….”
“And you gave it to him?”
“No. I gave him yours.” Randi rolls her eyes. “Of course I gave him my number. Why not?”
“Slash must be at least nineteen. You’re ‘in love’ with Justin.” I say, though I do try to keep the quotation marks out of my voice.
“Please. Age is just a number. And who says I can’t like more than one guy?” Randi shakes her head just enough that her shiny brown hair flips across her shoulders. Some day she’s going to get whiplash from all her hair-flipping.
“Ninety-two is a number, but you probably wouldn’t be all hot and bothered by a guy that old.”
“Pfft.” Randi waves me off. “I am totally mature enough for Slash.”
“Whatever.” I figure there’s no point in trying to tell Randi anything about her lust, um, I mean, love life, at least not right now here in the school kitchen.
The last round of refreshment serving goes quickly, because people are starting to leave for early curfews, parties, motels, or whatever it is seniors and their dates do after Cotillion. As we clean up I try to decide what kind of relationship, or lack thereof, Nina and Marc have going. I’ve seen them in deep discussion, but not the I only have eyes for you kind, at least not on Nina’s part. It’s more discussing Scene Stealers stuff, I think. It takes no deep thought to figure out Tanya and Todd. Except when they’ve been out on the dance floor serving refreshments, they’ve been huddled in one of the deep, dark corners of the kitchen and there’s been a definite lack of conversation between them, if you know what I mean.
Randi is pretty much stay tuned for further developments. My brain synapses are not fast enough to keep up with her liaisons or whatever with Justin and Slash.
As for Colt and that whole hand-touching thing and my reaction, I think I’ve had Brent so much in my brain tonight that I was imprinting his image onto Colt. Displacement, I think it’s called. Colt is strictly in the just-friends, study-partner category. He’s nice, he’s smart and I don’t go all ga-ga whenever I’m in his presence.
The best part of the entire evening was the fifty or so seconds I spent dancing with Brent.
Before I can go back and relive every one of those seconds, Kylie breezes into the kitchen just as we’re putting away the last of the trays and sponging up the last drops of spilled punch off the counter. “Thank you, everybody! You did an amazing job tonight! Girls, everyone thought you looked adorable in your outfits!” she bubbles.
Adorable? Okay, if you want to believe that, Kylie, but I still have to question some people’s definition of the word. Or maybe I’m just too “prim and proper,” as my grandmother would say.
“Looks like you’ve cleaned up in here!” Kylie says in a voice that would imply we’d just put the finishing touches the Taj Mahal. “So you can take off now. Thanks again!” She wafts back out the door.
I go to grab my coat, but Colt snatches it and holds it out for me. As I slip my arms into it, I say, “Thanks. I guess we made it through without any major disasters.”
“Yeah,” Colt says. “I didn’t even rot out the armpits of my tux.”
I spit out a few sparks of giggles. “And on that happy note … goodnight.”
Everyone else heads for the front door, but I go meet up with Mom, who’s waiting for Dad and his band to finish packing up.
Mom starts in right away.
“Wasn’t that the Kincaid boy you were dancing with?”
No answer.
“Isn’t he going with that Claire girl?”
No answer.
“Don’t you think you’re too young to be dancing with a senior?”
No answer.
“Is the ‘help’ allowed to dance?”
Yikes. It’s just as I’d imagined, except Mom’s rapid fire is so quick I don’t have time to answer any of those questions, even if I wanted to.
“So, how did it go with Ms. Poliak and Mr. Kincaid?” I ask, as if Mom had not uttered a word about me dancing with Brent. “Did they, like, hit it off?”
“Not exactly.” Mom gets all tight-lipped. “She was polite to Mr. Kincaid, but she couldn’t stop talking about your father. How great his sax playing is, how handsome he is, how ‘lucky’ I am to be married to him. Lucky? As if I’m not good enough to be married to Gil Bidwell?”
I should probably interrupt with some reassuring comment about how Dad is the lucky one or something, but Mom is on a roll. And, hey, it got her off my back ….
Finally, Dad is all packed up and ready to leave. “Hey, what’d ya think? Can the old man still jam?”
“You were great, Dad,” I say. Actually, his old-timey music did fit the mood for crowning the king and queen more than The Radical Tires stuff would have.
“Karen Poliak thought you were just marvelous,” Mom says, spacing the words evenly.
“Thanks, girls!” Dad pulls me and Mom into a group hug, then plants a big kiss on her cheek. Either he’s oblivious to what Mom said, or he figures it’s better to avoid the verbal dart she threw.
Dad then releases me and swirls Mom around on the dance floor. “You were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight!”
“Oh, Gil ….” Mom tries to act as if she’s all embarrassed, but she has a big smile on her face.
I think Dad knows what he’s doing.
When we finally leave, I see that it’s raining and any trace of snow is gone. That’s okay. I’m already working up an outline for the dream I plan to have tonight about dancing on and on and on with Brent ….