Read Online Calamity and Other Stories by Daphne Kalotay - Free Book Online
Authors: Daphne Kalotay
Ads: Link
that?”
“He said he had someone else he could go with. Look, I’d better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Tilda, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You just seem . . . like you’re mad at me or something.”
Tilda nodded her head slowly, squinting her eyes as if filtering Mack’s words through them. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said. She stood there and looked, all at once, full of disgust.
“I don’t get it,” Mack told her. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” she said. “That’s what. You had me do your dirty work for you. You sat back and let me hurt somebody in the most ignoble”—it was a word from the college entrance exam— “way. You didn’t have to hurt anyone. You got me to do it instead.”
Mack stared at her. “You’re the one who said you wanted to come with me. You’re the one who was stupid enough to say yes to Carmine in the first place.”
“What choice did I have? When you sit there and do nothing? Was
I
supposed to ask
you
? Why don’t you do some of the work for once?” Tilda shook her head and walked away. She didn’t speak to him for the next three days.
The day of the prom, Madame Lipsky took a final tally. She nodded with approval and told Mack, “I knew you’d do the right thing.”
Mack tried to smile. He didn’t dare look at Tilda, even though she had, twice that week, spoken to him briefly and even eaten lunch with him.
“And your friends?” Madame Lipsky asked the rest of the room. “They all set? Everyone’s paired off?”
“Except for Carmine Bocchino,” a girl called out. “I heard him in the cafeteria today. He said his date backed out and he can’t find anyone.”
Mack gave Tilda a covert glance. She looked surprised.
“Who was his date?” people were asking, but the girl said she didn’t know.
“He didn’t say her name.” (He hadn’t said any of the others, either, of course, but each of them had told someone.) “He just said he’d been stood up.”
Madame Lipsky’s face reddened and her mouth tensed. “This is unacceptable.” She shook her head, bit her lip. “We can’t stand back and let this happen.”
Mack looked at the floor. He felt himself sweating. A crumpled note landed by his foot.
“HE TOLD ME HE HAD SOMEONE ELSE TO GO WITH!”
Prithi Desai raised her hand. “My little sister’s never been to a prom before. She’s a freshman. I’m sure she’d want to go.”
“Where is she now?”
“Math, maybe? I’m not sure.”
Madame Lipsky was scrawling something on a piece of notepaper. “Go to the office and find out. And find out where Carmine is. And when you’ve talked to her, go tell him.”
The room filled with a sense of emergency. Since their class was seventh period—the last class of the day—Madame Lipsky wrote passes for the rest of the girls, too, so that they could go home and set their hair.
“Go, now, get going, make yourselves beautiful,” she cried, shooing them out the door. The girls filed out of the room, even the ones who had never done anything with their hair and probably wouldn’t tonight. Tilda collected her books and gave Mack a cold look. Glumly she told him, “See you at five.”
Mack watched her and the other girls funnel into the hallway. With a piercing, explicit pang, he wondered if Tilda would ever truly like him again, the way she had liked him before.
In a few hours she would be by his side, in a magenta dress that tied in a halter behind her neck. She would dance with him, and with Geoff, and with Carmine Bocchino, whose date would spend most of the night with her sister instead. Carmine would go around with a fancy camera taking pictures of everyone, roll after roll, as if this were a wedding or some other occasion warranting an entire photo album. He would request a dance with each of the girls who had originally refused him, and they would each say yes, even Belle Gardner, since it was one thing to dance
“He said he had someone else he could go with. Look, I’d better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Tilda, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You just seem . . . like you’re mad at me or something.”
Tilda nodded her head slowly, squinting her eyes as if filtering Mack’s words through them. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said. She stood there and looked, all at once, full of disgust.
“I don’t get it,” Mack told her. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” she said. “That’s what. You had me do your dirty work for you. You sat back and let me hurt somebody in the most ignoble”—it was a word from the college entrance exam— “way. You didn’t have to hurt anyone. You got me to do it instead.”
Mack stared at her. “You’re the one who said you wanted to come with me. You’re the one who was stupid enough to say yes to Carmine in the first place.”
“What choice did I have? When you sit there and do nothing? Was
I
supposed to ask
you
? Why don’t you do some of the work for once?” Tilda shook her head and walked away. She didn’t speak to him for the next three days.
The day of the prom, Madame Lipsky took a final tally. She nodded with approval and told Mack, “I knew you’d do the right thing.”
Mack tried to smile. He didn’t dare look at Tilda, even though she had, twice that week, spoken to him briefly and even eaten lunch with him.
“And your friends?” Madame Lipsky asked the rest of the room. “They all set? Everyone’s paired off?”
“Except for Carmine Bocchino,” a girl called out. “I heard him in the cafeteria today. He said his date backed out and he can’t find anyone.”
Mack gave Tilda a covert glance. She looked surprised.
“Who was his date?” people were asking, but the girl said she didn’t know.
“He didn’t say her name.” (He hadn’t said any of the others, either, of course, but each of them had told someone.) “He just said he’d been stood up.”
Madame Lipsky’s face reddened and her mouth tensed. “This is unacceptable.” She shook her head, bit her lip. “We can’t stand back and let this happen.”
Mack looked at the floor. He felt himself sweating. A crumpled note landed by his foot.
“HE TOLD ME HE HAD SOMEONE ELSE TO GO WITH!”
Prithi Desai raised her hand. “My little sister’s never been to a prom before. She’s a freshman. I’m sure she’d want to go.”
“Where is she now?”
“Math, maybe? I’m not sure.”
Madame Lipsky was scrawling something on a piece of notepaper. “Go to the office and find out. And find out where Carmine is. And when you’ve talked to her, go tell him.”
The room filled with a sense of emergency. Since their class was seventh period—the last class of the day—Madame Lipsky wrote passes for the rest of the girls, too, so that they could go home and set their hair.
“Go, now, get going, make yourselves beautiful,” she cried, shooing them out the door. The girls filed out of the room, even the ones who had never done anything with their hair and probably wouldn’t tonight. Tilda collected her books and gave Mack a cold look. Glumly she told him, “See you at five.”
Mack watched her and the other girls funnel into the hallway. With a piercing, explicit pang, he wondered if Tilda would ever truly like him again, the way she had liked him before.
In a few hours she would be by his side, in a magenta dress that tied in a halter behind her neck. She would dance with him, and with Geoff, and with Carmine Bocchino, whose date would spend most of the night with her sister instead. Carmine would go around with a fancy camera taking pictures of everyone, roll after roll, as if this were a wedding or some other occasion warranting an entire photo album. He would request a dance with each of the girls who had originally refused him, and they would each say yes, even Belle Gardner, since it was one thing to dance
Similar Books
