Read Online Saturday Night by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caroline B. Cooney
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Absolutely wonderful.”
She could neither move nor think. She simply smiled at him; his smile—sweet, but revealing nothing.
He said, “Are you waiting for somebody, Beth Rose?”
She had never thought her two names went well together. The names took too long to say, they were awkward; most people were reluctant to bother. When she was little, the other little kids shortened it to Brose. Now they didn’t bother; they said Beth—if they said anything at all.
For the first time in her life, Beth Rose Chapman flirted. “I’m waiting for you,” she said. They stood very still.
The band played so fiercely she thought the light fixtures might explode under the pressure of the sound.
Couples entered the dance behind Beth, split like rivers over rocks in the water to get past them, and circled the fountain. Gary said softly, “My good luck.” He curled his fingers around hers, moved so gracefully to her side it was like an old-fashioned dance step, and began walking her toward the fountain. From his pocket he drew pennies, and handed her one. “Make a wish.” It was a command. I wanted this to happen so much that I’m fantasizing right during the dance, Beth Rose thought. Actually, Gary isn’t standing here and I don’t have a penny in my hand. People are calling the ambulance for me, but not because of the knot in my stomach. They’re going to lock me in a padded room.
Gary’s hand, with the penny, stayed in hers. His hand was warm and rough and not as large as she would have expected. Her own hand was much slimmer, much paler, but their fingers were the same length. Her nails, painted deep rose, reflected in his palm. She tossed the penny.
I wish for Gary all night long.
The penny fell into the shallows. It lay among the other pennies, and after she blinked, she could no longer tell which penny it was.
In a normal voice, Gary said, “I’m starving. Are you? Let’s see what Kip planned for food, huh? My dad catered some of it, but I eat that stuff all the time. Let’s see what else there is.”
Gary Anthony. Talking to her as if she really were his date.
Beth Rose glided down the scarlet path with him, her dress rustling against his legs, her hand still in his.
Molly looked up from Christopher, with whom she seemed to be having trouble, and her jaw fell. Sue and her date, Page and her date, Caitlin and her date—they all stared. Each girl turned to the others and Beth fancied she could read their lips. Is that Beth Rose? With Gary?
Anne Stephens and Con Winters, locked together as always, glanced up. Beth Rose read identical confusion on them. They could not quite identify her. Well, there were some seven hundred juniors and the same number of seniors; it was not surprising. But it still hurt. She had admired Anne for so many years; she would have liked to think Anne could recognize her face, at least.
Gary was good friends with Con. He stopped to talk. Anne smiled the blank smile of someone waiting to be introduced. “This,” said Gary, smiling into Beth’s eyes and not theirs, “is Beth Rose Chapman.”
Beth felt as if her name had just been entered on some sort of social honor roll. Con shook her hand. Anne smiled more naturally. “You are wearing the most beautiful dress, Beth,” said Anne. “I’ve never seen one like it. Is it an antique?”
“Yes. My great aunt Madge wore it to her prom fifty years ago.”
Anne clapped her hands, laughing. “I love it! What a wonderful family tradition! I hope when I have a family—”
Her voice broke off abruptly. She bit her lip, and stared off into the decorations. Neither boy noticed. They were talking about food. Con was recommending the little round hot things with the sausage. “Yeah,” said Gary, “my father made those. They’re always good.”
“Are you all right?” said Beth to Anne.
Anne stared at her with a queerly frozen look.
“We’re going to sit down over here,” said Con, pointing to a pair of oak park benches Kip
She could neither move nor think. She simply smiled at him; his smile—sweet, but revealing nothing.
He said, “Are you waiting for somebody, Beth Rose?”
She had never thought her two names went well together. The names took too long to say, they were awkward; most people were reluctant to bother. When she was little, the other little kids shortened it to Brose. Now they didn’t bother; they said Beth—if they said anything at all.
For the first time in her life, Beth Rose Chapman flirted. “I’m waiting for you,” she said. They stood very still.
The band played so fiercely she thought the light fixtures might explode under the pressure of the sound.
Couples entered the dance behind Beth, split like rivers over rocks in the water to get past them, and circled the fountain. Gary said softly, “My good luck.” He curled his fingers around hers, moved so gracefully to her side it was like an old-fashioned dance step, and began walking her toward the fountain. From his pocket he drew pennies, and handed her one. “Make a wish.” It was a command. I wanted this to happen so much that I’m fantasizing right during the dance, Beth Rose thought. Actually, Gary isn’t standing here and I don’t have a penny in my hand. People are calling the ambulance for me, but not because of the knot in my stomach. They’re going to lock me in a padded room.
Gary’s hand, with the penny, stayed in hers. His hand was warm and rough and not as large as she would have expected. Her own hand was much slimmer, much paler, but their fingers were the same length. Her nails, painted deep rose, reflected in his palm. She tossed the penny.
I wish for Gary all night long.
The penny fell into the shallows. It lay among the other pennies, and after she blinked, she could no longer tell which penny it was.
In a normal voice, Gary said, “I’m starving. Are you? Let’s see what Kip planned for food, huh? My dad catered some of it, but I eat that stuff all the time. Let’s see what else there is.”
Gary Anthony. Talking to her as if she really were his date.
Beth Rose glided down the scarlet path with him, her dress rustling against his legs, her hand still in his.
Molly looked up from Christopher, with whom she seemed to be having trouble, and her jaw fell. Sue and her date, Page and her date, Caitlin and her date—they all stared. Each girl turned to the others and Beth fancied she could read their lips. Is that Beth Rose? With Gary?
Anne Stephens and Con Winters, locked together as always, glanced up. Beth Rose read identical confusion on them. They could not quite identify her. Well, there were some seven hundred juniors and the same number of seniors; it was not surprising. But it still hurt. She had admired Anne for so many years; she would have liked to think Anne could recognize her face, at least.
Gary was good friends with Con. He stopped to talk. Anne smiled the blank smile of someone waiting to be introduced. “This,” said Gary, smiling into Beth’s eyes and not theirs, “is Beth Rose Chapman.”
Beth felt as if her name had just been entered on some sort of social honor roll. Con shook her hand. Anne smiled more naturally. “You are wearing the most beautiful dress, Beth,” said Anne. “I’ve never seen one like it. Is it an antique?”
“Yes. My great aunt Madge wore it to her prom fifty years ago.”
Anne clapped her hands, laughing. “I love it! What a wonderful family tradition! I hope when I have a family—”
Her voice broke off abruptly. She bit her lip, and stared off into the decorations. Neither boy noticed. They were talking about food. Con was recommending the little round hot things with the sausage. “Yeah,” said Gary, “my father made those. They’re always good.”
“Are you all right?” said Beth to Anne.
Anne stared at her with a queerly frozen look.
“We’re going to sit down over here,” said Con, pointing to a pair of oak park benches Kip
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