Last Dance

by Lurlene McDaniel

  -NINE-

  Madame Pershoff was right. Rachel never worked harder in her life. Every day after school for two hours or more, four hours on Saturdays, practice and rehearsal, special exercises at home. Her muscles ached, at first so badly that she could hardly limp around school. And at night, she was so exhausted that she fell into bed the minute she finished her homework.

  Her days became a ritual of routine. Up at six for stretching exercises. Breakfast and insulin shot. School. Dance class from three to five. Dinner and insulin shot. Homework and bed. On evenings when she had no homework, she went back to the studio for more classes.

  Sunday was her only “day off.” After church she messed around with Jenny. Every other Sunday, she attended the diabetes youth group meeting where she saw Shawn. Rachel looked forward to being with him. But his schedule was busy, too. He had soccer practice often and games every Saturday. Sometimes they talked on the phone, but mostly they were very involved with their own activities.

  Rachel’s goal was to be ready for the May auditions. So she planned her life around that goal and her diabetes. She learned to eat extra food before class to avoid reactions. She took excellent care of herself. Nothing was going to interfere with those auditions . . . not school, not friends, not even her diabetes.

  She noticed that Melanie was working just as hard. She wanted a scholarship, too. Well, maybe there’d be scholarships for both of them. But if there wasn’t, then Rachel was going to be sure that she got one.

  “Ah come on, Rachel. Just ask him. We can all go together. It’ll be fun,” Jenny pleaded with Rachel between bites of lunch in the cafeteria.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never asked a boy anywhere,” Rachel said, shaking her head.

  “So, there’s always a first time. And I’ll bet you he’d love to come.”

  Rachel pushed the food around on her tray. Her heart was pounding with anticipation. The Valentine’s Dance. Everyone in the school was talking about it, and everybody who was anybody was going to it. The dance committee had been working on decorations and refreshments for weeks. It would be fun to go.

  “Rachel, think about it,” Jenny continued. “Me and Ben and you and Shawn. Mr. Cole already said he’d drive us. Come on. Ask him.”

  Later that night Rachel talked to her parents about it. The Deerings exchanged glances. “Well, honey, if you’d really like to go with Shawn, then ask him,” her dad advised.

  “Sure,” her mother agreed. “We can invite the McLaughlins over to play cards that night and you and Shawn can go with Jenny and Ben. Then when you get back here, his parents can take him on home. I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

  “But I don’t have anything to wear. . . ,” Rachel’s voice trailed off.

  “No woman ever does,” her father said with a smile. “Why don’t you and Mom go shopping next Saturday?”

  Rachel started to protest, “But I have ballet—”

  “After class,” he assured her. “I am sure you can find something between the hours of one and nine!”

  “Could we, Mom?” Rachel asked, her excitement growing. She did want to go to that dance.

  “Of course, we can,” her mother answered. “But don’t you think you’d better ask Shawn first?”

  “Oh, sure.” Her heart was pounding. “Maybe I’ll call him right now.”

  Rachel picked up the phone nearby. Her hand started shaking. Stop it, she told herself. For heaven’s sake, it’s only Shawn. We’ve been to lots of things together. But she couldn’t shake her nervousness.

  It was scary to pick up a phone and ask someone for a date. How did boys get the guts? She wondered. What if he said ‘no’? Worse yet, what if he laughs at me? “Go out with you? To your school’s stupid dance? I’m busy.” She shook her head and tried to clear away the negative thoughts.

  Rachel took a deep breath and pushed the numbers for Shawn’s house. “Darn!” she said aloud. Her finger had slipped off the last button and she’d misdialed. Angrily she hung up.

  Suddenly, Rachel heard a giggle. She looked around. No one. Then she heard it again.

  “Chris!” she shouted. Sure enough. There sat her sister, crouching behind the door, holding her hand over her mouth, and trying hard not to laugh. “You get lost, you little brat!”

  Chris stuck out her tongue at Rachel. Rachel took a swing, but missed.

  “Mother!” Chris yelped, ducking the swat. “Rachel hit me!”

  “I did not! But she’s listening in on my conversation—”

  “Girls!” Mrs. Deering came down the hall and grabbed them both. “You two stop that this instant! Now, Chris, go to your room. This is Rachel’s private call and you have no business listening in.”

  “Oh, all right.” Chris shuffled toward her room. “But he’ll probably say no. Who’d want to go to a dance with her?”

  “Chris! You stop it!”

  But the damage was done. Rachel’s last bit of self-confidence evaporated. “See what I mean?” Rachel wailed to her mother. “She’s such a brat.”

  “That will do. Look, if you want to ask Shawn to the dance, do it. But stop prolonging the agony. The worst that can happen is that he can’t go.” Her mom left the hallway and Rachel turned back to the phone.

  “A lot she knows,” Rachel grumbled. But she picked up the receiver again. This time she dialed the number correctly.

  It rang four times before a voice answered. “Hello, McLaughlins’ residence.” It was Mrs. McLaughlin. Rachel’s heart was pounding.

  “M–may I speak to Shawn?” She sure wished her voice sounded more secure.

  “Just a minute. I’ll get him.”

  It seemed like an eternity before she heard his voice. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Shawn? It’s me . . . Rachel.”

  “Oh, hi.”

  He doesn’t sound too excited about hearing from me, she thought. She paused, and there was a long, awkward silence. “Whatcha doing?” she asked.

  “Homework.” More dead silence.

  “Um . . . I was wondering if maybe you’d like to . . . I mean, my school is having a Valentine’s dance next Saturday. . . that is, a week from next Saturday. . . Well, what I’d like to know is if maybe you’d like to come with me . . . and my friends Ben and Jenny.” There! She’d said it.

  “Say that again?” he asked.

  “I want to know if you’d like to come to my school Valentine’s dance a week from Saturday.” Rachel felt exasperated. Why couldn’t she be cool like Jenny? I’ll bet Jenny wouldn’t have gotten all tongue-tied, she thought.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I said, ‘sure,’” Shawn repeated.

  “Well, super.” Rachel felt relief wash over her. “My parents said something about inviting your folks over that night for cards. I guess Mom will be calling soon . . .” her voice trailed off. She couldn’t think of much else to say. “We’ll be riding with Jenny and Ben. His dad’s driving . . .”

  “Sounds good to me,” Shawn said.

  “Well . . . thanks. I’ll talk to you about it more later.”

  She felt like an idiot. And she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” he echoed. Then he added, “And thanks, Rachel.”

  She hung up the phone. She was weak and perspiring, but she felt proud. She’d asked him! And he said yes!

  If Mom drags me into one more store, I’ll scream! Rachel thought. They’d been shopping for three hours and couldn’t agree on anything.

  “Jeans!” Mrs. Deering had exclaimed. “You already own seven pairs. No way, young lady. You’re not going to a dance in jeans!”

  “But, Mom, everyone will be wearing jeans. I’ll look dumb all dressed up. Besides, three pairs of my jeans are rags. I only wear them around the house. I want a new pair.”

  “Forget it, Rachel.”

  “But Mom . . .” And so it had gone. From store to store. Rachel dutifully tried on sweaters and skirts while she
looked longingly at the jeans departments.

  They were both tired when they entered a small boutique in the mall that catered to girls her age. A helpful saleslady sized up the situation immediately and offered her seasoned experience.

  Rachel sulked as the woman showed her several pairs of dress pants. But she finally held up a pair that both Rachel and her mother liked. Rachel tried them on. They were flattering, low-rise wool pants in a gray herringbone pattern.

  Next the saleslady showed them a fitted, V-neck sweater in a pale pink color. Finally, she coordinated everything with a pair of dangling, pink-beaded earrings. Rachel stared at herself in the dressing room mirror. She had to admit that she looked pretty pulled together.

  Once the outfit was purchased, the tension between Rachel and her mother evaporated. They began to have fun together. Mrs. Deering took Rachel into the department store and bought her new pink blush, tinted lip-gloss, and a spray bottle of perfume. By the time they arrived home, they were beaming and content.

  On the night of the dance, Rachel gazed at herself in the mirror in her room for a long time. Her clothes were stylish and perfect. Her makeup made her look very grown-up. And her short dark hair was curled back from her face after half an hour with her curling iron. All in all, she thought she looked better than she ever had looked before.

  The look on Shawn’s face when she walked into the room to leave for the dance told Rachel that he thought so, too.

  -TEN-

  “Would you look at this place!” Jenny exclaimed. “What a crowd scene.”

  The cafeteria was jammed with kids. Rachel stood holding Shawn’s hand at the doorway and wondered how the four of them would ever squeeze in the place.

  Music from the DJ set up on the stage blasted out into the cool night air. Red and white hearts hung on the walls along with yards of matching crepe paper streamers. Along one wall there were rows of chairs and along another, long tables piled high with Cokes, chips, and pretzels.

  Rachel recognized several teachers standing around acting as chaperones. Most didn’t appear to be having much fun, except for Mr. Perez. It was easy to see why the PE coach was the most popular teacher in the school. He really fit in with the kids and sometimes seemed like one of them.

  The four of them squeezed into the cafeteria and immediately found themselves shouting above the din. “Let’s go up and watch the DJ for a minute!” Ben suggested. Shawn held Rachel’s hand firmly and wove a path through the dancing couples.

  Together they stood and watched the DJ go through his routine. In between songs he kept up a line of chatter into his mike. “Let’s do something a little bit slower now, fans . . .”

  Instantly, the music shifted to a slow and softer beat. All around them, dancers fused together. Shawn turned to Rachel and gently pulled her closer. Suddenly she felt very shy. Stop it! she told herself. This is Shawn. Why should I feel this way around him? But as he took her in his arms and pulled her closer, her heart started pounding.

  He smelled fresh and minty, and his wool sweater felt scratchy against her cheek. It was good to be so near him. His hands were warm and reassuring. “You know,” he said into her ear, “I was kind of scared to come here with you.”

  She pulled back and looked into his sparkling blue eyes. “Scared? Why?”

  “Do you know what it’s like to go to a dance with a REAL dancer?”

  “Oh, you’re so silly,” she smiled.

  “No, I mean it,” he teased. “What if I dance like I bowl? You took a real chance.”

  Rachel laughed out loud remembering the bowling party. “You’re right. But I’m glad I took the chance. Besides, I don’t do this kind of dancing in ballet and you know it.”

  “I’d like to see you dance sometime. How about those auditions you’ve been training so hard for? Could I come to them?”

  “Are you kidding?” Rachel laughed. “Parents aren’t even allowed to come. No, Madame Pershoff will pick us up in the morning of the audition and take us to the studio where they’re being held. Then we’ll fill out cards, get a number, and stand around being nervous till we’re called. Sometimes the judges just take one look at you and disqualify you.”

  “What? Without even giving you a chance?”

  “Well, ballerinas have to look a special way. And if you don’t have that look, then so long.”

  “Well, you look fine to me,” he added.

  “I hope I look fine to them,” she smiled.

  They danced on and on, from slow dances to fast ones. Everything the DJ played, they danced to. Rachel hardly had time to catch her breath before another song started playing. She was having the best time of her whole life. She realized with a start that she adored Shawn McLaughlin. It was wonderful to have him so close to her. To have him hold her.

  Rachel also decided that her mother had been right. Her dress pants were perfect for the dance. Sure, a lot of kids wore jeans. But a lot were dressed like her, too.

  Shawn looked particularly handsome to her. He wore jeans and a camel-colored sweater that set off his copper-colored hair. Rachel noticed more than one girl looking at her enviously. She even overheard Sally Andrews ask Cindy Curtis, “Who’s that with Rachel? He’s something else. Is he her boyfriend?”

  A boyfriend! Rachel thought with a start. But yes, that’s exactly who Shawn was . . . Rachel’s boyfriend. He’d been a friend to her. A real friend. And now. . . he was beginning to mean even more.

  “I have an idea,” Shawn interrupted her thoughts. “Why don’t we sit one out and let me get us a couple of Cokes. We deserve the ‘real thing.’” He winked at her and she caught his meaning instantly. Two diabetics needing a shot of sugar. She laughed out loud at his clever choice of words.

  He guided her over to a chair and she sat down gratefully. She was thirsty. Rachel watched him ease into the crowd and head toward the refreshment table. She bent down to rub her foot.

  “How about a dance, Rachel? Before your main man comes back?”

  She looked up with a start at Brandon Mitchell.

  “I–I don’t . . . I mean . . . Where’s Melanie?” Rachel was totally flustered.

  “Out of sight, out of mind,” he told her with a grin.

  “I can’t.” She felt her cheeks flush. Where was Shawn? Why didn’t he come back?

  “Oh, come on,” Brandon said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. “You look terrific! And I’ll bet you’d really like to dance with me.”

  Rachel tried to pull away from him. The conceit! “No! Please, I don’t want anything from you.” She was on the verge of tears.

  “Take your hands off her!” Shawn’s voice cut through the air.

  Brandon dropped her hand and she retreated to Shawn’s side. “Hey,” Brandon shrugged, “I just wanted Miss High-and-Mighty to dance.”

  Shawn glared at Brandon. He wasn’t afraid of him at all.

  “Brandon! I’ve been looking every place for you.” Melanie slipped up beside Brandon and put her arm through his. She glanced anxiously from Brandon to Shawn to Rachel.

  “I’m right here, Mel,” Brandon said crossly. “Stop hanging on me.” And he turned on his heel and left her standing there. Melanie looked stricken. She stared at Rachel, then turned and went after Brandon.

  “Oh, Shawn, how could he do that to her? How embarrassing.” For the first time ever, Rachel felt sorry for Melanie Hallick.

  “The guy’s a creep,” Shawn said. “Here, drink your Coke.”

  Rachel sat and sipped the liquid in silence. How could she have been so blind to what Brandon Mitchell was really like? How could she have ever had a crush on him? She couldn’t believe he could be so thoughtless and cruel.

  Then she looked gratefully at Shawn. How lucky I am to have a boyfriend like you, she thought. And she leaned over and took his hand. “Thank you,” she said.

  “What for? I should have punched his lights out.”

  “Do you fight better than you bowl?” she teased.

  Rach
el couldn’t believe the dance was over. It seemed as if they’d just gotten there. But the lights had been turned up and the DJ was putting away his equipment. The four of them waited outside in the crisp night air for Ben’s father.

  “That was great!” Jenny chattered on and on. “Did you see Mary Bagley? Honestly, I think she found that outfit at Goodwill.

  And how about you, Rachel? Almost the cause of a fight.”

  “Oh stop it!” Rachel told her, snuggling closer to Shawn. Just then, Mr. Cole arrived and they all slid into the car. Mercifully, they rode in silence to Rachel’s house.

  Shawn thanked Mr. Cole and they stood and watched as the car slipped off into the night. Shawn took Rachel’s hand and they started up the winding walkway together.

  “Do you think they heard the car?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding? My mom has 20/20 hearing.”

  Rachel giggled. “That’s eyesight, silly. But I know what you mean. My mother probably heard everything that went on at the dance.”

  They reached her front door. The porch light burned like a beacon and Rachel reached for the doorknob.

  “Wait!” Shawn whispered, pulling back her hand.

  She turned and looked up at him. “Don’t go inside yet,” he said.

  “But it’s worse than daylight out here,” she said.

  “Yes, I know.” But he reached up and loosened two screws on the porch light fixture with a dime. Rachel watched, fascinated. The fixture dropped down, fastened to the wood by the two remaining screws.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “You’ll see.”

  Then Shawn pulled his sleeve down over his hand and carefully turned the hot light bulb until it blinked off. Suddenly they were standing in the dark.

  “Dad will be out like a shot,” she warned.

  “Maybe they’ve got a hot hand of cards going and won’t notice,” he said.

  Just then, the moon broke through the cloud cover and blinked through the trees overhead. Shawn put both arms around Rachel and pulled her close. Her heart was pounding.