The Pink Dress

by Anne Alexander

  “My dress,” Sue answered. “He liked my pink dress.”

  “No.” Cathy shook her head. “It wasn’t the dress. He and Judy had a fight. He wanted to make her mad.” She touched Sue’s arm. “Don’t expect him to—to even talk to you Monday. He’s like that.”

  Sue tried to block Cathy’s words from her mind. She was probably right. She usually was. The Crowd was noted for its ability to cut anyone not a part of the group. Sue slipped into the front seat beside Dad quietly. She could dream for a little while, couldn’t she? Dave—the Peppermint Prom—and the pink dress. She smoothed the full skirt gently. Thank you, pink dress, she said under her breath.

  2.

  The New Crowd

  Sue never knew a weekend could drag so. In spite of Cathy’s warning, she’d hoped Dave would phone. But although the dear little instrument of communication almost jangled itself off the table with calls for Mom, Dad, and even Jay, it didn’t give a buzz for her. Still, she was glad for the usual Saturday chores of scrubbing the bathroom and cleaning her bedroom, because they kept her in the house on a chance that Dave might call. She felt a little bit like dying when Mom sent her to the store for milk. And sure enough, even though she made the trip in record time, when she turned up the walk to her home she saw Mom at the window, gesturing for her to hurry.

  Sue hurried, all right. She hurried so much she almost fell into the house.

  “Telephone,” Mom said with an odd look in her eyes. And Sue knew it was Dave.

  “Hello,” she said. And her voice trembled.

  “Hi.” It was Cathy.

  “Oh, you.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice.

  “Sure, me.” Cathy sounded cheerful. “Who’d you expect, the President?” Sue heard Cathy chuckle. “Oh no. You didn’t think it was Dave, did you?”

  “What do you want?” Sue’s flare of resentment at Cathy’s words made her voice sound almost rude.

  “Mom gave me a dollar for washing windows.” Cathy’s voice was smooth and unhurried. “I wanted you to go to the Avenue to buy a record.”

  “Can’t. I’ve too much to do.”

  “Please.”

  “Huh-uh. But bring the record by and we’ll play it.”

  “Okay.” Cathy sounded resigned as she hung up the receiver.

  By the time Cathy came with the record, Sue wished she’d gone along for the walk. Dave still hadn’t called. Today was such a letdown after last night. Never again, probably, would she have so much fun as she had last night.

  “We’ll go in the playroom to listen.” Sue reached in the cooler for the crackers and peanut butter. “Get some milk out of the refrig, Cathy.”

  The girls sprawled out on the rug and listened to the new piece. It was the hit of the week. The orchestra had played it several times last night, and Sue felt almost like crying as Cathy played it over and over. She hardly heard Cathy’s constant chatter.

  “Look,” said Cathy, taking off the record and slipping it into its case. “I’m going home. You don’t even listen to me. I asked you if you think we’ll make traffic squad next time, and all you said was ‘mmmmmm.’”

  Sue raised startled eyes. “I’m sorry. I must have been asleep or something.”

  “No, you weren’t. You were thinking of that darned Dave. Don’t you know he won’t even give you a tumble? He’s just out of our league. He won’t even know you’re alive on Monday.”

  “Maybe not,” Sue admitted. “But he did know I was there last night”

  “Sure, sure.” Cathy’s brown eyes flashed. “But just to make Judy mad. It was an accident he picked on you. Anyone would have done.”

  Sue was glad Cathy left. A few more remarks like that and she wouldn’t feel able to live through the day. Cathy could be right, though. Dave probably had picked her by accident. What if he’d chosen Cathy instead? She was cute and little with real golden-colored hair, and no freckles. In fact, when you came right down to it, she would have been a better choice. The more you thought about it, it was sort of surprising Cathy wasn’t in The Crowd.

  Ellen, now—Sue couldn’t see Dave picking Ellen no matter what. Ellen was chunky. “Solidly built,” as Dad said. Someday, Mom prophesied, Ellen would be a beauty. Right now she was just—Ellen. Good-natured, jolly, a follow-the-leader girl. Cathy could cut you down to size, but Ellen gave you a build-up.

  At supper Sue managed to put away a good meal in spite of her melancholy mood. She was glad when Mom and Dad decided on a movie and left her to sit with Jay and Kit. She read them their favorite stories three times apiece, and after putting them to bed she gave herself up to an evening of listening to the hit tunes on the radio—and reminiscing.

  Sunday morning she was glad to put away her dream of Dave ever calling, and was even enthusiastic when Mom and Dad suggested a picnic at the beach after Sunday school. She had fun making sand castles and digging wading pools for Jay and Kit. It was fun, too, collecting sea shells and watching the sand crabs bury themselves in the wet sand. Fun—and for the first time since the Peppermint Prom she felt like herself again. Wouldn’t Dave’s eyebrows raise if he could see his dancing partner jumping rope with a long piece of seaweed!

  After a lunch with the minimum of sand in the sandwiches, Sue took Jay for a ride on the roller coaster. Then she and Dad tried their luck at a baseball throw. Sue’s throwing arm must have been in good form, because she won a choice of prizes—and picked a tiny mother-of-pearl harmonica that she fastened onto her purse as a charm.

  Now—too soon—it was Monday and time to go to early morning orchestra rehearsal. It was time, too, to take extra pains with her clothes. There wasn’t a wrinkle in her skirt, and the blue blouse, the mirror told her, brought out the blue in her eyes. She’d been saving this blouse for a special occasion. Maybe today was it. If only the sun at the beach hadn’t brought out all those freckles!

  “Hurry right home,” Mom said as Sue picked up her lunch. “I’ve an appointment at the dentist and need you to take care of Jay and Kit.”

  “I will.” Sue felt loaded down as she did every orchestra morning with her violin case and stack of books. She was glad that she was walking to school alone today—Cathy and Ellen weren’t in orchestra. She could sort out her thoughts and plan her actions. Should she be cool and aloof, or gay and friendly? If Dave didn’t talk to her, should she drop a book or something? No, that would be too corny. Better just drift with the day. She shifted her books and violin to a more comfortable position as she climbed the hill to Taft. Once in orchestra there was no time for any more plans.

  First recess arrived, and she was still full of indecision as she moved with the stream of students flowing down the ramp to the playground. If only Cathy and Ellen were in her class. Not that she didn’t like the kids in nine-three, but she’d been going to school with the two girls since kindergarten, and there was something awfully nice about the old and the familiar. Maybe that’s why students were separated from former classmates when they came to Taft Junior High, so that the kids who "graduated" from the town’s six-year schools would mix and make new friends.

  “Has his royal highness spoken?” Cathy asked her as soon as they met in the yard.

  “He’s over there,” Ellen said.

  Sue turned her back deliberately toward the direction to which Ellen pointed. “Don’t,” she begged. “Don’t let him know we even see him.” In desperation she turned attention to her purse. “Look,” she said. “See the cute harmonica charm I won at the beach.” Her voice sounded loud even to her own ears. If only recess were over.

  At noontime, Sue took her lunch out into the yard with dread and anticipation. Dave hadn’t talked to her, but recess was so short. Now there was an hour. Surely—surely he’d at least say. “Hi.” She sat on the low wall with Cathy and Ellen, and they spread open their sandwich bags on their laps. This was their favorite lunch place, and one they usually had to themselves. Sue followed Cathy’s surprised eyes and saw Laura, Judy’s best friend, and s
ome of the other girls in The Crowd coming toward them.

  Laura stopped squarely in front of Sue. “Guess you thought you were something Friday,” she started without any preliminaries. “Just thought I’d tell you Dave and Judy will be going steady again by tonight.”

  Sue felt her face flush as anger rose in her throat. “So?”

  “So you don’t need to bother with wearing new blouses. He won’t even see you.” Laura turned on her heel and walked away, the other girls following her.

  Sue felt the tears sting her eyes. “That-that—" she sputtered, too angry to get the words out.

  “Judy’s scared,” Cathy said flatly. “She’s afraid she won’t be going steady with Dave by tonight. That’s why she sent Laura.”

  “Isn’t it exciting?” piped Ellen. “For a minute I thought you were going to slap Laura.”

  For a minute there, Sue had thought so too. Cathy could be right. Maybe Judy was scared. Maybe Dave hadn’t spoken to her today, either. She glanced around the yard quickly. No. There they were. Judy and Dave. And they looked awfully chummy. Dave wouldn’t "even see her.” Laura had no reason to be so nasty. Right now Sue wished she were home. And she had the whole afternoon to live through.

  In math class, the minutes ticked by even slower than they had at the dance before she met Dave. They weren’t like rubber bands stretching, but like inchworms. Finally dismissal bell rang. Sue didn’t stop to talk to anyone. She gathered up her books and hurried to the orchestra locker for her violin. Waiting on the steps of the auditorium were Ricky and Chester. Today was Cathy and Ellen’s make-up sewing lesson. She had never known the boys to look so good. The safe, the familiar, the known.

  “I’ll take your books,” offered Ricky. “Hear you were quite the girl Friday night. Didn’t even miss me.”

  Sue handed over her books. “Sure I did. Everybody did,” she said glibly.

  Ricky, she discovered as they started down the hill, was in a talkative mood. His brother had brought him a new microscope lens. He’d made some new slides. Near the bottom of the hill Sue saw a figure that made her heart do a flip-flop. Dave—alone. Would he speak? They had to walk right by him.

  He stepped out into the middle of the sidewalk, blocking their way. “I’ll walk you,” he told Sue.

  “But—I’m with——”

  “These guys don’t mind, do you?” Dave looked squarely at Ricky and Chester.

  “Gotta hurry,” Chester said, slipping past and breaking out into almost a run.

  “It’s up to you, Sue,” Ricky said.

  “Okay, Sue, let’s go,” Dave demanded.

  Sue was never quite sure what her answer would have been if she hadn’t seen Judy and Laura at that moment, watching them from across the street. “Okay,” she said, reaching for her books.

  “He’ll take ’em. And this too.” Dave took the violin case out of Sue’s grasp and passed it to Ricky. “Leave them at her house,” he ordered.

  Sue dropped her hands to her side as she looked helplessly from Dave to Ricky. Ricky’s eyes looked angry and his face flushed. He caught Sue’s glance and smiled briefly. “Okay with me, Sue,” he said. He walked off, leaving Dave and Sue standing at the corner.

  “We’ll go have a lemonade,” Dave announced. “Come on. Let’s rush it.”

  Last week, if she’d dreamed of walking home from school with Dave, Sue would have been thrilled. Now there was something not quite right with the picture. Dave had talked to Ricky just as Laura had spoken to her. “You know,” she said. “You—you—I mean I—I——”

  “You know,” Dave interrupted. “You’re going to be a good stutterer.”

  “I don’t usually stutter,” Sue flared. “It’s just that you were so rude.”

  “To those creeps?” Dave sounded astonished.

  “They aren’t creeps,” Sue protested. “They’re my friends.”

  “Oh, come on, let’s not fight. Be nice.” Dave reached for her hand. “Maybe you better have straight syrup instead of a lemonade, to sweeten you up.”

  Be nice. Don’t fight Orders, orders. Dave was good at them. Oh well, maybe she should just enjoy herself. She could apologize to Ricky later.

  The creamery looked as though not another kid could squeeze in when Dave opened the door and elbowed his way through the crowd. The jukebox was blaring, and the laughing and talking of the kids reminded her of the noise at the dance.

  “Hi.” Dave greeted first this person and then that, and in the back booth some of his friends moved over so they could have a seat. Sue sat down stiffly.

  “Make it two lemonades,” Dave shouted over the din. He leaned back and stretched his legs out under the table. “Relax,” he told her.

  And she was just beginning to when she saw Judy and Laura slip out from another booth and approach them.

  “Hi, Dave,” they greeted in unison. Laura’s glance slid over to her, then drifted to another girl in their booth. “Hi, Maxine,” she greeted the other girl pointedly.

  Sue felt Judy’s appraising look. “Cute blouse,” Judy said. “I saw it on the bargain table at the Style Shoppe.”

  “You did?” Sue opened her eyes wide in feigned amazement. “Mom made it.”

  Whatever answer Judy might have given, Dave thwarted. “Hey,” he called, waving his arm. “Hey, George, Mo, where you characters been?”

  The two boys wove their way over to the table. George was the one who had warned her. Sue flushed under his gaze. She looked up at Mo. She’d known him from way back—third grade, in fact. And he’d been leader of The Crowd at Taft—until Dave transferred. Sue never could see why. Back in the lower grades his pranks had always been so mean, but he was big stuff at Taft.

  “Hmmmm,” Mo sneered. “Look who’s out of her league.” He turned to Judy and Laura. “Come on, kids. George and I’ll treat you Cokes.”

  Dave was busy with his lemonade and paid no attention to the four leaving. The other kids in the booth went on with their conversation as though there’d been no interruption. Sue sipped thoughtfully at her straw. Judy was darling-looking, and she had beautiful clothes. She had the kind of figure, too, that set them off. Not tiny like Cathy, not tall like Sue. A just-right size. Her blue-black hair fell in soft, natural waves to her shoulders. Her full lips were colored a brighter red than Sue was ever permitted to use. It gave her added glamour. Absolutely perfect-looking, Sue concluded, if it weren’t for her eyes. Not just because they were close together, but because of a hard, calculating look. Before Dave came to Taft, Judy had been Mo’s girl. That’s the way it was. Judy always went with whoever was on top.

  She glanced over at Maxine. Did she, too, resent Sue’s intrusion into The Crowd? Maxine smiled across at her. “That is a cute blouse,” she said. “You’re lucky your mom can sew.”

  “Cute kid.” Dave patted Sue’s hand, and she could feel the color surge to her face. “Come on, let’s shove off.”

  Dave angled his long legs out of the booth and Sue followed. Out on the sidewalk, she felt quite at ease with her hand in Dave’s. But there was something she should settle right now. She took a deep breath. “Look, Dave,” she started. “Don’t you think you’ve carried this far enough?”

  “What?”

  “Using me to make Judy mad.”

  “Let her burn. It’s good for her.”

  Let her burn? Sure, that was fine—if Judy was the only one to get burned. Sue felt like a pawn in one of Dad’s chess games.

  At the corner, half a block from her home, Dave stopped. “End of the line,” he said.

  Sue felt momentary resentment. When a boy walked you home, he usually took you right to the front door, didn’t he? She looked at Dave. Apparently this was ordinary procedure for him. “Okay,” she said. “See you.” She started down the block.

  “Hey, Sue.”

  She stopped and turned.

  “Phone me tonight.” Dave raised his hand in a salute, then loped across the street.

  Well! Of all the nerve. Girl
s didn’t phone boys, according to the code at her house. Not if Mom or Dad had anything to say about it. With a rueful grin she hurried on home.

  “Hi, Mom,” she called as she opened the front door. “Guess what?”

  She spotted her books and violin on a chair. “Hi, Mom,” she called again. Then with a flash of remembering, she knew Mom wasn’t home. There was that dental appointment. Mom took Jay and Kit to the dentist with her? Oh no! Sue sighed. Now she was really in for it!

  3.

  Family Council

  Sue grabbed up her books and violin and hurried to her room. She’d change, set the table for supper, and get started on her practicing. Maybe, then, Mom wouldn’t be too angry. But taking those two live wires, Jay and Kit, to the dentist would be no picnic. Mom would probably come home more crisped than when she left. Oh well, might as well try. She slipped quickly into shirt and jeans and remembered to hang up her blouse and skirt. When she got down to the kitchen she saw the note. It was just one word printed in blue crayon on one of those cardboards the laundry put in Dad’s shirts. Mom usually saved them for Jay’s and Kit’s scribbling. “THANKS,” the card said. Just that. “THANKS.” Mom was mad.

  As she set the table, Sue worried over what Mom would say. At least she’d make sure the table was completely set so there’d be no "where are’s" during the meal. After a double check, she raced up the stairs to start her practicing. A half dozen times through on her finger exercises and she had them down pat. There was something about the last exercise that reminded her of the fast numbers at the Peppermint Prom. Slowly, cautiously her fingers found the notes of the newest hit tune. She played it faster, more surely the second time through, and then—and then—she really whizzed through it. Pretty good, even if she did think so herself. That piece would always remind her, most likely, of the Peppermint Prom—and Dave Young.

  “Well!”

  Sue dropped her bow she was so startled. “Mom, oh, Mom.” She jumped up, almost knocking the music stand over. “I’m sorry I forgot. Honest.”

  The left side of Mom’s face looked stiff as she smiled at Sue. “It was a pretty serious bit of forgetting, Sue.”