The Pink Dress

by Anne Alexander

  “Hey, aren’t you finished yet?” Jay shoved at Sue’s arm.

  “Sure, all done.” Sue placed the model on the table.

  “Now a duck and a caterpillar,” demanded Kit.

  “And a plane and a butterfly,” added Jay.

  “And a cat and a boat and a dog and an elephant, I suppose,” finished Sue. She planted a kiss on Kit’s nose and ruffed Jay’s hair. “But you kids have to do some of the work.” She picked up a piece of yellow clay.

  “Company, Sue.”

  “Oh no!” Sue dropped the clay and hid her hands behind her as she saw Mom at the door with Dave. She gave an embarrassed laugh.

  “Hi.” Dave looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt.

  “Sue’s making clay things,” Jay announced. “Can you make a plane?”

  “Oh, Jay,” Sue said desperately. “Hush.”

  Dave gave Sue a half smile. “You think I can’t?” he asked. He sauntered over to the table. “To tell the truth, I’m known as the best jet plane modeler in the country.” He sat down beside Sue and picked up some clay. “What model, boy?” he asked.

  “Any kind,” Jay answered. “My name’s Jay,” he added.

  Sue watched Dave work the clay. In a matter of seconds he laid the model before Jay. “Okay?” he asked.

  “Yeeeeeeeeoooooooow.” Jay put the jet through a power dive.

  “You’re gooder than Sue,” Kit adjudged. “But I love my bunny,” she added loyally.

  There was no stopping Dave then. He modeled planes, ships, pigs, horses, even the elephant and butterfly. And just when they had the last bit of clay used up and would have to demolish a model or two to make something new, Mom came to the door with what Sue thought was perfect timing.

  “Dinner,” Mom announced. “We’ve set a place for you, Dave, if you care to stay.”

  Sue saw Dave’s face color slightly. “Meat loaf and scalloped potatoes,” she whispered to him.

  “I-well, I—”

  “He’s nice. He’ll stay,” Jay stated.

  “He’s my friend.” Kit slipped her hand into Dave’s. “He wants to have dinner with me.”

  “Well Dave?”

  Dave’s face was still a dull red. “Yes—that is, if it’s no brother.”

  “The phone’s over there.” Mom pointed. “And you all better wash the clay off your hands.”

  Most of the families Sue knew didn’t say grace before meals. She wondered if Dave would think them peculiar. It was Jay’s turn to give the blessing, and Sue was grateful when she heard Dave’. “Amen" join the others.

  For a while the meal went awkwardly. There was that moment of silence when a slice of tomato skidded from Dave’s plate onto the tablecloth. Sue again had the sensation of perfect timing when Kit chose that moment to knock over her glass of milk. And while Mom mopped up the milk Dave retrieved his tomato almost unnoticed.

  After that the tension seemed relieved. Sue admired the way Dad drew Dave out. Jay told about the jet Dave made, and the "men" started talking about planes. Dave, it seemed, loved making models—even had one with an engine. Jay listened so hard he had to be reminded to eat. And Mom flashed Sue a smile that said, “Men! Funny creatures, aren’t they?”

  Sue and Dave washed and dried the dishes while Mom gave Jay and Kit their baths and got them ready for bed. The two worked together without talking, with just the music from the kitchen radio breaking the silence. It wasn’t because they didn’t have anything to say. It just seemed better that way.

  When the last dish was in the cupboard, Sue led Dave into the living room. Dad was going to read Kit and Jay their good-night stories, and tonight was The Little Engine That Could. Sue knew it was childish of her but she never tired of hearing it.

  Funny, Sue reflected as Dad’s voice rose and fell over the click of Mom’s knitting needles, Dave seemed so gentle tonight. It was a description she’d never have identified with him before.

  “Okay,” said Mom as the engine finally steamed down the other side of the mountain. “Time for bed, you two.”

  “Kiss,” demanded Kit as Jay gravely shook hands with Dave.

  Dave’s arm drew Kit close as he leaned his face over for the kiss. “You’re some cutie-pie,” Sue heard him whisper.

  “My biggest bear hug,” Kit announced as she finally released Dave. She bounced around the room, collecting the rest of her good-night kisses and then was off up the stairs.

  Dave had such a strange, faraway look on his face that Sue wondered if she should speak. “Do you want to look at TV with Dad—or come into the playroom and hear my new records,” she finally said.

  “Records.” Dave stood up and followed Sue into the playroom.

  Sue gestured to her rack. “Take your pick.”

  Dave handed her a record. She was sure he hadn’t even read the label. As the music blared forth, she sat on a chair arm. Dave leaned against the doorway. Now the lack of words seemed uncomfortable.

  “That Kit!” Dave spoke finally. “She’s some little kid. Reminds me, I guess, of my sister.”

  “Oh.” Sue was surprised. She’d thought Dave was an only child.

  “She’s dead.” Dave’s voice was low. “She and Mom—they were killed two years ago in an auto accident. They were going back East to visit my grandmother.”

  “I’m "sorry.” Sue knew the words were inadequate, but she couldn’t think of a thing else to say.

  “Once—once we had a life sort of like yours.” Dave’s voice cracked, and Sue wondered frantically if he were going to cry. She’d never seen a boy cry. Not a big boy. What would she do?

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured again.

  “Yeah—most people are. Not my dad, though. He gets himself married again.” The bitterness in Dave’s words was a hurting thing.

  “Maybe—well, maybe he just wanted to make a home for you again.”

  “Oh, sure. That’s why he marries some dame just ten years older than me? He doesn’t even remember my mother and sister any more. But I do. I always will.” Dave reached for his wallet and flipped it open. “Here.”

  Sue studied the pictures. They both looked so much like Dave. She closed the wallet and handed it back. “I don’t think he’s forgotten,” she said slowly. “He couldn’t. It’s just that—well, something about life having to go on, I guess.”

  “Yeah?” The sneer on Dave’s face made him almost ugly. “Once it was the four of us together. Now it’s two against one. Him and her against me.”

  Sue turned to the player and flipped over the record. She swallowed hard. What could she possibly say?

  “How’d you like it to happen to you?” Dave went on. “How’d you like a stepmother?”

  Sue felt her eyes widen as she watched Dave’s face. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t even bear to-think about it.”

  Dave’s face looked so lost, he looked so defenseless, Sue felt engulfed by the sadness of it. If only the right words would come.

  “Sorry.” Dave took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to get so sloppy. It’s just that Kit reminds me of Sis.” He picked up the player arm and started the record again. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  Sue was glad to dance, glad to get away from the hurt look in Dave’s eyes. The next record Dave picked was a fast one. They finished in a mad whirl of music. Sue selected a record this time. “My dad’s favorite,” she said as the lilting notes of. “Stardust" filled the room. They danced slowly this time, hardly moving about the floor. Dave’s arm tightened around Sue and his shirt felt cool against her cheek. Then he stopped dancing and dropped his hands to his side. Sue stepped back, wondering.

  “Susan.” Dave’s voice dropped to a whisper in its seriousness. “Susan, will you go steady with me now? Be my girl really?

  Sue nodded, unable to speak. She hadn’t expected this. She remembered that other time—at the Peppermint Prom. But this time he was asking her because he liked her. Not because he was mad at Judy.

  Dave unfastened his ID br
acelet and put it on Sue’s wrist. She held out her arm, looking at the bracelet.

  “Looks good, huh?” Dave remarked.

  Sue agreed. It looked good. It felt good.

  “Let’s dance to celebrate.” Dave took her hand and pulled her toward him.

  “Wait.” Sue broke away and dashed into the kitchen. She picked up her purse and unfastened the tiny harmonica. She held it tight in her hand as she walked back into the playroom.

  “Well?” Dave looked at her questioningly.

  Sue felt a wave of shyness sweep over her. To hand the harmonica to Dave suddenly seemed silly.

  “What did you dash off for?” Dave persisted.

  “ I —" Sue groped for an excuse. “Oh, I just had a stupid idea,” she blurted. “I thought maybe you’d like this for your key chain or something.” She held the tiny harmonica toward him almost defiantly.

  “Say.” Dave took the small object and examined it minutely. He took a practice blow. “Say, this is swell.” He reached in his pocket, drew out his key chain, and fastened the harmonica to it. “Looks good, huh?”

  It did look nice. Sue nodded her agreement.

  “This calls for a celebration. Let’s get a real hot number.” Dave flipped over a few records, selected one, and at the first beat he drew Sue to him and they danced. When the last notes died away, Sue dropped exhausted on the davenport. Dave looked down at her, laughing.

  “Cream puff,” he teased. “Party pooper.”

  “Guess I am,” Sue admitted.

  “No.” Sue heard Mom at the door. “I’m the guilty party this time. It’s eight-thirty.”

  “Curfew time for guests,” Sue explained. “And I haven’t quite finished my homework.”

  She watched Dave walk down the sidewalk. He paused at the hedge and waved. Was it a kiss he blew to her, she wondered? Back in the living room she stood silent a moment, not knowing quite how to begin.

  “Nice fellow,” Dad commented. “Not what I expected.”

  Sue took courage from his words. “Look,” she said. “Dave’s bracelet. We’re going steady. Okay?” She felt as though she were standing tiptoe on the brink of something as she looked from Mom to Dad. What would they say? Would they think it funny? Would they say she was “too young”?

  “Guess our little girl is growing up,” Dad said finally.

  “Guess so,” echoed Mom.

  They were giving their okay! Sue felt a rush of tenderness for her parents surge through her. She gave Dad a big hug. “I love you,” she said simply. “I love you both very, very much.” She grinned at the tremor in her voice. “I’ll finish my homework now,” she concluded. At the stairway she stopped and turned toward the living room. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being so nice to Dave. He needs it.”

  It would have been easy to just think about Dave, but Sue resolutely put thoughts of him away as she parsed sentences at her desk. When the last sentence was completed it was time for bed.

  The bracelet felt good against her cheek as she snuggled down in the blankets. Dave. Dave Young. That was a nice name. It had a nice, clean sound to it.

  She relived the evening, step by step. How’d you like it to happen to you? Terror gripped her. She slipped out of bed and padded quickly down the hall. She looked down on Jay and Kit so deep in their dreams. She bent over and kissed them gently. If anything ever happened to them . . . if anything ever happened to Mom or Dad . . . Poor Dave. Poor lonely Dave. Sue retraced her steps to her room. Mom always said time healed all things. Dave would need a lot of it. Maybe she and Kit could somehow help. . . . Sue left the door wide open and slipped into bed again. The soft murmur of Mom and Dad talking downstairs was a comforting warm sound. . . .

  9.

  The Decision

  For the next week, Sue felt as if she were riding on her own private pink cloud. Wearing Dave’s ID brought her firmly within The Crowd. And Judy didn’t seem to mind—she was going steady with Mo now.

  Sue had tried to restore her friendship with Cathy and Ellen. She’d made a point of going up to them, showing them the bracelet. But somehow she sounded as though she was bragging, and Ellen’s response was hardly friendly. It was a relief when Maxine dragged Sue away. Ricky and Chester maintained what Mom would have called a bare nodding acquaintance.

  At the beginning of the week, Sue had received her official invitation to join the Jay Dees. With it had been instructions for initiation. She’d worn socks that didn’t match, her sweater and skirt backwards; she’d done her hair in two pony tails tied with different-colored ribbons—and now, today, she wore a jacket with big pockets. She and Maxine had a “pilgrimage” to make. Just what it was Sue couldn’t imagine. Tonight she’d be initiated. That meant forgoing the show with Dave, but he seemed pleased that she was going to be a Jay Dee. In fact, he was going on a trip with his dad for the weekend.

  Sue was glad Maxine had been chosen as her “big sister” during initiation. Of all the girls in The Crowd, she liked Maxine best. And tonight’s meeting would be at Maxine’s.

  Dismissal bell rang and Sue ran down the ramp.

  “All set?” Maxine’s round face beamed.

  Sue nodded. “But why all the mystery? Just what is the ‘pilgrimage’ anyway?”

  Maxine gave an excited giggle. “You’ll find out when we get to the Avenue,” she promised.

  Sue felt her spirits sink. It was bad enough to do whacky things around school. But on the Avenue! Oh well, other kids had been initiated, too, and being a Jay Dee would be worth it. She fell in step with Maxine.

  “You know,” Maxine confided as they walked along, “now that you’re going to be a Jay Dee, maybe we can be best friends.”

  “Why——” Sue groped for the right answer.

  “I’m not pretty like the others. And I know I’m not exciting—or——”

  “I’d like to be best friends,” Sue interrupted firmly. “I like you the best anyway.”

  Maxine almost wriggled with her delight. “Super,” she said. “That’s super.”

  There was something almost pitiful about Maxine’s eagerness to “be friends,” Sue thought. Maxine didn’t seem to have any real friends, she reflected. In The Crowd she was a sort of flunky—the one who ran errands. Was it because she was too appreciative of being allowed in the group?

  “Here we are.” Maxine stopped in front of the variety store. “And here’s your list.” She handed Sue a scrap of paper.

  Sue read it. Lipstick, bobby pins, candy bar, ball-point pen.

  “I’ll wait here while you get ’em,” Maxine said. “They’re the things Judy wants.”

  Sue reread the list. It didn’t make sense. Why should she get things for Judy? “I don’t have any money,” she said flatly.

  “We know. That’s the idea.” Maxine’s eyes were wide blue pools of excitement. “You have to ‘lift’ them.”

  “You mean steal? Steal this stuff for Judy?” Sue frowned in her astonishment. The idea of stealing for anyone was—was appalling. It was frightening, too.

  “Pooh.” Maxine shrugged. “There’s nothing the store would miss. You should have seen my list.”

  “You stole things?”

  “It’s the final test. It means you’ll do anything for the Jay Dees.”

  “The Jay Dees or Judy?”

  “Judy takes things, too. She swiped a record for Dave once.”

  Sue handed the list back to Maxine. “Well, I’m out. Guess I won’t be a Jay Dee after all.”

  “Come on.” Maxine tried to press the list back into Sue’s hand. “Don’t be like this. Please. I want you in the club so badly. It won’t hurt anyone. Look, if you feel guilty, why not add up what the loot costs—and put the money in one of those charity jars later or something.”.

  “No.”

  “Please. Please, just so we can be best friends?”

  “No.”

  “It’s not really wrong. Just a sort of dangerous challenge. It’s like winning at a game.” Maxine’s
eyes as well as her voice were pleading now. “For me?”

  “Not for you—or for Judy—or to be a Jay Dee. Not for anything.” Sue’s voice had risen slightly, and Maxine looked around furtively.

  “Shhh,” cautioned Maxine. “Look over there. Judy’s looking. Please—at least come in the store with me for a minute.”

  Sue followed Maxine’s gaze. Judy raised her hand in a salute and Maxine followed suit. Sue didn’t even bother to smile. She looked back at Maxine. For some reason Maxine looked almost scared. “Okay, I’ll go in the store with you,” Sue agreed.

  The girls sauntered around the store, looking at this and that. Sue felt positively stupid. She picked up a swatch of hair and tried it on before a mirror. She giggled at her reflection. “You like me as a redhead?” she asked.

  Maxine came over and her smile was indulgent. Sue saw the manager eye them and was desperately grateful she wasn’t in the store “swiping.” His gaze was a most penetrating one. Maxine had moved on to another counter and Sue joined her. “Want to go now?” Maxine said finally.

  Sue was glad to get out of the store. Judy was gone. “I’m sorry,” she said to Maxine. “Can’t we be best friends—even though I’m not a Jay Dee?”

  “You will be.” Maxine grinned. “All the things are in your pocket.”

  Sue stopped short. “What? What did you say?”

  “You’ve got ‘em all in your pockets. I put them there for you.” Maxine looked pleased and proud at her accomplishment.

  Sue put her hand into one pocket and then the other. She drew out the lipstick, the bobby pins, the ball-point pen. Yes, even the candy bar was there. She dropped them back as if they burned. She hadn’t taken them, but here she was with stolen goods. “Maxine,” she wailed. “You—you——”

  Maxine laughed. “I didn’t mind. We just won’t tell Judy how you got them.”

  “You don’t understand. You don’t understand at all.” There was shock and wonder in Sue’s voice.

  “Sure I do.” Maxine dragged at Sue’s jacket. “Let’s get going. You didn’t want to swipe things, so I did it for you. We just won’t tell Judy. We won’t tell anyone.”