“It’s a goody,” said Laura. “Just like our club is.”
When they reached her home, Laura repeated Judy’s farewells as though she were a ditto machine. Sue saw Dad beam at the compliment. Then Laura turned to Sue. “Remember, Jay Dee,” she said. And she, too, ran her finger across her throat.
“Beats me,” Dad said as they drove off. “When I was a kid, that wasn’t a particularly friendly gesture.”
It isn’t now, either, Sue wanted to confess. But Judy and Laura had sealed her lips.
Mom greeted them at the door. “Well, honey, have fun?” she asked, and then went on without waiting for Sue’s answer. “I guess we were wrong, Dad, about Sue not belonging.”
“They’re nice kids,” Dad said. “Especially that Judy. She’s a real charmer.”
Mom smiled. “Well, if it’s what Sue wants——”Her voice trailed off. “But I do wish you would still be friends with Cathy and Ellen. I’m so fond of them.” She patted. Sue on the arm. “I must confess I miss those two.”
I do too, Sue thought, oh I do, too. So very, very much. But tonight she had severed the ties. Irrevocably. There was no going back. She was alone—so very much alone. If only she could tell Mom and Dad. But no. If she did, they’d make her drop Jay Dees—and then—well, Judy’s threat was still there, a big, gigantic thing.
“Cocoa, Jay Dee?” Mom asked.
Sue shook her head. “We had refreshments at Maxine’s.” She yawned elaborately. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”
11.
Nightmare
“No, no, don’t,” Sue screamed. “Don’t.” But the monster came nearer with a chortling, evil laugh. Its eyes blazed cruelly. She clutched the crumbling rock frantically, but the monster leered at her and pried her fingers loose. And then she was hurtling, down—down—down—with the monster’s high, shrill, girl laugh following her. “No,” she screamed again as she swirled into black nothingness and knew she was going to hit bottom. At that instant she jerked awake and lay shaking in her bed, her breath coming rapidly, the sobs still inside her.
Another nightmare! She’d had them all night long. Last time she awoke it was still dark. Now her clock said six. This was Saturday, and it would be at least two hours before anyone else in the house stirred. She didn’t want to go back to sleep. She drew a long, shuddering breath and sat up. She shook her head, trying to clear away the last vestige of the dream—of the monster with Judy’s laugh and eyes.
Should she read—or turn on the radio? No. She might fall asleep again. Sue swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked softly to the window. The sun was casting a few rays across the lawn, and the dew on the grass sparkled like silver and gold beads. She’d mow the lawn, that’s what she’d do. She slipped into her old pedal pushers and sneakers. She pulled a sweater over her head. As she started to close the closet door, her pink dress caught her eyes. Lovely, lovely pink dress—a sort of early morning cloud pink. She’d had a lovely, lovely time the evening she’d worn it, too. Dave. She let herself feel the smooth, clean pinkness of it. Could you really feel pink? And then she resolutely closed the door. Quietly she let herself out into the garage and rolled the lawn mower across the driveway.
The grass was so wet, Sue slipped off her sneakers. The dew was shivery cold against her bare feet. It felt good. No nightmares here in a new morning. Here was the energetic reality of pushing the mower across the lawn. But there was also the reality of last night’s meeting. She was a Jay Dee—and she was afraid.
As she worked on, Sue began to wonder if maybe she’d just imagined Judy’s eyes were cold and relentless, or blazing with cruelty. Nothing would really happen. Judy just liked to talk big. Lots of people were like that. Bragging, boasting, threatening—and doing nothing. Wasn’t there something about a bark being worse than a bite? Besides, you couldn’t prove something that wasn’t—or could you? Sue hadn’t taken anything from the store but would the manager believe it? She shivered. She could almost hear Judy. Maybe something will happen to someone—someone you like.
Sue gave a violent push at the lawn mower. Ask Chester what happened to his Sunday suit one night. All right, she would. She’d do just that. She’d ask Chester. She’d call Judy’s bluff. But why—why did she have this funny feeling that maybe Dave was involved? Judy hadn’t said so. Hadn’t even hinted. Was it just because he was a member of the male half of The Crowd? Or was it because Ricky and Chester evaded her these days?
Oh well, pretty soon she’d know. Chester would tell her. Sue sighed with relief. Now she’d decided. Now she had a plan of action. She tackled the lawn again with fresh vigor. It was always better to know than to guess.
She had almost finished clipping the edges before Sue heard signs of life from the house. She heard the window in her parents’ room go up. As she looked up, Dad waved a greeting.“Hey, early bird,” he said, “what are you after—worms? Come on in for breakfast.”
Worms. She shuddered, remembering initiation, but she laid aside the edgers, picked up her sneakers, and went around to the kitchen door.
“Mom,” Sue said as she attacked her second waffle. “I want to call Chester after breakfast.”
“Why certainly, dear.”
“Well, I thought maybe that business of not calling boys—”
“If it’s a business call—”
“It is, sort of.”
“Then of course you may, dear, after you’ve done your chores.”
Sue worked through her jobs stolidly, glad to be doing something, yet anxious to know. At last she was ready. She dialed the number swiftly. She listened to the rings—one—two—three—four—they just couldn’t be out. And then she heard Mrs. Duval’s prim “Hello.”
“Chester? Oh, my dear, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Duval purred sweetly into Sue’s ear. “He’s at the library. I’ll tell him you called. He’ll be so disappointed.”
Not half as much as I am thought Sue as she hung up the receiver. Now there was nothing to do but wait—or go to the library. And she couldn’t stand to wait.
Chester was alone at the table with books stacked in three piles before him when Sue slipped into a chair beside him. “Hi, Chester,” she greeted.
Chester looked up, startled. “Why—hi.”
“Working on something?” Sue knew her question was inane when obviously he was doing just that.
“Yes. Our science report. I’m looking up planets. Is that why you’re here—to work on yours?”
“No.” Sue drew a doodle on the table with her finger. “I came up just to see you.”
“Me?” Chester’s eyes squinted as he looked at her, puzzled. “Why?”
“I—well, this is a sort of silly thing, but someone said something about your Sunday suit.” Sue kept her gaze on her fingers as she spoke.
“Sunday suit?” Chester sounded scared, and Sue glanced at him quickly. “You heard about my Sunday suit?”
“Not—well, not exactly. I was just told to ask about it.”
“By who?” Chester’s eyes had a wary, evasive look about them.
“Whom,” Sue corrected automatically. “By Judy,” she went on. “She mentioned it last night. Was there something?”
Chester seemed to swallow with an effort. He forgot to keep his voice at a whisper. “Go away,” he demanded. “Go away and leave me alone. You’re Dave’s girl. You belong to The Crowd. Forget you know me. Now scram.” He reached for a book and started leafing furiously through the pages, but his glance kept darting around the room.
“There was something about your Sunday suit.” Sue spoke slowly, measuring her words. “I guess maybe it had something to do with Judy. I can’t see what there is about a suit to scare anybody, though.”
“Go away.” Chester sounded frantic now.
“Did Dave have anything to do with a Sunday suit? Your suit?”
“Go away,” Chester repeated. Sue felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up. The librarian stood there.
“What’s the trouble, you two? Don’t
you believe in signs? Any more noise, and you’ll have to leave.”
“It’s my fault.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “I’ll leave.” As she pushed open the door, Sue shot a final glance at Chester. He huddled over the table as though he were trying to be as small and inconspicuous as possible. Now what?
Sue felt a slump in her own back as she walked down the sidewalk. All this way and she’d found out—nothing! But no, that wasn’t quite accurate. She’d found out there was something about Chester’s Sunday suit. But what? This was positively silly, getting worked up about a suit. It was silly, too, to have it emerge as a sort of sinister mystery.
The suit involved Judy—and The Crowd. Dave, too, probably. Funny she’d heard nothing about it. Chester was usually a blabber mouth. Had it—whatever “it” was—happened lately? Or a long time ago? Before she’d started going with Dave, that was for sure.
Ricky would know. Even though Chester hadn’t mentioned anything to Sue or Cathy or Ellen, he’d have told Ricky. Sue retraced her steps past the library and turned down Ricky’s street. Rick had never failed her yet.
Ricky had the hose going full force against the car as Sue approached his house. He turned the water onto the sidewalk, dangerously close to her feet. “What’s doing, Sue?” he asked, with his perpetual broad grin lighting his face.
Sue felt her spirits rise. This was like old times—being around a teasing, fun-loving Ricky. “Bet I beat you on ambition,” she answered. “I’ve already mowed our lawn.”
Ricky reached over and turned off the water. “And now you’re going to help me wash the car. We missed you at the show last night.”
“Cathy and Ellen went?” It was more of a question than a statement.
Rick nodded. “Going to help with the car, Sue?”
She made a face at him. “I’m not that ambitious. I’m just out for information.”
“You came to the right source. Know-it-all Rick. That’s me.” Rick’s grin gave Sue a confident, warm feeling. “Ask on.”
Suddenly Sue didn’t want to ask on. She wanted things to be just as they were. She wanted Ricky to stay the same kidding, jolly boy. If she asked, it would mean—what? This was like diving off a big high board into a pool, and she hated diving. She took a deep breath. “It’s about Chester,” she said. “I want to know about his Sunday suit.”
“Sunday suit?” Ricky’s grin faded, but his tone was still light. “Now what ever made you ask about a suit, of all things?”
“Not ‘a suit,’ Ricky, Chester’s Sunday suit. Don’t evade,” Sue pleaded. “Something happened about Chester’s Sunday suit. And I want to know what.”
“Aren’t Chester’s clothes his business?”
I guess so.
“Then ask him. It’s his business. Not mine.”
“I did, Ricky, and—and he just looks scared.”
“Well, now I’m looking scared.”
“Ricky!” Sue felt like stamping her foot. “Stop evading me. I want to know. I’ve got to know. It has something to do with The Crowd. I want to know what.”
“I’ll tell you just one thing, Susan Stevens.” Ricky’s voice was grim. “Stay away from The Crowd.”
“I’m a Jay Dee, Ricky. I can’t.”
Ricky looked at her as though he had difficulty letting the words sink in.
“Stevens,” he said finally. “I didn’t believe you could be so dumb.” He paused a moment. “The only thing for you to do now is resign.”
“I can’t, Rick.”
“That’s stupid to say. You can if you want to. You’re your own boss.”
Didn’t she wish she was! If only she could explain to Ricky. “I can’t,” she repeated.
Ricky took a deep breath. “I hate to say this, Sue,” he said, his gaze a somber, steady thing. “If you’re a Jay Dee then stay away from me. I just don’t want to get mixed up—or messed up.” His gaze dropped. “All my life I’ve wanted to be a doctor. I’m not taking any chances.”
His words were like a slap across the face. “You’re the one who’s being stupid,” Sue blazed at him. “Stupid and dumb.” She felt her face flush and her eyes fill with tears. “You—you—" she started, then she spun on her heel and raced down the street.
Ellen . . . Cathy . . . Chester . . . and now Ricky. They were all against her. Just because she was a Jay Dee. Just because she’d been accepted—and they hadn’t. Jealous, that’s what they were. She’d show them. She’d be the best Jay Dee ever. But Chester and Ricky—they weren’t really jealous. They were scared. Of what? Were they afraid—just as she’d been last night? Chester’s Sunday suit! What was the mystery? Only one person to ask now—Dave. The boys in The Crowd—had they threatened Chester—and maybe Ricky—as Judy had threatened her? Was Dave involved? Mo, now, she could see Mo doing mean things. She knew he did them. And she knew how, when his parents had been summoned to school about them, they’d just said “boys will be boys.” But Dave—not Dave. Not the Dave who made clay planes for Jay and pigs for Kit. The Dave who hated his dad and stepmother?
As Sue approached her own block, she saw Mrs. Cannon working in the yard again.
“Hello, there, Sue.” Mrs. Cannon sounded as friendly as though there’d been no trouble between them.
“Hi.” Sue kept her voice merely polite.
“Some friends were by looking for you.” Mrs. Cannon’s squinty eyes sparkled. “Your new friends—Judy and Laura they said their names were.”
“Oh?”
“I told them you were probably with that handsome Dave—or your old pal, Ricky.”
Sue managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Cannon,” she said. She hurried on. Judy and Laura. Why had they come by? Were they checking up on her? Why was she so—so scared? Was this the way Ricky felt about The Crowd?
12.
Dinner Date
Waiting and worrying were no fun at all. Sue thought Monday would never come. On Monday she could ask Dave. Mom had shed no light on the reason for Judy’s and Laura’s visit, and they neither returned nor did they phone. Even Maxine didn’t call. Maybe she was embarrassed over the meeting. If only Dave were home. It seemed almost too much that this weekend should be the one on which Dave’s dad decided to take him along on his sales trip.
“Just wanted to get me out of Alison’s hair, I guess,” Dave had said when he told Sue of the trip.
Sue looked puzzled.
“My stepmother,” Dave explained.
“Why can’t you think he wants you along because you’re you?” Sue asked. Dave’s negative attitude toward his dad bothered her.
Dave shrugged. “I’d rather stay home so I could see you.
Now—now Sue wished he had.
By Monday morning Sue felt ready to burst. She gathered up her books and violin and started off to school. She’d see Dave at lunch time. But she’d reckoned without the Jay Dees. At lunch time they enveloped her. Maxine insisted she join the gang and talk. And Dave seemed to be equally enveloped by the male gang. Was it deliberate, this keeping Dave and her apart? Maybe she wouldn’t even see him after school.
When classes were over and Sue had retrieved her violin from the music room, she was almost afraid to look to see if Dave were waiting. But there he was, leaning against the street sign.
“Sue Stevens,” he said, and his face broke into a delighted grin. “I missed you.” He took her violin case from her hand. “But I sure had fun,” he added. “It was just like old times.” He reached for her hand. “I’ll tell you all about it.”
For the first time since she’d known him, Sue found herself outtalked. Dave went into minute descriptions of every place he’d seen, every meal he’d eaten. Sue was reduced to mere exclamations of surprise or delight. Dave talked on and on. There was no stopping at the creamery. He talked her right up to the front door; right into the kitchen, as a matter of fact, where he launched into a fresh description of his trip—this time for Mom.
Sue sat and watched, enjoying every minute. This
was such a gay, happy Dave. A Dave she’d never really met before. All too soon it was time for Dave to go home. It wasn’t until she’d shut the door behind him that Sue remembered she hadn’t even mentioned initiation—or Chester’s Sunday suit. When he phoned that evening, she still didn’t mention it. Asking him face to face would be so much better. By Tuesday evening Sue faced up to the fact that she didn’t want to know. Dave, as he was right now, was just right. And it couldn’t make any difference—not really—what had gone before.
The days that followed were so calm and serene that Sue sometimes wondered if maybe she hadn’t imagined the initiation—and Judy’s threat. If only Cathy and Ellen and Chester and Ricky could be friends with her. But there was a security in belonging to The Crowd. The girls were fun, too, even though she never felt close to them. Maxine was a devoted best friend. Even more so than Ellen or Cathy had been. She was so willing to fall in with any of Sue’s suggestions that she wondered if Maxine did have a mind of her own. Judy—Sue knew she’d never be friends with Judy. She didn’t want to. But they had a sort of truce, she and Judy.
Life fell into pretty much of a pattern. Dave walked her home from school every day. Sometimes they stopped at the creamery. Dave would stay for dinner at Sue’s house at least once a week. And Jay and Kit were just wild about him. Mom and Dad seemed to like him, too, and sometimes Sue would wonder when this dreamy, perfect time would end—when Dave would say he liked another girl.
And then one night Dave asked Sue to have dinner at his home. “I know you probably don’t want to. It’s really all Alison’s fault. She says I can’t go on mooching meals off your folks unless you have dinner at our house sometimes.” The old bitterness had crept into Dave’s voice. “Dad agrees.”
“Tomorrow,” Dave said when he asked Mom. “If it’s all right with you.”
“Of course, Dave.”
“We want to go too,” Jay announced.
“Not this time.” Mom gave Jay a swat on his jeans. “This is strictly Sue’s party.”
“It’s not a party, Mrs. Stevens.” Dave sounded shocked.
The Pink Dress Page 9