by Diane Hoh
THE NEWS THAT STEPHANIE Markham had died under “suspicious circumstances” was released to the public early the following morning.
In spite of that bombshell, classes at Toomey High were held as scheduled, although it was announced during homeroom that there would be no school on the following day, Friday, to allow the victim’s classmates to attend her funeral service. No one, not even the rowdiest students who hadn’t given Stephanie’s fate a second thought, shouted “Hooray!” at the announcement.
A somber, fearful silence had fallen over the entire school. Stephanie’s closest friends trailed through the halls with pale, sometimes tear-streaked faces. Beth, Stephanie’s best friend, had chosen to stay home, as had Michael.
There were, of course, those students who were not quite as shattered.
At lunch, Margaret had expected to talk about the terrible event of the day before, especially now that the whole town knew Stephanie’s death hadn’t been accidental.
Instead, they’d only been seated in the unusually quiet, yellow-walled cafeteria a few minutes when Lacey asked eagerly, “So, who do you think Michael will take to the prom now?”
Margaret gasped. Her sandwich, halfway to her mouth, came to an abrupt halt in midair. “What did you say?”
Lacey didn’t flinch. “I said, who do we think Michael will ask to the prom now? I mean, he’s not going to miss his own prom, right? Might even be king this year, if he asks the right girl.”
“I’m sure he’ll get it. He’d make a great king.” Caroline agreed. She had tried another new hairdo, this one an upsweep, but by mid-morning it was already coming undone, a bird’s nest caught in a hurricane. She had tried to repair the damage with bobby pins. Two girls at a table behind them were pointing at Caroline, and whispering and giggling. Unaware, Caroline continued, “Who is going to be queen this year? Not that I care, of course, since I probably won’t be there. But everyone seemed to think that Stephanie was a sure thing. Who else is there?”
“Beth hasn’t been queen yet,” Jeannine said. “And I like her the best of the Pops.”
“Never mind the queen,” Lacey said irritably. “It’s the kings we should be interested in. I personally think that Michael Danz is much cuter than Lucas Nelson. Besides, Michael is available now and Lucas isn’t. He’s Beth’s date.” She grinned. “Michael smiled at me at the picnic, during the softball game. When Stephanie wasn’t around, of course,” she added hastily.
Margaret had been stricken speechless by Lacey’s callousness. Now, she found her voice. It slid from her mouth quietly, but it was laced with pure acid. “Lacey, has Michael Danz ever once in his life said hello to you? Has he ever given a single sign that he is even aware of your existence on this planet?” She knew it was cruel. But Margaret felt no remorse. How could Lacey be so clueless? How insensitive did you have to be to drool over a boy whose girlfriend had been dead less than twenty-four hours?
Insensitive enough, apparently, not to be wounded by Margaret’s unkind questions. Lacey didn’t even redden. “Just that smile yesterday. And that could have been because I caught a pop fly that helped out our team. But there’s always hope. And I’m not the only one who’s thinking this way, Margaret. No one at this table has a date for her own senior prom. We all know that the pretty, popular girls already have dates, so Michael isn’t going to have a lot to choose from. And if there is anyone at this table not hoping he’ll choose her, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“I’m not,” Margaret said, keeping her eyes on her sandwich. This didn’t seem like the best moment in the world to tell them she was going, but she didn’t want them finding out from someone else. “Mitch McGill asked me last night.”
All three faces went blank. Caroline stared at Margaret. “Asked you what?”
“Asked me to the prom.” Margaret was grateful that people around them had begun talking. The buzz of conversation, though it was quieter than usual, might keep everyone in the room from overhearing her friends’ reaction to what she had just told them.
“The Mitch McGill?” Lacey repeated. “Asked you to go to the prom with him?”
Annoyed, Margaret said with some heat, “Stranger things have happened, Lacey. Don’t make it sound like this news ranks right up there with someone giving birth to an alien’s baby.”
Jeannine shook a headful of frizzy red curls and breathed a “Wow!” that spoke volumes. “I thought he was taking Liza. Everyone thought so.” She shifted her thin frame on the metal folding chair. “Well, no wonder you’re not interested in who Michael might invite now.”
Caroline said nothing, but her eyes suddenly looked suspiciously bright.
Margaret knew how Caroline must be feeling. They had spent every prom night throughout high school together, having what they called a “non-prom party.” Freshman year, they hadn’t expected to be invited. In their sophomore year, they’d held only a slight hope that some cute junior or senior might notice they were alive. It hadn’t happened. Junior year, they’d been much more optimistic, since by that time they actually knew more guys. But those guys had asked other girls, not them.
Sometimes their non-prom party had been held at Caroline’s house, sometimes at Margaret’s. They’d held it on the Point once. That had been fun, but only Margaret was willing to climb up to the top of the lighthouse. So she’d had to go up alone in the dark. That had been a little creepy. Still, they’d always had fun, and they had already planned a get-together at Caroline’s house this year. Margaret’s announcement meant that things would be different. There would be only Caroline, Jeannine, and Lacey at their non-prom festivities. Margaret knew that had to hurt Caroline.
“Your mother must be jumping for joy,” Caroline said then, toying with one of the bobby pins in her hair. “Did she already sell the blue dress?”
“No. She was saving it for me. Hid it upstairs in the Sweatbox.” Margaret didn’t add that Adrienne was also saving the turquoise for Caroline, just in case. She could ask Scott, she told herself in an effort to ease the pain she felt for Caroline. She could.
Not one of them had said it was wonderful that she was going to the prom.
“I wonder why he’s not going with Liza,” Lacey said lazily.
“She asked someone from her brother Brandon’s college.” Margaret pushed her sandwich aside.
“Mitch must have been really upset,” Caroline said, shoving her own uneaten sandwich to the side. “Everyone just assumed Liza was going with him.”
Irritated by the implication that she was second choice, Margaret said, “He hadn’t planned on going at all.” She had no intention of agreeing that she was Mitch’s consolation prize because Liza Buffet had chosen someone else. “No money. But his grandmother sent him a check.”
“Never mind Mitch McGill,” Lacey said impatiently. “We all thought he was already taken, anyway. It’s Michael we need to concentrate on.”
Margaret shook her head in disbelief. They had not said one word about the news release from the police department that morning. “I can’t believe we’re even discussing the prom. You don’t find it utterly terrifying,” she asked quietly, “that Stephanie’s death wasn’t an accident? That someone kicked her hand away from that railing?”
Lacey looked up in surprise. “What’s that got to do with us? Stephanie’s a Pop. We’re not. Whoever had it in for her probably doesn’t even know we exist.” A dreamy look appeared in her eyes. “I wonder,” she mused aloud, “if your mother still has that gorgeous pale pink dress, the one with the long, full skirt.”
“You’re too short for a dress like that.” Jeannine thought for a minute, then added with hope in her voice, “Michael’s in my calculus class. I’ve helped him solve more than one really horrendous problem. I wonder if he remembers.”
Annoyed that they weren’t happier for her and repulsed by the talk about Michael Danz, Margaret stood up. “I can’t deal with this.” She picked up her books. “Well, don’t lose hope, any of you,” she added sarcastic
ally. “There’s always a chance that at the funeral tomorrow, maybe right in the middle of the service, Michael will walk up to one of you and invite you to the prom. Just in case, you might want to run over to Quartet after school today and grab yourself a dress. Mom has a few left. Just don’t tell her who you hope to be going with, or she’ll be as repulsed as I am.”
“Easy for you to talk,” Jeannine retorted. “You already have a date. Which you can thank Liza for, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you.” Margaret turned to leave.
“Besides, Margaret,” Caroline said quietly, “it’s not like Michael was always faithful to Stephanie. Everyone knows he fooled around sometimes. So maybe he’s not as shattered as you think he should be.”
“I’m outa here,” Margaret snapped. Five seconds later, she was striding down the main hallway, her cheeks high with color. She was angry that her very best friends for years now, hadn’t shared her happiness at being invited to the prom. And she couldn’t believe they were all, even Caroline, hoping to be invited themselves by someone whose girlfriend of several years had just been killed. Revolting.
Later, as she and Caroline worked together at Quartet, there was an uneasy, strained silence between them. During a lull in customer activity, Margaret went up to the Sweatbox to iron fabric, switching on the portable tape deck on a shelf behind her, for company.
Caroline followed her. She stood in the doorway, cracking her knuckles nervously. Margaret ignored her, concentrating instead on keeping the wobbly old board steady on its wooden legs.
“You don’t think someone like Michael Danz would ever ask someone like me out, do you?” Caroline finally asked, her voice low.
Margaret reached out to turn down the stereo. She set the iron on its heel. “Caroline, Stephanie was killed yesterday! No one’s talking about that. You all sat there at lunch and talked about who Michael might take to the prom now. He probably won’t even go! Aren’t you the least bit worried about what happened to Stephanie up on that deck?”
Caroline walked over to stand at the long, narrow, open window. Late-day shadows from outside highlighted the sharp angles in her face. “I didn’t like Stephanie, Margaret. That’s no surprise. None of us did. Just because she was a big deal at school doesn’t mean she was nice. She wasn’t. Do you think if I’d been killed, Stephanie would have stayed home from the prom?”
She had a point. “No. But Caroline, aren’t you worried about who killed her? I mean, someone deliberately kicked her hand away from the post. Maybe pushed her over the edge, too. Doesn’t that scare you?”
Caroline picked up a bolt of red fabric, began smoothing its folds. “Like Lacey said, Margaret, what does that have to do with us? Stephanie was a Pop. Maybe she made one of her many friends mad. We don’t run with that crowd. So what do we have to worry about?” She laid the bolt of fabric back on its shelf. “Maybe it was a transient who killed her. Either way, if we stay away from the Point and,” her voice hardened, “we don’t suddenly become wildly popular, we’re okay, right? In fact,” her voice slowed as a new thought formed, “now that I think about it, maybe we wallflowers are better off. Stephanie was going to the prom, am I right? But now she’s not.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Caroline shrugged. “First the dresses were ruined, and then Stephanie, who was a shoo-in for queen, flies off the deck of the lighthouse and becomes fish food.”
“Caroline!”
“Sorry. But don’t you see a connection here, Margaret? You’re a very smart person. I can’t believe you haven’t already seen the link between those two very nasty events. It’s the prom, Margaret. Anyone can see that.” Then, as she walked back to the door to go downstairs, she added, “Look, I’m sorry I was such a jerk at lunch. I really am glad Mitch asked you to the prom. At least I was before this happened. I don’t know, Margaret, maybe you’d be better off celebrating with us. You don’t want to end up like Stephanie. Or like one of those three prom dresses, right?”
Fighting desperately to stay calm, Margaret turned the stereo volume up again and resumed her ironing. “I’m not going to end up under someone’s tires, Caroline. Don’t worry about it.” I’ll do enough worrying for both of us, she thought but didn’t say. “And maybe I would have acted the same way if you’d been asked to the prom instead of me.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.” Caroline went back downstairs.
Adrienne came up a few minutes later. She looked puzzled. “Honey, have you seen Stephanie’s red dress?”
Margaret looked up from the ironing board, a mixture of surprise and distaste on her face. “Mom! Have you forgotten she’s not going to be needing it now?”
“No, of course I haven’t. And I would never put it back on display. I thought I’d donate it to the theater department at school. Someone should get some use out of it.” Frowning, Adrienne stood in the middle of the cramped space, hands on her slim hips. “But I can’t find it.”
“Where was it?”
“Hanging in a plastic bag behind the register. I called her on Monday and told her it was ready. She was going to pick it up early this morning. But of course …” Adrienne’s voice trailed off.
Margaret switched off the iron. “I’ll help you look.”
But, though they covered every inch of space in the entire shop, enlisting Caroline’s and Scott’s help, there was no sign of Stephanie’s red dress.
“I don’t understand this at all,” Adrienne said when they finally gave up.
Neither did Margaret. But the dress was gone.
Mitch called that night, and he and Margaret talked for over an hour. Although she was curious about the police investigation into Stephanie’s death, she didn’t ask him about it. She didn’t want him to think she was using him for information. And she didn’t tell him about the missing prom dress, either. Too weird.
Caroline already knew about the missing dress, but they didn’t talk about it when she called later, except when she said, “I told Jeannine and Lacey. They thought it was pretty freakish. I still think someone from her family came in and got it. Maybe we were all busy somewhere else and they were too upset to talk about it, so they just took the dress and left. The bag had a tag with Stephanie’s name right there on the front, and it was already paid for, right?”
Right. But Margaret found that scenario difficult to believe. Hard to imagine a member from that devastated family coming into the shop to pick up a prom dress that Stephanie wouldn’t ever wear.
Jeannine and Lacey were right. The disappearance of the dress was freakish. But it paled in comparison to Stephanie’s death.
What it did do, though, was fortify Caroline’s theory that the prom was somehow involved in these recent ugly events. Weird that Caroline herself hadn’t mentioned that just now, hadn’t pushed the theft at Margaret as additional proof that she was right. Caroline did so like to be right.
It rained all day Friday, a light but steady, chilly shower that turned the grass spongy at the cemetery. Standing under a canopy at the gravesite following the service, Margaret wished fiercely that the sun were shining, that the air was dry and warm. Stephanie had died in cold wetness. She shouldn’t have to be buried in it, too.
When it was all over, Margaret was standing in line to pay her respects to the Markham family when she overheard Stephanie’s older sister Ruth say sadly, “No, the police have no idea. It’s so hard for us to believe that anyone would harm our Stephanie. She was so popular. Everyone loved her.”
Not quite everyone, Margaret thought. But her heart went out to Stephanie’s family.
The image of Stephanie dangling above the rocks, terrified, knowing she was about to die, made Margaret so ill, she had to break from the line. She rushed across the sodden ground to find shelter on a wooden bench under a large tree. Slipping free of uncomfortable shoes, she tucked her legs up underneath her to keep her stocking feet off the wet ground, and watched the line of mourners greet the fam
ily.
When her stomach finally quieted, she decided to return to the line.
But when she saw Michael, wearing a dark suit, surrounded by a cluster of girls, Margaret’s stomach revolted. Some of the girls were crying, among them Jeannine, Lacey, and Caroline. Were they all really expressing sympathy? None of them had known Stephanie well, if at all. Liza and Kiki were in the cluster, too, and Beth, hanging on to Lucas’s arm, as if for support. Liza looked completely stunned, Kiki, and Beth devastated. They were crying.
At least, Margaret thought in disgust, those three were Stephanie’s best pals, which is more than I can say for my friends. How obvious can you get? It’s sickening.
“Bad day for a funeral, right?” Mitch’s voice said in Margaret’s ear.
She jumped, startled. “Oh. I guess. Is there such a thing as a good day for a funeral?”
“Good point. New shoes?” he asked, pointing to her feet. “Too small?”
“No. Too big. I was in a hurry when I bought them.” The constant slipping up and down on her heels bothered her. She slid the shoes back on, wishing she’d worn more comfortable footgear.
Mitch’s dark hair was wet, curling along his forehead and over his ears. “You haven’t had any more trouble at Quartet, have you?”
The question surprised Margaret. She stood up. “Oh … no. Why?”
“Well, I don’t want to scare you,” he said quietly, “but the cops think there might be a connection between what happened at your store and Steph’s death.”
“The connection isn’t the store,” Margaret said quietly. “It’s the prom.”
“What?”
“It’s the prom. Has to be.” She looked up at him. “Prom dresses ruined, Stephanie a sure thing for queen … what else could it be?”
“The prom?” He thought about that for a minute. “Any idea why?”
“Nope. Not me. Haven’t a clue. Do you?”
He shook his head. “Someone who isn’t going, I suppose. Mad that they’re not going.”
“Mad enough to kill? Over a dance?”
“It sounds crazy, I know. But Meg,” his eyes on hers, “kicking Steph’s hand away from that railing was an act of insanity, wasn’t it? Bad enough that the person up there with her didn’t help her, and didn’t get help for her after she’d fallen. Now we know they actually made her fall. You’re right, a normal person would never think about killing because of a prom, no matter how many people in the cafeteria say, ‘I’d kill to go to the prom.’ They don’t mean it, not literally. But a sick, twisted mind might think it was necessary. Might even think it was perfectly okay. Who knows?”