Before Carole could say a word to stop him, he was gone.
SEVEN
The next evening, Callie picked at a loose thread on her skirt as Scott spun the wheel to take the turn into the Willow Creek High School driveway. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she muttered darkly.
Scott glanced over at her. “Come on, Callie,” he said with a smile. “This is supposed to be fun, remember?”
Callie didn’t answer. She just stared with trepidation at the modern glass-and-brick building, light pouring through its windows and casting yellowish patterns on the darkened sidewalk. George didn’t have a car, so she had agreed to meet him at the dance. Thanks to a last-minute phone call from Stevie insisting that Scott wear a tie and sport jacket instead of the sweater he’d put on, she was now a few minutes late. She scanned the students gathered in the courtyard in front of the school doors as Scott steered past on his way to the parking lot. She didn’t see George, but she was sure he was there. He wasn’t the type to be late on an evening like this.
“Okay,” Scott said cheerfully as he pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. “Ready to make an entrance?”
“I don’t know what you’re so happy about,” Callie muttered. “Aren’t you afraid Veronica’s going to dump a bucket of pig’s blood on your head or something?”
Scott chuckled. “Come on,” he said, opening his door and climbing out.
Callie gathered her crutches and did the same. Outside, she leaned over to give her face one last check in the side-view mirror, then straightened the collar of her silk blouse. “Let’s go,” she told Scott.
Soon the two of them were walking across the asphalt toward the front of the school. They had almost reached the courtyard when George spotted them and hurried forward to meet them.
“Hi, Callie,” he said breathlessly, hardly seeming to notice Scott, who ducked away and headed for the door alone. “Wow, you look incredible.”
“Thanks. You look nice, too.” She had to admit that it was true. He still wasn’t going to be mistaken for a male model or anything, but he did look a lot cuter than usual in his well-cut dark suit and tasteful tie, with his short blond hair tamed into neat waves.
Maybe this won’t be a total disaster after all, she thought hopefully.
He extended his arm shyly. “Um, shall we?”
She tucked her hand into his elbow, shifting both crutches to her other hand. He supported her carefully as she walked beside him into the school, hardly having to favor her weak right leg at all.
“I think it’s this way,” George said, turning and following a group of students Callie didn’t know down the hall to the left. She hadn’t seen anybody else from Fenton Hall yet, though she was sure there would be plenty of people she knew inside. She clutched George’s sleeve and wet her lips, glancing around her as they walked. She’d never been inside Willow Creek High School before, though she’d heard Carole and Lisa talk about it often enough.
The gymnasium doors were propped open, and the sound of upbeat dance music poured out to envelop them as they approached. Just inside the entrance, Callie saw a cluster of students gathered around her brother. More people were already hurrying toward him from the crowded dance floor just beyond.
George had noticed, too. “Looks like your brother’s campaigning already.”
“That’s Scott for you.” Callie cleared her throat and glanced around as she and George entered the room, skirting Scott’s group and then drifting to a stop. She raised her voice to make herself heard over the music. “Wow, there sure are a lot of people here.”
That was an understatement. The gym was packed. People were dancing, helping themselves to refreshments from a long table at the far end of the room, or just standing around talking. A girl from Callie’s English class walked past and waved, casting a curious glance at George. Callie waved back, ignoring the glance, though she did remove her hand from his arm, feeling self-conscious.
Then she turned to look at George. He was only about half an inch taller than she was, so she could look him straight in the face. “So …,” she said, not sure what they were supposed to do next.
He didn’t seem to know, either. “So,” he replied. “Um, would you like something to drink?” He waved a hand toward the refreshments.
“Sure. That would be great.” Callie smiled at him thankfully, realizing that her throat was a little dry.
She followed as he made his way through the crowds, wielding her crutches expertly and nodding at people she knew as she went. Soon they reached the refreshment table, and George poured her a cup of soda. She sipped at it and glanced around, wondering why she suddenly couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say. She and George had talked together often enough before this, usually about chemistry or riding. But somehow, neither of those subjects seemed appropriate at this point, though no alternative topics presented themselves to Callie’s mind.
George seemed to be having similar problems. He cleared his throat several times, coughed into his hand, and then smiled brightly at her over the rim of his paper cup. “Well,” he said after a long moment of silence. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Callie wasn’t certain what he was referring to, but it didn’t seem to matter. “Everyone seems to be having fun.”
At that moment, several large guys raced to the deejay’s table, where one of them grabbed the microphone. “Willow Creek rules!” he bellowed, while his friends whooped and pumped their fists in the air. Laughter and cheers erupted from the dancing students, and several people echoed the large guy’s words as the deejay wrestled the microphone back.
“I guess that means they won their game today,” Callie commented with a smile, suddenly remembering that this was Willow Creek High School’s homecoming, not just a normal dance.
“What?” George said, glancing toward the commotion. “Oh, uh, I guess.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not really into sports.”
“Oh.” Callie wasn’t sure what to say to that. She took another sip of soda, feeling uncomfortable. Just then another song started. “Hey, I like this one,” she said, her foot tapping along automatically.
“Would you like to dance?” George asked.
“Sure.” Callie smiled with relief. Of course. They were at a dance—why not start dancing? She already knew from Stevie’s party that George was a good dancer, even though he didn’t look as if he should be. Leaning her crutches against the table, she took the hand he offered and limped onto the dance floor after him.
For a while, she did her best simply to enjoy herself. And for a while, it almost worked. George’s physical awkwardness seemed to melt away when he danced, much as it did when he was in the saddle.
Still, Callie wasn’t kidding herself. She had known almost from the moment she’d arrived at the dance that things were never going to work out between her and George. She liked him just fine as a friend, but she was never going to be able to see him as a boyfriend. No way. It just wasn’t going to happen. She already suspected that just surviving this dance was going to take all the endurance she had.
“Having fun?” George asked, interrupting her thoughts. His eyes were slightly anxious as he looked at her, and Callie realized she must have been frowning as she tried to figure things out.
She forced a pleasant smile, tossing her long blond hair off her face. “Of course,” she told him. “Are you?”
“Definitely.” George’s voice was fervent. He pulled her a little closer as they danced, even though an up-tempo song was playing, and she did her best not to pull away again.
This isn’t going to be easy, she thought as she felt his hand gently rubbing the small of her back. I’ve got to find a way to tell him this isn’t working. No, it won’t be easy at all.
At that moment Stevie was on her hands and knees on the kitchen floor, scrubbing at a stubborn grease spot. She wiped her brow and glanced at her twin, who was across the room balancing precariously on a chair as he carefully unscr
ewed a dusty glass shade from the overhead light fixture. Their parents had left an hour earlier to take the twins’ younger brother, Michael, to dinner and a movie in town. The only one home keeping Stevie and Alex company was the family dog, a big, lazy golden retriever named Bear. And all he seemed interested in doing was licking the floor as Stevie washed it.
“Get away,” she told the dog grumpily, shoving at him as he lowered his nose to the spot she was attacking. “This sucks enough without having to deal with dog slobber, too.”
Bear gave her a quizzical look, then stretched toward her and slurped at her face.
“Eeeew!” she exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her sponge at the dog. “Come on, Bear! Quit it!”
“Quit it yourself, Stevie,” Alex said sharply. He had climbed down from the chair and was dunking the dusty shade into a bucket of soapy water. “It’s not the dog’s fault we’re stuck here making like Mr. Clean while all our friends are at the dance.”
Stevie shot her brother a disgruntled look, sitting back on her heels to rest her back. “I know,” she snapped back. “It’s your fault. If you hadn’t had the bright idea to start guzzling beer last weekend—”
“Hey, I wasn’t the only one guzzling,” Alex reminded her with a frown.
Stevie rolled her eyes, wishing her parents had assigned her and Alex jobs in different rooms. He’d been whining all day about not getting to go to the dance with Lisa. As if he’s the only one missing out, she thought. She had made Scott promise to call her from the dance a few times if he could to keep her updated. But he hadn’t called yet, even though the dance had started nearly an hour earlier, and Stevie was driving herself crazy wondering what evil plans Veronica might be putting into action while she sat there scraping caked-on grease off the linoleum.
“Whatever,” she muttered in Alex’s general direction, rolling her shoulders back and forth to loosen the knots in her tired muscles.
Alex wiped halfheartedly at the soapy shade with a rag. “Lisa and I were really looking forward to this dance,” he murmured sadly. “It would have been so great.…”
Before Stevie could respond, the phone rang. She jumped, her heart flipping over with an uneasy combination of relief and anxiety. “That must be Scott!” she exclaimed, dashing for the phone and dodging around Bear as he nudged at her abandoned sponge with his nose. She grabbed the receiver in the middle of the second ring. “Hello?” she barked breathlessly. “Scott?”
“Not,” a familiar voice responded. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh. Phil.” Stevie slumped against the wall and let out a long breath. “Hi. I thought you were going to be Scott.”
“Obviously.” Phil sounded slightly miffed. “I guess you’ll just have to settle for me. Too bad.”
Stevie frowned. What was he sounding so worked up about? Whatever it was, she didn’t have the energy to deal with it at the moment. She had too many other things to worry about. “What do you want?” she asked shortly. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“I thought your parents weren’t going to be home,” Phil said. “I figured that meant we’d have time to talk. We’ve hardly talked all week, in case you didn’t notice.”
“There are a few reasons for that, remember?” she retorted. “Number one of which is, I’m grounded for the next million years or so, and Mom and Dad are working my fingers to the bone on top of it.”
“Hmmph.” Phil didn’t sound particularly sympathetic. “Well, that hasn’t stopped you from putting in your time getting ready for the horse show. Not to mention holding Scott’s hand through his little campaign.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You know how important that stuff is.” Stevie noticed Alex raising an eyebrow at her as he listened, and she turned her back to him, facing the wall. “I mean, people are counting on me.
“Right,” Phil said with a definite edge to his voice. “Well, just so we both know what your priorities are.”
Stevie was really getting fed up with his griping. Had he called just to make her feel even worse than she already did? Did he think she enjoyed having to squeeze in everything she had to do between joyous activities like wiping sticky cobwebs out of the attic beams and scraping old wallpaper off the bathroom walls? If so, maybe it was time for him to get a clue.
“Look, Mom and Dad will be home soon,” she said curtly. “If the stupid kitchen isn’t spotless by the time they get here, they’ll probably chain me in the basement or something. So I’d better go.”
“Whatever,” Phil said. “Sorry to bother you. Later.”
“Later,” she replied before slamming down the phone.
An hour later, from her seat beside George on the bottom row of bleachers, Callie caught a glimpse of her brother heading for the dance floor with yet another pretty girl in tow. She shook her head, wondering if he planned to dance with every girl in the place before the night was over. She hadn’t been paying particularly close attention to him, but as usual he had been hard to miss completely. He always had that effect—wherever he went, people noticed him. Their father was the same way. Not for the first time, Callie wished that some of their effortless social skills would rub off on her. She didn’t care about being the center of attention—far from it—but it would be nice to always know the right thing to say to people. People like George, for instance …
She smiled blandly as he continued talking about the Colesford Horse Show. She had brought up the topic as soon as they’d stopped dancing, figuring it would put them back on safe, friendly ground. But she was finding it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying.
Taking a sip of the punch George had fetched for her, she let her gaze wander over the rest of the room. She knew she should be making more of an effort to talk to him, but it was taking all of her acting skills just to pretend she was having a tolerable time. In truth, she was keeping a close eye on the clock above the basketball net on the far side of the gym, willing its hands to move faster. She had already realized that the downside of riding to the dance with Scott was that she would have to wait until he was ready to leave, and she knew that probably wouldn’t be until the bitter end.
At that moment her gaze wandered to a spot just beyond the dance floor. Veronica diAngelo was standing there. A good-looking guy was talking to her, but she clearly wasn’t listening. Her gaze was trained on Scott, and Callie was surprised he couldn’t feel her eyes burning into his back.
Wow, Callie thought, taking another sip of punch. If looks could kill, Scott would be a cinder right now.
But she didn’t waste much time thinking about that. Veronica had been shooting Scott dirty looks all evening, and so far it didn’t seem to be bothering him one bit.
At that moment George put a hand on her arm. She jumped, startled at the contact. “Anyway,” he said, “I hope you’re planning to come and cheer us on at the show.”
She raised her punch cup to her lips again, using it as an excuse to dislodge his hand. “Sure,” she said after swallowing. “Of course I am.”
“Good.” George looked pleased. “Um, I’m sure it will make me ride better. Just knowing you’re watching, I mean.”
Callie didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled again. This is awful, she thought, feeling terribly guilty. The poor guy is trying so hard, and he doesn’t even realize how totally it’s not working.
She didn’t think he’d even noticed that she’d been tuning out most of what he said, hardly listening as he talked about school, his mother, his horse … She certainly hoped he didn’t realize that every word he said was turning her off more and more.
“I’m having a really nice time with you tonight, Callie,” he said. He gazed at her earnestly. “I never thought a girl like you—well, I mean, I’m feeling like the luckiest guy here right now because I’m sitting with you.”
“I’m having a nice time, too,” she lied, wanting to spare his feelings as much as possible. After all, it wasn’t really his fault that this wasn’t working
out. She was sure there were plenty of girls out there who would appreciate him for the sweet, wonderful, caring guy he was, but unfortunately she just wasn’t one of them.
How could I ever have thought this would work? she wondered desperately, sneaking another glance at the clock as George tipped his head back and gulped down the last few drops of his punch.
Just then she noticed Betsy Cavanaugh and Nicole Adams standing nearby giggling to each other with their heads close together. Callie narrowed her eyes as Nicole glanced straight at her and then turned away quickly, nudging Betsy and giggling more than ever.
What’s up with them? Callie wondered. She barely knew either girl—they were in a few of her classes, but they’d never shown any signs of noticing her before.
“This punch is good, isn’t it?” George set his empty cup carefully on the seat beside him.
“It’s okay. Maybe a little too sweet.” Out of the corner of her eye, Callie saw that Betsy and Nicole were peeking at her again. Since she figured George would have let her know if she’d smudged her lipstick across her face or had something hanging out of her nose, she could only assume that they were marveling at what an odd couple the two of them made.
Callie did her best not to think about that. Growing up in a well-known family, she’d long since become accustomed to getting more than her share of attention. She’d never liked it much, but she’d learned to ignore it.
“I thought you liked sweet things,” George said, clearly oblivious to the extra attention they were attracting. “I’ve seen you eating those brownies Max’s wife makes sometimes.”
Callie shot him a quick glance, wondering just how much he’d noticed about her without her realizing it. “That’s different,” she said, trying to keep her voice light and casual. “I’ll eat anything chocolate.”
“Really?” George looked interested. He leaned a little closer. “Is that your favorite food?”
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