Dust Devil (13 page)

A
few minutes later, when the gymnasium was full to bursting at its
seams, Hard Road launched into its first number of the evening, a
lively rock-and-roll song that quickly had the space for dancing
crowded nearly beyond capacity. Sarah sat at a table with some of the
other girls who, like her, didn’t have dates, and watched Renzo
perform, refusing the invitations to dance that she received, much to
her surprise. She had never been very popular, but it seemed that
suddenly more than one of the boys had noticed her. Sarah could only
attribute it to the dress Mama had made for her, and she flushed
nervously, guiltily, at the thought that Mama had never intended for
her to draw the sleeves down as she had, baring the generous swell of
her breasts. But Sarah had wanted to remind Renzo that she wasn’t
a child any longer, so he would see only her and not the other girls
at the prom—especially not Eveline Holbrooke.

Evie
was so gorgeous that it was hard to imagine any guy not wanting her,
Sarah thought as she spied her on the dance floor. Determinedly,
Sarah swallowed down the knot of fear that rose in her throat at the
idea that Renzo would be attracted to Evie, just like all the other
boys in town, even the older ones who attended college. No, of course
he would not. Still, Sarah wished desperately that Evie weren’t
dressed in a long, tight, strapless, beaded white sheath that was
slit up to the thigh and fitted her like a second skin. Sarah had
seen the gown last month at the trendy, exclusive Fashion Boutique,
so she knew it had cost over a thousand dollars. That day at the
dress shop, she had known, even before glancing surreptitiously at
the price tag, that she couldn’t even begin to afford the gown.
She only went into the Fashion Boutique to dream, not to buy.

Now
for a moment, as she studied Evie, Sarah longed to run and hide in
the girls’ bathroom, certain her own dress was hideous and that
everybody at the prom recognized that it was homemade, not
store-bought. But then shame pierced her deeply. Mama had worked so
many long, hard nights on the organza gown, tracing and cutting,
pinning and basting, her gnarled, arthritic hands turning the fabric
into a young woman’s romantic dream. It didn’t matter
that the dress wasn’t chic and expensive, Sarah told herself
fiercely. Every seam had been stitched with love, and that counted
for more than anything.

“
Do
you see that gown Evie’s
almost
wearing?”
Krystal Watkins asked, her eyes narrowed in her plain face. “Why,
it looks as though she were poured into it! And she’s
practically falling out of the top of it, too!”

“
I’m
sure Parker is praying she actually will,” Liz Tyrrell drawled
dryly as, in the same tomboyish way she wielded a field-hockey stick,
she tossed aside her prom program. Parker Delaney, quarterback of the
football team, the Lincoln Lions, was the most popular boy in school.
Liz was sweet on him, even though he and Evie were going steady.

“
Well,
if Evie’s dress
does
come
off, it won’t be anything Parker hasn’t seen already,”
Dorothy “Dody” Carpenter—people sometimes
spitefully called her “Dodo”— declared firmly. “I
overheard Evie in the girls’ bathroom one day, bragging to a
bunch of her friends about how she and Parker had gone all the way
several times. Is anyone hungry? I know I am. I didn’t eat any
supper, I was so afraid I wasn’t going to fit into my gown.”

Everybody
was too polite to remark on the obvious: that Dody was so heavy that
it was a wonder she fit into
any
dress.
She was always hungry, always eating, after which she had taken
recently to retiring to the girls’ bathroom, where she forced
herself to vomit all she had consumed, in a futile attempt to avoid
gaining any more weight. Still, at least the buffet offered a chance
to escape from the sight of Evie in her tight dress, grinding her
hips against Parker’s as the sound of Renzo’s wailing
saxophone reverberated in the gymnasium.

“
I’m
hungry,
Dody,” Sarah announced abruptly, getting to her feet. “I
didn’t eat any supper, either.”

She
had been too nervous and excited to eat. The arrival of the delivery
boy from the Flower Garden, bearing the box in which the white orchid
from Renzo had lain, had thrilled her beyond words. Mama had got
tears in her eyes when Sarah had untied the ribbon and opened the box
to reveal the orchid, because Mama had fretted so about Sarah not
having a date or even a corsage for prom night. Daddy had actually
teased Sarah gruffly about her “secret admirer.” Then,
with his Polaroid camera, he had snapped several pictures of her,
insisting she looked so beautiful that he was half afraid to let her
out of the house, for fear she would inadvertently cause a brawl at
the prom.

She
had nearly broken down and told her parents about Renzo. But Liz,
having wheedled from her father her parents’ car for the
evening, had pulled up into the gravel drive just then, blasting
impatiently on the horn, and Sarah’s words had died unuttered
on her lips.

Now,
as she followed Dody toward the buffet tables, Sarah wondered if the
rumors about Evie and Parker being lovers were true. From the way the
two of them danced together, Sarah thought it appeared likely. She
sighed heavily. She was probably the only seventeen-year-old virgin
in the entire high school. In the entire world. No matter what Mama
and Daddy said, it seemed everybody did it these days, even nice
girls; that those who saved themselves for marriage were hopelessly
old-fashioned. Or afraid. Or frigid. Sarah didn’t want to be
labeled any of those things. Or to lose Renzo because he thought she
was.

At
the buffet tables, she moved slowly through the line, lingering to
pass the time as she filled a plate and accepted a cup of punch from
one of the teachers serving as a chaperon. Even though the louvered
windows of green glass set high into the walls of the gymnasium were
open to admit the night air, it was hot and stifling inside. Sarah
felt as though she were melting. Knowing it had been rumored that
some of the rowdier boys planned to spike the punch, she sipped it
cautiously, forced to admit to herself that she wouldn’t
recognize whether it contained alcohol or not. Daddy didn’t
hold with anybody younger than twenty-one drinking liquor, so the
only booze she had ever tasted had been an occasional sip of the beer
Renzo had brought to the tree house every summer since he was
sixteen. The punch seemed all right, so she drank it in long
swallows, grateful for its iciness as it slid down her throat.

Carrying
her plate and refilled cup, Sarah returned to an empty table. The
other girls had either got up to dance, had gone to the bathroom to
repair their makeup or had sneaked outside to the bushes or the
backseats of cars to neck furtively or indulge in a covert smoke.
Even Dody had already finished eating and disappeared, probably to
bring back up whatever she had downed. Sarah felt lonesome, awkward
and conspicuous. She wished Renzo were beside her, that he didn’t
play in a band, that he hadn’t had to be part of the prom’s
entertainment. She felt as though everyone were staring at her,
whispering about her, making fun of the fact that she didn’t
have a date, was sitting alone, a wallflower. Rejected, the boys who
had come stag and had asked her to dance earlier had now moved on to
other, more willing prey.

For
comfort, Sarah stroked the gold necklace around her throat and slid
Renzo’s ring back and forth on the chain, reassuring herself
that she was loved. She ate her buffet supper. She whiled away more
time by going to the bathroom herself, and then by pretending to
study the prom program, a copy of which was placed at every seat. The
program was bound in silver, with a braided, tasseled silver cord to
hold the inside pages in place. Knowing it was meant to be taken home
as a keepsake, she tucked it into the small evening bag Mama had lent
her for the night.

“
Now,
what’s the loveliest girl at the prom doing sitting all by
herself?” a voice whispered in her ear, startling her. “No,
don’t answer that. It’s my fault, and for that, I’m
sorry, Sarah. I’ll try not to be jealous if you want to dance
with other guys. I know it can’t be much fun for you, being all
alone like this and watching everybody else have a good time,”
Renzo said soberly.

“
It’s
all right,” she insisted, smiling up at him. “I don’t
mind. Really, I don’t.”

“
Well,
I do mind. So I’ve arranged not to play this next song.”
He held out his hand to her. “Will you dance with me, Sarah?”

“
Yes,
oh, yes!” Her eyes shining, she laid her hand in

his.

The
guy running the band’s sound and lighting equipment manipulated
the controls on his board, and all the lights over the bandstand
gradually turned a soft blue, except for the white light that shone
on the now spinning mirror ball, so it seemed as though thousands of
tiny stars were strewn across the dance floor as Renzo led Sarah
toward it. From the band’s PA system, the opening strains of
Lionel Richie’s “Truly” drifted into the darkened
gymnasium, through the louvered windows and out into the night as
Renzo took her in his arms.

In
Sarah’s mind, the two of them danced alone beneath a starry
spring sky. She was oblivious of the other couples that crowded the
dance floor, so there was barely room to shuffle in place to the
music. For her, there were only she and Renzo in all the world, and
the lyrics of the song told the story of their love. She felt so
light on her feet that it seemed she floated in his embrace, his
breath warm against her skin, his chest pressed against the sensitive
tips of her breasts, rubbing the organza of her gown across them, the
strapless bra she wore doing little to mitigate the erotic
sensations. She thought Renzo, in his old, black leather jacket and
matching trousers, looked more handsome than any of the other boys
did in their smart, rented tuxedos. She wished she were really alone
with him, that they danced together in their meadow instead of the
Lincoln High School gymnasium.

But
it was nearly summer, and soon there would be weeks of long, lazy
days at the tree house, days during which the two of them would
discover and explore each other in ways only dreamed of until now,
deepening their love, growing closer than ever. At that thought,
Sarah felt her heart well in her breast, as though it were unable to
contain all the joy it held.

As
though he had read her mind, Renzo tightened his arms around her.
“Sarah. Sweet Sarah,” he whispered against her ear, his
lips caressing the strands of her hair, his hands roaming sensuously
down her back. “Do you have to go home right after the prom is
over, or can you wait for me outside?”

“
I
don’t know. It depends on Liz. I came with her and some of the
other girls, in Liz’s parents’ car. We said we might go
to the Sonic for a shake and burger afterward, so I’m not
expected home right away. If Liz isn’t in any hurry to leave
after the prom, I’ll try to meet you outside.”

“
Try
hard.” He paused for a moment, then swore softly. “Damn!
I should have just told the band I couldn’t play with them
tonight!”

“
No,
it’s all right,” Sarah insisted again. She knew the
orchid he had sent her couldn’t have been cheap and that the
Martinellis, while not poor, were not rich, either. “It’s
enough just to dance this one dance with you, Renzo. Truly, it is.”

“
No,
it’s not. But by this time next year, you’ll be old
enough to get married without your parents’ consent, so we
won’t have to convince them you’re not too young to be
tying yourself down, and then we’ll have the rest of our lives
together, Sarah. I promise you that. I love you. I want you. God, you
don’t know how much I ache to be inside you, to claim you as
mine forever. I don’t know if I can wait until next spring to
have you.” His eyes glittered as he gazed down at her hungrily,
as though he would devour her right there on the dance floor. A wild
thrill shot through her, making her shiver. Her heart leaped with
happiness and excitement and apprehension. He wanted to marry her! He
wanted to make love to her, to hold her naked in the darkness, to be
a part of her for always. And he was impatient. That thought gnawed
at her.