The Perfect Couple

41

In a minute I heard the notes that signaled us to dance out onto the floor. I went into Marcus's arms and we waltzed down the middle of the room, while a wide path opened before us. We were cheered every step of the way. Is this real? I wondered, but when I looked up at Marcus he smiled and his eyes told me that it was real, all right. Just relax and enjoy our special evening.

My heart whispered something back to him, but I wasn't sure what it was because the tempo of the music picked up then, rushing towards a crescendo. We whirled faster and faster, the length of the gym, the back to where we'd started. Finally, waving and smiling, we disappeared backstage, deafening applause following us.

The committee received us with congratulations. We'd done a wonderful job, everyone said. Someone told us to take a moment to compose ourselves. "Then you can have fun for the rest of the evening."

When we went back to the gym we moved onto the floor and were able to dance just like the other couples, except we drew a lot more attention, I guess.

My eyes kept roving and at last I saw Alan . . . with Mary. They weren't dancing but stood on the sidelines, holding cups of punch. Mary looks lovely in a green sheath that made the most of her height and her vivid dark colouring, yet Alan didn't seem impressed. He was staring at me!

My heart jumps and missed a beat.

Marcus glanced down at me in concern. "Did I step on your foot? Mom gave me a few dancing lessons, but she says I'm just like my dad, with two left feet."

"You didn't step on my foot," I said, "and with these heels you better hope I don't step on yours." I laughed, not wanting to tell him that I was so excited about the way Alan was looking at me that I'd almost stumbled.

When the number ended Marcus suggested we get some punch. My mouth was so dry I could hardly wait. But before we got to the refreshment table Alan barred the way.

"Hi, Marcus," he said. Then he turned his deep dark eyes on me. "May I have the next dance?" There was a husky wrote his voice I've never heard before.

Marcus put a firm hand on my arm "Kelly and I are going to get some punch."

Alan didn't look at him. He was still gazing at me. "I'll see that she gets a cup of punch, or anything else she wants."

I could hear my heart beating above all the talk and laughter around us . . . or maybe I just felt it. But was it right to go off with Alan when Marcus and I had agreed to take a break together? I looked up at Marcus. His features were impassive. Why wasn't he as thrilled as I was that our scheme seemed to be working? I hesitated a moment, then I smiled at him.

"I'll see you later," I said. "If that's alright with you."

He shrugged and waved me off. "Have fun."

Of course it was alright with him, I reassured myself. This was what it had been about all the time. Of course he wanted me to go out with Alan, or he wouldn't have agreed to the scheme in the first place.

I followed Alan to the refreshment area.

Leading me safely out of the crush of people, he pushed his way to the front, then smiling triumphantly, he returned, holding aloft two cups of pink punch.

I sent him when he had it one to me, but he said, "my pleasure and privilege." He touched his plastic up to mine.

"Privilege?"

My mind seemed to be wandering. I couldn't concentrate enough to figure out what he meant. Across the room Marcus was talking to a tall, plain girl named Joanne.

Last year she'd sat on the bench all evening just like I had, watching the dancers. Her face, as she looked up at Marcus, was lit up like the Christmas tree that stood in a corner of the gym.

"Of course it's a privilege to sort the sweetheart of the ball," Alan said. He was giving me another of his deep dark looks.

"It's funny, but I never noticed before how pretty you are," he remarked in a musing tone.

For some reason I remembered Marcus looking at me once when we'd been working on his bike. "You've got a smudge of grease on your nose," he'd said, "but don't bother to wipe it away. On you it looks cute."

"How's your wrist?" I suddenly asked Alan.

For the first time I wondered if he'd really hurt it during the game.

"I still get a twinge now and then," he said, putting a slightly pained expression on his face.

The music started. Alan handed our cups to a boy who was passing by. "Put these down somewhere, will you?" He said. He'd led me onto the floor before the boy could do anything but look surprised.

I glanced around and saw Marcus again. He was dancing with Joanne. It's looked as if she didn't know how to dance, but he was smiling and keeping up a lively conversation so she wouldn't worry about how awkward she was.

It was a rock number. Still, Alan put his arm around me and dance up close. "Listen, we're going to have that Coke at The Straw real soon," he said. "Just you and me. I'll get us a booth if I have to bribe somebody."

There'd be no better way to prove I was his girl. I tried to feel excited, but somehow I couldn't. "I'm not sure I'll be free," I said. He said something more, his toll urgent, but I wasn't listening. I was watching Marcus and Joanne. . . .

She looked almost pretty now now.is she gazed at Marcus with adoring eyes. She hung onto his every word and laughed at something he said. Then a minute later his face bent to hers and they seem to be talking very seriously about something.

"Why don't we go outside for a bit and get some air?" Alan asked as the music ended.

"Not right now," I said abruptly. "Please excuse me."

I pushed my way through the crowded gym. I was flushed and confused and needed a chance to think. Why wasn't a throat out of my mind that Alan at last wanted a dance with me? Why did I keep my eyes glued on Marcus? Didn't I see enough of him everyday of my life?