She happily slid into the front seat of the family’s Pontiac, her father perched at the steering wheel listening to John Denver on the radio.
“You look so grown-up, sweetheart.” It was hard to see her walk toward the car in her pink top and denim skirt. If he blinked, he could have imagined Grace, twenty years earlier, though perhaps wearing a longer hemline. He could smell she was wearing perfume too.
“Thanks,” she answered matter-of-factly. She pulled the sun visor down, glanced at herself in the mirror and reapplied her lip gloss.
“We should go, Dad. We don’t want to be late.”
Several blocks away, Clayton grabbed a clean T-shirt from his drawers and pulled it over his chest. His father’s breath, heavy with the scent of Marlboro cigarettes and Jack Daniels, was still in his nostrils. He couldn’t believe he had actually agreed to go with Buddy to this ridiculous dance at the school. But he realized it wasn’t the actual dancehis friend wanted to attend, it was the opportunity to get closer to Katie Golden.
Clayton, however, had no interest in spending one minute longer than he needed to in that dumbass high school. He hated every part of it. The dented lockers, the glass cases with the decades’ old trophies, and the cafeteria with its pathetic long metal tables and benches.
But if he had to choose between spending the night at home with his old man and his whiskey breath and his insults, or the evening hanging out with Buddy to see if he could get to second base with that girl, he’d choose the latter.
After all, Buddy had promised him they’d leave after an hour and just head over to the fort.
“We should definitely have a few beers before we go,” Buddy puffed, trying to sound cool.
Underneath his bed, in his utility bag, Clayton had already stashed four cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Buddy promised he’d bring four more.
He swiveled around, hoisted the bag onto his shoulders and headed out the door, his father cursing at him as he slammed the screen door shut.
CHAPTER 62
OUTSIDE, IN THE HIGH SCHOOL PARKING LOT, THE SCENT OFmaple leaves fills the early September air. Katie lifts one of the Tupperware cases of frosted cupcakes from the back of a long brown Lincoln. Linda’s mother turns off the ignition key, slides a hand into the neckline of her silky, polyester blouse and adjusts her bra strap, before checking her lipstick in the mirror.
“You got that, girls?” Mrs. Atkinson, with her clingy top and high-rise pants, wants to be at the dance probably as little as the girls do. But Adele has made sure all the women in the PTA participated in the annual fundraising dance.
“And don’t stack them on top of each other. I don’t want the frosting to get smudged. I spent hours redoing the ones that Linda tried to decorate.”
Linda, her eyes lined in dark pencil, her lips swiped with lip gloss, makes a face.
“Come on, let’s just go set up,” she mutters under her breath. Katie beams, absorbing every word of her new friend, basking in her newfound popularity.
“Sure,” she says, and her face is bright like the moon. “I’ll follow you inside.”
The gymnasium has been decorated with ropes of streamers. Electric-blue-and-white crepe paper twists and loops across the border of the room, where banners announce the championships Bellegrove Highhas won over the years. Outside the doors, the PTA committee has set up long tables where cans of soda and platters of homemade chocolate-chip cookies have already been placed. Linda and Katie set down the trays of cupcakes and pull off the plastic covers.
“Oh, now, don’t those look delicious, girls,” Adele says, peering down at the perfectly frosted tops. “Did you do all of this, Linda?”
Linda laughed. “Oh, no, my mom made them.”
“Well, I’m sure you helped, honey,” the voice of Shelby Atkinson interrupts. “Linda’s always so helpful.”
Adele smiles. “Just like my Buddy. He’s always helping around the house.”
Only hours before, Adele had asked Buddy to help her decorate the gymnasium with the other women on the committee, but he informed her bluntly that he had already made other plans.
He did not tell his mother that Clayton and he were going to buy beer at the local liquor store and get pounded before the dance. And he certainly didn’t tell her the second part of his plan, which involved approaching Katie Golden and making it known he liked her.
“The other women aren’t tall enough to hang all the streamers,” Adele complained. “And no one is going to want to climb a ladder if they’re wearing pumps. Can’t you just come for an hour, Bud? You could bring Clayton.”
He looked at her with an apathetic glace and shook his head no.
Adele glowered. “If my parents asked me to do the littlest thing, I’d jump to help them!” She sighed deeply to emphasize her annoyance. “And you, young man, can’t do anything at all for me!”
But Buddy had learned long ago how to ignore his mother. He tied the laces of his new sneakers, pulled on his new denim jacket, and didn’t even look over his shoulder as Adele sent dagger-like glares in his direction. He blithely walked out the door.
Clayton was already waiting for him behind the C&P Mini Mart when Buddy rode up and parked his bike near the dumpster. Dressed in a brown denim jacket and faded Wranglers, Clayton’s bottom lip swelled from a marble-sized wad of chewing tobacco he had just stuck into the corner of his mouth.
