Harry reached over to grab the insouciant feline, but Mrs. Murphy easily avoided her. She hopped to the other side of the chair, then ran back into the bedroom where she leapt into the clothes and tore them up some more.
“Yahoo! Banzai! Death to the Emperor!”
“Have you been watching those World War Two movies again?” Tucker laughed.
“Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.” Murphy leapt in the air, turning full circle and landing in the middle of the clothes.
“She’s onamilitary kick.” Pewter snuck out from under the bed. “If you get us both punished, Murphy, I will be really upset.”
Murphy catapulted off the bed right onto Pewter. The two rolled across the bedroom floor, entertaining Harry with their catfight.
Finally Pewter, put out, extricated herself from the grasp of Murphy. She stalked off to the kitchen.
“Fraidycat.”
“Mental case,” Pewter shot back.
“Anything that happens tonight will be dull after this,” Harry said with a sigh.
Boy, did she have a wrong number.
37
Little Mim, taut under her powdered face, wig hobbling, wandered across the highly polished gym floor to Harry. At least she thought it was Harry because the vagabond’s escort, a pirate, was too tall to be anyone but Fair.
The dance was turning into a huge success, thanks to the band, Yada Yada Yada .
The curved sword, stuck through his sash, gave Fair a dangerous air. Other partyers wore swords. There was Stonewall Jackson and Julius Caesar. A few wore pistols that upon close examination turned out to be squirt guns.
Karen Jensen, behind a golden mask, drove the boys wild because she came as a golden-haired Artemis. Quite a bit of Karen was showing, and it was prime grade.
But then, quite a bit of Harry was showing, and that wasn’t bad either.
Little Mim put her hand on Harry’s forearm. ”Could I have a minute?”
“Sure. Fair, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” he replied from under his twirling mustache.
Marilyn pulled Harry into a corner of the auditorium. Madonna and King Kong were making out behind them. King Kong was having a hard time of it.
“I hope you aren’t cross with me. I should have called you.”
“About what?”
“I asked Blair to the dance. Well, it wasn’t just that I needed an escort, but I thought I might interest him in the school and—”
“I have no claim on him. Anyway, we’re just friends,” Harry said soothingly.
“Thanks. I’d hoped you’d understand.” Her wig wobbled. “How did they manage with these things?” She glanced around. “Can you guess who Stonewall Jackson is?”
“Mmm, the paunch means he’s a chaperon,” Harry stated.
“Kendrick Miller.”
“Where’s Irene? It isn’t World War Three yet with those two, is it?”
“Irene’s over there. It’d be a perfect costume if she were twenty years younger. Some women can’t accept getting old, I guess.” She indicated the woodland fairy, the wings diaphanous over the thin wire. Then, lowering her voice, “Did you see April Shively? Dressed as a witch. How appropriate.”
“I thought you liked April?”
Realizing she might have said too much, Little Mim backtracked. “She’s not herself since Roscoe’s death, and she’s making life difficult for everyone from the board on down to the faculty. It will pass.”
“Or she will,” Harry joked.
“Two bewitching masked beauties.” Maury McKinchie compli mented them from behind his Rhett Butler mask.
“What a line!” Harry laughed, her voice giving her away.
“May I have this dance?” Maury bowed to Harry, who took a turn on the floor.
Little Mim, happy she wasn’t asked, hastened to Blair as fast as her wig would allow.
Sean Hallahan, dressed as a Hell’s Angel, danced with Karen Jensen. After the dance ended, he escorted her off the floor. “Karen, is everyone mad at me?”
Jody, dragged along by her mother, glared at Sean. She was in a skeleton outfit that concealed her face, but Sean knew it was Jody.
“Jody is.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Field hockey practice takes up as much time as football practice.” She paused, clearing her throat. “And you’ve been a little weird lately—distant.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Sean, you couldn’t help the way things turned out—Mr. Fletcher’s dying—and until then it was pretty funny. Even the phony obituary for Mr. McKinchie was funny.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“I know, it was on Roger’s paper route, and he says he didn’t do it either.”
“But I really didn’t.” He sensed her disbelief.
“Okay, okay.”
“That’s an incredible costume,” he said admiringly.
“Thanks.”
“Karen—do you like me a little?”
“A little,” she said teasingly, “but what about Jody?”
“It’s not—well, you know. We’re close but not that way. We practiced a lot this summer and—”
“Practiced what?”
“Tennis. It’s our spring sport.” He swallowed hard.
“Oh.” She remembered Jody’s version of the summer.
“Will you go out with me next Friday after the game?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
He smiled, pushing her back out on the dance floor.
Coach Renee Hallvard, dressed as Garfield the cat, sidled up next to Harry.
“Harry, is that you?”
“Coach?”
“Yes, or should I say ‘Meow’?”
“Wonder what Mrs. Murphy would say about this?”
Coach reached back, draping her tail over her arm. “Get a life.”
They both laughed.
“She probably would say that.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll drop off this year’s field hockey rule book on Monday.”
“Why?” Harry murmured expectantly.
“I need a backup referee—just in case. You know the game.”
“Oh, Coach. Make Susan do it.”
“She can’t.” Coach Hallvard laughed at Harry. “Brooks is on the team.”
“Well—okay.”
Coach Hallvard clapped her on the back. “You’re a good sport.”
“Sucker is more like it.”
Rhett Butler asked Harry to dance a second time. “You’ve got beautiful legs.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“I ought to give you a screen test.”
“Get out of here.” Harry thumped his back with her left hand.
“You’re very attractive. The camera likes some people. It might like you.” He paused. “What’s so curious is that even professionals don’t know who will be good on-screen and who won’t.”
“Rhett,” she joked because she knew it was Maury, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Ha.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Just the pretty ones.”
“In fact, I heard you have a car full of vital essences, so you must have said something to BoomBoom.”
“Oh!” His voice lowered. “What was I thinking?”
Part of Maury’s charm was that he never pretended to be better than he was.
“Hey, I’ll never tell.”
“You won’t have to. She will.” He sighed, “You see, Harry, I’m a man who needs a lot of attention, female attention. I admit it.”
Stonewall and Garfield, dancing near them, turned their heads. “You don’t give a damn who you seduce and who you hurt. You don’t need attention, you need your block knocked off,” Kendrick Miller, as Stonewall, mumbled.
Rhett danced on. “Kendrick Miller, you’re a barrel of laughs. I say what I think. You think being a repressed Virginian is a triumph. I think you’re pathetic.”
Kendrick stopped. Coach Hallvard stepped back.
“Guys. Chill out,” Harry told them.
“I’ll meet you after the dance, McKinchie. You say where and when.”
“Are we going to fight a duel, Kendrick? Do I get the choice of weapons?”
“Sure.”
“Pies. You need a pie in the face.”
Harry dragged Maury backward. She had heard about Kendrick’s flash temper.