Last Dance by Caroline B. Cooney Read Free Book Online Page B

head. “Without a man in your life? Allow me.”
    Emily struggled to paste a smile on her face to show him it was nice of him to be gallant. “Well, my boyfriend was coming for me, but my mother hung up on him, and if he does drive down, here, he won’t know where to find me, and I’m not really sure what to do.” She took a breath before asking if she could make a toll call on his phone, and Christopher said, “So where’s the dance? At the high school again?” Christopher shook his head slightly. “I was a little out of it that time, but as I recall the theme was pumpkins. I laughed so hard.”
    Emily said uncomfortably, “Actually the dance is at Rushing River Inn.”
    “No kidding?” Christopher took her arm and guided her toward his front door.
    “If I could use your phone and call the O’Connors,” Emily said hesitantly, “then I could probably straighten this out.”
    “Nah, I’ll just take you there. He’ll show up. Don’t worry. Just let me get my license and my car keys. You think I’m dressed up enough for a dance?”
    Christopher—asking if he was dressed up enough? Although he certainly did look good in a shirt and jeans, most of the boys would wear a jacket and tie. But he’ll only be dropping me off, she thought, so what difference does it make? She said, “Christopher, if I could just use your phone? And if you don’t mind, the bathroom, too—I—um—it’s been—”
    But Christopher did not head for the door to his house. He opened the car door instead. It was a beautiful scarlet sports car and even as he led her to it he smiled at the car, adoring it, and himself in it. Emily wanted to rip her arm free and race across the grass and—
    What is the matter with me? Emily thought. Am I such a jerk that the only solution I have to anything is racing around backyards? I cannot spend my whole life coping by running away!
    Her stomach hurt so much now she felt as if they should go to the clinic, not the dance.
    “I love to crash parties,” Christopher said, with the same smooth smile. “You’ll be my ticket, Emily.” And he linked his arm in hers, securely, like a chain.
    It was not that Anne needed anything, it was just the female habit of checking to be sure her purse was where she had left it.” What’s the matter? Con asked, watching her.
    “My purse. It’s gone.”
    “Got to be right there,” Con said.
    “It isn’t. Con, I know I set it on this chair.”
    “You must not have,” Con said tiredly. “Because the chair is empty.”
    “Which purse was it?” Beth Rose asked. “That big white straw one?”
    “No. The big pink leather bag.” Anne kept turning, as if the purse must be lying at an angle to her vision, and if she just found the right place to stand, she would spot it. Molly hid a grin.
    “What did you bring it for anyway?” Con asked irritably. “You never need any of that stuff you’re always hauling around.”
    Molly loved how everybody reacted on cue. Even Gary, who usually leaped to help any damsel in distress, didn’t leap this time. Beth Rose, if she carried a purse at all, carried tiny cloth ones on long shoulder straps so that the purse dangled, hardly noticed. Tonight Beth Rose had a tiny clutch bag in silver fabric with sparkles. Molly saw how Gary looked with satisfaction at his girlfriend, who didn’t lug suitcases around and then lose them and embarrass him.
    Beth Rose said, “Well, maybe you left it in the car, Anne. Con, why don’t you go look in the car for her?”
    Con glared at Beth Rose and then controlled himself and said, “I don’t think she—”
    “I didn’t leave it in the car. I distinctly remember putting it on the chair,” Anne said. “Somebody must have taken it.”
    Con heaved a sigh. An enormous sigh, out of all proportion to the problem. A sigh that implied that Peace in the Middle East rested upon Con’s shoulders. Now Beth Rose glared at Con, and Gary muttered to Beth Rose to take it easy, and Mike looked at