Interrupted (10 page)

I
sat at my vanity and stuck my tongue out at the mirror.
I look like a madman
.

I pulled my tongue back in and tried to form an honest impression of myself. A pale, fluttery creature stared back at me, clad in airy green chiffon with deep brown waves and cherry lips. She was far too fine to be Allie Everly.

I sighed and stood, grabbing a pair of pumps from the closet. I glanced in the mirror one last time and adjusted my sash. A small smile threatened to escape my mouth.

“Allie!” Beatrice called. “The party started ten minutes ago!”

I pulled on the shoes and shut the bedroom door behind me. Beatrice looked up from across the hall and halted, her chin
dropping. She put a hand up to her mouth leaned against the stairwell. “Oh, Allie,” she whispered, “you look lovely.”

I let the smile escape. “Thank you.” I pranced down the stairs. “I suppose we should get going.”

“Russell will like that dress,” Beatrice commented as she opened the car door. “A pretty girl makes a man’s thoughts whirl,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“I highly doubt he’ll notice it.” The thought lifted my spirits higher. “He’s been a bit preoccupied with Charlie as of late.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “Really?” She seemed to ponder this in silence for a while. “That’s a good match for Charlie,” she decided.

“Mmm-hmm.” I leaned my cheek on the car window and watched the houses whizz by, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

“You know, you really do look stunning, Allie,” Beatrice said, looking over at me. “I truly am proud of you.”

I lowered my eyes.
She’s probably just saying that so I won’t sulk and embarrass her
. Nevertheless, I felt a wave of pride surge inside me — one I intended to keep private. “Thanks,” I muttered.

Beatrice looked at me intently for a few moments before sighing loudly. She parked the car in front of the Wilkinson’s house and climbed out, while I sat by myself just long enough to make her frustrated before I followed her into the house.

A Billie Holiday song greeted us as we entered, followed by a smiling Debra Wilkinson. “Beatrice and Allie!” She rushed over and enveloped us into her perfumed arms. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She looked around with a creased brow. “And where is Irene?”

Beatrice gracefully extracted herself from Mrs. Wilkinson’s arms. “She returned to Florida for the rest of the summer, until Daniel finishes training. I believe she’ll be home again in October.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Mrs. Wilkinson glanced at me and pinched my arm. “The young people are gathered on the terrace, Allie dear.” She winked and shooed me outside.

Once the adults were out of sight, I shivered. The sight of Mrs. Wilkinson’s overly made-up face so close to mine was burned into my permanent memory.

Charlie’s laughter drifted over the terrace. I caught sight of her blonde curls through the sea of people and made my way toward her.

Russell and Sam, as well as about a dozen other boys from school, were standing nearby, engrossed in whatever she was saying. If she wasn’t my friend, I’d be almost jealous.

Charlie caught sight of me and waved, her entire face coming alive. “Allie! Oh, Allie, how are you?” She pulled me close and hugged me, the scent of her perfume much sweeter than Debra Wilkinson’s.

I smiled at all the young men briefly before grabbing Charlie’s arm and pulling her aside. She giggled and squeezed my elbow, biting her lip. “Say, Allie, do I look okay? I caught Russell staring at me a few minutes ago.”

I snorted. “Charlie, every young man over there was gawking at you just now. How do you think you look?”

Charlie blushed and smoothed her blue gingham dress. She glanced me up and down and looked almost as shocked as Miss Beatrice. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” I grabbed her elbow and turned back to the young men. They straightened, smiling at us. “What was Charlie telling you all?” I asked.

“She was telling us about a puppy she found on the side of the road last week,” Russell answered, pulling at his necktie. He smiled at Charlie, looking more dopey than usual. “It was wonderful.”

Charlie beamed and looked down.

A new record started up, a jazzy waltz coming from the gramophone. Russell glanced at Charlie. “Would you like to dance?”

She shrugged, though her eyes were shining brilliantly. “I don’t see why not.”

I watched him lead her into the living room, until they disappeared behind a crowd of dancing couples. I crinkled my nose.
Isn’t that cute?
I turned to see all the young men staring at one boy from school, who watched me nervously.

“Say, Allie,” he croaked, “you wanna dance?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Not with you, Teddy Buchanan.” Almost as second nature, I glanced the rest of the boys over, daring them with my haughtiness. One by one, they each dropped their eyes. Only Sam continued to watch me, an unreadable look on his face.

Without another word, I spun on my heel and marched back inside the house, not sure whether or not to be ashamed of myself. I wasn’t sweet—that much was true. But I didn’t like to think of myself as a total brat. At least not in front of Sam.

I stood in a doorway, watching the dancing couples swing by. Charlie looked blissfully happy, laughing at everything Russell
had to say. And Russell, for his part, looked like the proudest man in the room.

The record died down, and the old hit “Cheek to Cheek” started. I swished my green skirts around me and stood on my tiptoes, gently swaying with the music. It was such a happy song.

I bent my head and twirled around, imagining I was dancing with a partner. A hand pressed against my back as someone grabbed my waist and began to lead me. I looked up to see Sam smiling down at me.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” I looked away, feeling my entire body turn red, but let him escort me onto the floor, where we took our place amidst the dancing couples. It was actually sort of fun—swinging and swaying to the music, Sam’s cheek near mine.

“This is a nice song,” Sam commented.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Did you ever see the movie?” Sam swung me under his arm.

“Yes. I saw it with Mama.”

“Really?” Sam laughed. “I never pictured her as the movie-going type.”

I bristled. “What do you mean?”

“Relax.” Sam squeezed my hand and smiled. “It wasn’t an insult.”

“Oh.” I pressed my lips together, unable to think of anything else to say.
His eyes are a very nice shade of blue. Funny I never really noticed it when we were little
. Maybe it was because he was now wearing a blue silk shirt.

Sam looked around. “Nice party.”

I nodded. “Very nice. The Wilkinsons have a lovely house.”
Is this his idea of small talk?
It was almost a little funny.
We’ve never run out of things to talk about before. Why now?

He glanced at Charlie and Russell, who were doing more staring into each other’s eyes than dancing. “They look very happy. Can’t say the same about Mrs. Wilkinson.”

Russell’s mother hovered in a corner, frowning at the couple. Sam laughed. “She has no reason to be worried. Charlie’s a sweet girl, despite being a bit of a flirt. She and Russell are good for each other.”

I just nodded again and let Sam spin me around, my chiffon skirt swirling around me. The music swelled, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Do you think we look at all like Fred and Ginger?”

Sam seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he looked around and lowered his voice. “I could try to sweep you into some fancy dive or lift, if you’d like. But I’m afraid it would draw a great deal of attention from our fellow dancers.”

I laughed. “No, this is fine.”

The song ended far too soon. Everyone stood and pretended to clap for the gramophone. Mrs. Wilkinson walked into the center of the room and motioned for everyone to stop. “Now, now, that’s enough.” She smiled. “I’m sure Mr. Astaire would be very pleased.” A murmur of laughter filled the room. Mrs. Wilkinson clapped her hands and announced, “Donations for the war effort will be taken in a few minutes, when we all retire to the parlor for some entertainment. Singers, musicians …” She looked around the room eagerly and added. “As well as anyone who wishes to perform for us. Meanwhile, enjoy one last song in your lover’s arms.” With that, she turned the gramophone back on and returned to her chair.

I left the floor and went back to standing in the doorway. Sam made his way over toward me and together we watched the couples spin around the room.

“So,” Sam said after awhile, looking at his hands. “Who was that kid you were so snooty to earlier?”

I didn’t take my eyes off the dancers. “What are you talking about?”

“That boy who nearly died of humiliation when you stuck up your nose and said you’d never dance with him.”

I smirked. “I didn’t say I’d
never
dance with him. I just prefer not to mix with the boys from school.”

“Why?” Sam was frowning at me. I looked away.

“They’re so …
classless
.” I shrugged, glancing at Sam. “You know what I mean.”

“But you danced with me.”

I laughed. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Sam bristled. “You could have pushed me away.”

“And risk embarrassing myself in front of everyone? I’d never do that.” I sighed and fiddled with my skirt. “Besides, I’ve known you practically forever. And you don’t even go to our school, so none of the boys will try to fight with you.”

Sam’s forehead wrinkled. “Boys fight over you?”

I tilted one side of my mouth and focused on the floor. “It happened in ninth grade, so I haven’t talked to any of them since.”

“Oh.” Sam went silent.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. My stomach felt queasy.
Did I offend him?

Just as I began to open my mouth, people began filing into
the parlor, and I was lost in the wave. Mrs. Wilkinson was standing by a piano on an impromptu stage like a queen on her dais, beckoning people toward her.

“Come, come!” she called, excitement in her voice. “You don’t expect us to just stand around and talk all night, do you? We need some real entertainment!”

The guests cheered; one fellow even whistled.

Mrs. Wilkinson laughed. “Now, now, settle down.” She looked around. “Who will be the first to perform? Don’t be shy, youngsters! No one here will judge.” She winked.

The room began to hum as people whispered among themselves.

“I’ll sing,” a timid voice said.

Everyone turned to see Charlie biting her lip, looking nervous. Russell began to clap loudly.

The crowd applauded, nodding their heads. Mrs. Wilkinson’s smile faltered only slightly as she swept out her arm grandly. “The stage is yours, Charlie. Do you perform without music?”

“I can.” Charlie allowed Russell to help her onto the stage. Once settled she straightened her skirt and chewed on her lip. “Um, do you think ‘My Funny Valentine’ is okay?”

“If you sing it, it is!” Sam shouted.

“Okay.” Charlie giggled. “Here goes …”

As Charlie opened her mouth and began to sing, she changed from stage-struck to confident star. Her eyes brightened and her cheeks flushed, while her honey-blonde curls shone in the candlelight.

She leaned on the piano as she sang, glancing at Russell before shyly looking away. Nearly every young man in the room
glared at the lucky man, not that he noticed, I’m sure. He was beaming up at Charlie.

Charlie hit the last note and trailed off, looking nervous again. An awkward silence fell over the room before everyone burst into a thundering applause.

“That was Charlotte Cooper.” Mrs. Wilkinson stepped onto the stage and, to my surprise, whispered something in Charlie’s ear. Charlie smiled and looked down at Russell, blushing.

“Did you know she could sing?” Sam asked me, clapping loudly.

I shrugged. “Charlie’s been my best friend for four years and sometimes I still feel like I don’t know that much about her. She’s never mentioned singing.”

There was another round of applause as Charlie bowed again and scurried off the little stage.

A few more amateur performances followed —a couple second-rate singers and a young dancer with some talent. Mrs. Wilkinson stepped back onto the stage and looked around, wringing her hands as she searched the crowd. “Come now,” she said, and I sensed a little desperation in her tone. “Doesn’t anyone else want to perform?” The audience was silent.

I looked around. All the young people around me ducked their heads, avoiding Mrs. Wilkinson’s stare. I didn’t blame them.

Beside me, Sam suddenly stood. “Alcyone Everly can play the piano.”

“What?” I whirled around and narrowed my eyes. He avoided my glance.

A disapproving murmur spread through the crowd. Beatrice
stood and frowned at Sam. “Allie doesn’t know how. I’ve been trying to convince her to take lessons for years.”

He shook his head. “She can play. Quite beautifully too.”

I glared at him. “What are you doing?” I hissed. He shrugged, his eyes wide and innocent.

“Allie, can you play a song?” Mrs. Wilkinson looked confused.

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Well, will you come up here? I think we’re all interested in hearing what you can do. Don’t let this fellow’s words disappoint us.” She waved a glove in Sam’s direction.

After giving Sam one last look, I made my way to the piano. I could feel the eyes of nearly one hundred partygoers boring into my back. “Do you have any sheet music?” I whispered to Mrs. Wilkinson.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no.” She lowered her voice. “None of us actually know how to play it.”

“Oh well …” I turned to the audience and forced myself to look happy.
I’ll just have to play something from memory
. I slid onto the bench and stretched my fingers. Just over the lid of the piano, I could see Beatrice watching me, a mixture of confusion and surprise on her face. I looked down and began to play.