Page 49

"C'mon," Craig urged. "Let's get those crowns before they decide they made a mistake."

I was in such a state of shock that I'm sure I looked like someone sleepwalking to the stage. I was to be the prom queen? Me? The town leper?

In a mock ceremony with lots of pomp and circumstance, trumpet and drum roll, we were coronated, and the others cheered and clapped. The photographer was snapping his pictures from all angles, and some of the other students who had brought cameras were doing the same. I even saw one of our chaperones, Mr. Kasofsky, taking pictures.

After the crowning, we had to dance by ourselves, like a bride and groom at a wedding, while a small spotlight followed us about the floor. I was terrified I would stumble or somehow look silly and awkward, but in Craig's strong embrace, I felt secure. He moved me about gracefully.

"I was afraid they'd choose Bobby and Charlene," Craig whispered. "They were our only real competition."

I glanced at Charlene. Although she had a soft smile on her face, I was sure she was disappointed. I felt sorry for her. In my mind she was really the most beautiful girl in the school, and Bobby cut a handsome figure, too.

"I guess in the end we were just too much for them," Craig added.

I looked up at him. Self-confidence was slipping quickly into arrogance, I thought. Maybe his mother was coming through, after all.

"I don't feel right about it," I said. "Charlene certainly dances better than I do, and she's prettier."

"The band didn't think so, and that's what matters most," he replied. "Don't be silly. Enjoy it," Craig said.

He was certainly basking in the attention.

"Won't my parents be speechless when they find out?" he muttered. "Dad's customers will be congratulating him, and he'll have to smile and thank them. I know my mother will permit herself to bask in the glory, even though she'll never admit she was wrong. Serves them both right. I hope they find it difficult eating crow."

I wished he wasn't so bitter about his own mother and father. It still bothered me that I was partly, if not wholly, to blame, and it made me feel funny to see him happier about making his parents uncomfortable than enjoying our moment for what it truly was.

The attention we received on first arriving was compounded by the coronation. Everyone wanted to know what our plans were for after the prom and the next day. An invitation to Ruth Gibson's house quickly became as valuable as an invitation to the White House. I was surprised by the girls who came to me to ask if I could get them and their dates invited.

"It's not my house and not my party," I said, blowing the ingratiating smiles off their faces.

"How quickly someone can become stuck up," Jennifer Todd muttered loudly enough for the other girls nearby to hear. Heads were nodding, and my welcome mat was quickly pulled out from under my feet and rolled up again.

Envy has a way of turning into resentment, I thought and wished we had made far less of a spectacular appearance. I had wanted only to have a good time, to have something to remember forever, a cherished remembrance to press into a photo album. I wasn't looking to conquer the school and become Miss Popularity.

Soon after, the group that was going to Ruth's house decided it might be time to leave. Some of them asked Craig, and he told them yes. The prom had run out of speed, especially for him. What else was there to do here after you had been crowned king?

"Now the real partying begins," he whispered to me as we left. "We're going to have a good time," he chanted. "My parents have failed to spoil this night for me. We've shown them."

That sounded that earlier sour note. I certainly didn't want us to have a good time in order to spite anyone. I wanted it to be our good time for ourselves, pleasing only ourselves, but Craig was on a tear about it now. During the last hour at the prom, I noticed he was behaving differently anyway. He kept leaving me to join his buddies around the punch bowl, which I knew had vodka in it. There was no smoking permitted inside the club, so those who wanted to smoke had to go outside. Craig joined them even though he didn't smoke. He left me alone for a good ten or so minutes, and when he returned, he was more hyper and excited. It was soon after that when the decision to leave was made.

We got into the car quickly and followed the line of cars off the hotel grounds, heading for Ruth Gibson's home. We were still wearing our crowns. I thought it was silly to keep them on, but Craig insisted.

"We have to wear them all night, even sleep in them," he joked.

It was just past midnight. The party at Ruth's house consisted of ten couples, but only three were going to sleep over. We were all taking one of the back roads, a shortcut that would get us there faster. With only our car headlights and the taillights of the cars ahead of us to illuminate the way through these secondary roads slicing through wooded areas, I suddenly felt as if I were in an eerie procession. It made me nervous.

"Here," Craig said, taking his hand off the steering wheel to hand me a dark cigarette. "Light one of these."

"I don't smoke, and I thought you didn't," I said. "It's not a cigarette, Alice. Don't you know what it is?"

I shook my head but smelled it.

"Is it . . . pot?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, laughing. "It won't make you sick, and you'll relax quickly." He reached for the cigarette lighter and held it toward me. I hesitated. "C'mon, hurry up. I want some, too. We have a right to celebrate. We're royalty."

Even more nervous now, I lit the joint and took a puff, blowing it out quickly and coughing. He laughed at me again.

"You have to hold it in," he said and took it from me to show me how to smoke pot.