Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas #1)(89)

“Holly Grace, honey,” Winona remarked from her armchair on the other side of the living room. “Have you seen my crossword puzzle book? I had it right here, and now I can't seem to find it.”

Holly Grace retrieved the book from beneath the evening newspaper and sat down on the arm of her mother's chair to offer her advice on twenty-three across. Not that her mother needed advice, any more than she had really lost her crossword puzzle book, but Holly Grace didn't begrudge her the attention she wanted. As they worked on the puzzle together, she put hef arm around Winona's shoulders and leaned down to rest her cheek on top of her mother's faded blond curls, taking in the faint scent of Breck shampoo and Aqua Net hair spray. In the kitchen, Ed Graylock, Winona's husband of three years, was puttering with a broken toaster and singing “You Are So Beautiful” along with the radio. His voice kept fading out on the high notes, but he came on strong as soon as Joe Cocker slid back into his range. Holly Grace felt her heart swell with love for these two—big Ed Graylock, who had finally given Winona the happiness she deserved, and her pretty, flighty mother.

The anniversary clock chimed seven. Giving in to the vague nostalgia that had been plaguing her all day, Holly Grace stood up and gave Winona's cheek a peck. “If Dallie ever gets here, tell him I'll be at the high school. And don't wait up for me; I'll probably be late.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the front door, calling out to Ed that she would invite Dallie for breakfast in the morning.

The high school was locked up for the night, but she banged on the door by the metal shop until the custodian let her in. Her heels clicked on the concrete ramp that led into the back hallway, and as the old smells assaulted her, her footsteps seemed to be tapping out the rhythm of “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” with the Queen of Soul wailing right in her ear. She started to hum the song softly under her breath, but before she knew it she was humming “Walk Away Renée” instead and she'd rounded the corner to the gym, and then the Young Rascals were singing “Good Lovin'” and it was homecoming 1966 all over again....

Holly Grace had barely said more than three words to Dallie Beaudine since he'd picked her up for the football game in a burgundy 1964 Cadillac El Dorado that she knew for certain didn't belong to him. It had deep velour seats, automatic windows and an AM/FM stereo radio blaring out, “Good love....” She wanted to ask him where he got the car, but she refused to be the one to talk first.

Leaning back into the velour seat, she crossed her legs and tried to look like she rode in El Dorados all the time, like maybe the El Dorado had been invented just for her to ride in. But it was hard to pretend something like that when she was so nerveus and when her stomach was growling because all she'd had to eat for dinner was half a can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup. Not that she minded. Winona couldn't really cook anything more complicated on the illegal hot plate they kept in the small back room they'd rented from Agnes Clayton the day they'd left Billy T's house.

On the horizon in front of them, the night sky glowed with a patch of light. Wynette was proud of being the only high school in the county with a lighted stadium. Everybody from the surrounding towns drove over to see Wynette play on Friday nights after their own high school game had ended. Since tonight was homecoming and the Wynette Broncos were playing last year's regional champions, the crowd was even bigger than normal. Dallie parked the El Dorado on the street several blocks away from the stadium.

He didn't say anything as they walked along the sidewalk, but when they reached the high school, he slipped his hand into the pocket of a navy blazer that looked brand new and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. “Want a cigarette?”

“I don't smoke.” Her voice came out tight with disapproval, like Miss Chandler's when she talked about double negatives. She wished she could speak the words all over again, say something like, “Sure, Dallie, I'd love a smoke. Why don't you light one up for me?”

Holly Grace spotted some of her friends as they headed into the parking lot and nodded at one of the boys she'd turned down for a date that evening. She noticed that the other girls wore new wool skirts or A-line dresses bought just for the occasion, along with low square-heeled pumps that had wide grosgrain bows stretched across the toes. Holly Grace had on the black corduroy skirt that she'd worn to school once a week since her junior year and a plaid cotton blouse. She also noticed that all the other boys held hands with their dates, but Dallie had shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Not for long, she thought bitterly. Before the evening was through, those hands would be all over her.

They joined the crowd moving across the parking lot toward the stadium. Why had she said she would go out with him? Why had she said yes when she knew what he wanted from her—a boy with Dallie Beaudine's reputation, who'd seen what he'd seen.

They drew up next to the table where the Pep Club was selling big yellow mums with little gold footballs dangling from the maroon and white ribbons. Dallie turned to her and asked grudgingly, “You want a flower?”

“No, thank you.” Her voice echoed back at her, distant and haughty.

He stopped walking so suddenly the boy behind him bumped into his back. “Don't you think I can afford it?” he sneered at her under his breath. “Don't you think I've got enough money to buy you a goddamn three-dollar flower?” He pulled out an old brown wallet curled in the shape of his hip and slapped a five-dollar bill down on the table. “I'll take one of those,” he said to Mrs. Good, the Pep Club adviser. “Keep the change.” He shoved the mum at Holly Grace. Two yellow petals drifted down onto the cuff of her blouse.