Slow Dance in Purgatory(47)

“Well, I really don’t know what I’m wearing, Auntie. The dance is semi-formal, and I don’t seem to have anything that fits the bill. I wasn’t going to go at all, but my dance captain said I have to take tickets…” Maggie stopped abruptly, knowing that if she continued, she would lose her grip on her already crumbling control.

Aunt Irene pursed her lips prettily and tapped them with her left pointer finger. “I might have something that would work, Margaret. You go get cleaned up, and I will see what I can come up with.”

Maggie cringed inwardly. She could just hear Dara now. “Where did you get that dress, Baggie? It looks like something my grandmother would wear – sooo hot!!” Still, what Aunt Irene offered couldn’t be any worse than having nothing at all.

Maggie dragged herself to the bathroom dejectedly and put herself through the ritual of many a teenage girl. She was almost done blowing her long hair dry, when her aunt rapped smartly on the door.

“Maggie! Come see what I’ve found. Hurry! You’re running out of time.”

Maggie’s bed was covered in dress bags. Hope bloomed in her chest, and Maggie loosened the belt on her old pink robe as Irene began pulling down zippers right and left.

“Now this one was one I wore…“ Irene prattled about this dress and that as Maggie stepped into one dress after another. Several were very pretty, and most fit her very well. A few were too old for her, a few just too old, but when she slid a sleeveless sky blue A-line over her head and felt the skirt swish around her legs, Maggie’s heart soared. The mirror reflected back a dress that was simple enough in design and color that it still worked. It looked vintage not dated, and that suited Maggie just fine. It made the color of her eyes stand out, and her dark hair was a rich contrast to the pale blue. It fit perfectly. Her breasts filled out the fitted top, her waist looked tiny, and her arms and legs looked slim and toned.

“Oh, Maggie!” Irene clapped her hands like a young girl. “That dress was made for you. Granted! It was made over 50 years ago, but even still! I wore that to the homecoming dance when I was seventeen. I think I still have the matching pumps!” Irene flew from the room to closets unknown, and Maggie reverently smoothed the gauzy, full skirt. The thought of attending the dance now filled her with excitement instead of dread.

Maggie carefully peeled the dress over her head and reverently zipped it back into its protective sheath. Irene did indeed have the matching pumps, still in perfect condition, and wonder of wonders, even their feet were the same size. Maggie had some little diamond hoops that used to be her mothers, and she tucked them carefully into her duffle bag with her dance things. Twenty minutes later, she was on her way back to the school in Irene’s Cadillac. It seemed she had a fairy godmother after all.

***

When everyone left class for the day, Dara Manning checked her makeup in front of the dance room mirrors and tried a sexy move, watching to see whether she looked as hot as she thought she did. Oh, yeah. She so rocked that move. She would like to see Baggie O’Bannon try that one. Thinking about Maggie just made Dara mad, and she stomped over to the sound system to retrieve her music and shut everything down.

As captain of the team, her coach left her in charge every once in a while. She should leave her in charge more often. In fact, Dara thought, she should have had some say in who made the team and who got cut from the team in the first place. She would never have let Maggie set foot on the dance room floor. The rest of the team seemed to think she was something special. Coach raved about her when she tried out. Big damn deal. Their coach was a fat has-been with four kids and stretch marks. Who cares if she danced in college or had a master’s degree in dance?

“If I had my way, we would have a new coach, and Maggie O’Bannon would never have made the team. Freaking four eyes needs to be taken down a peg,” Dara muttered to herself, flipping her perfectly streaked hair.

The lights in the room flickered erratically, and Dara spun to the door to see who else was in the room. The door remained closed, and no one was there. It was probably Derek, playing a joke on her. Derek was Dara’s boyfriend, and he loved pulling mean pranks. Dara hadn’t ever been on the receiving end, however, and she didn’t much care for it. Derek wasn’t as good looking as she was. His acne scars detracted from his otherwise handsome face, but he was Captain of the football team and very popular. He would do until something better came along.

The lights flickered again, and this time Dara was facing the door. Nobody was there.

“This school is jacked up,” Dara complained, grabbing her jacket and her purse. “Somebody needs to upgrade the electrical, obviously.”

The lights went out completely. The dance room had no windows, so with the lights out it was totally black. Dara cursed as she made her way toward where she knew the door was. Feeling along the wall, she reached the door and wrenched on the handle. It felt like someone was holding it from the other side. Dara pounded angrily on the door.

“Derek! This isn’t funny! I have to get home and get ready for the game. Stop playing around!”

Dara pulled and pushed on the door as hard as she could, wiggling the handle and shouting threats at anyone who might be able to hear. The door handle didn’t budge. It was stiff and unyielding, and Dara felt a jolt of panic that she might be locked in for real. A light flickered behind her, and Dara whirled, her fear kicking up a notch, as the sound system that she had just turned off lit back up. She reached for the light switch alongside the door. She clicked it up and down. Nothing. The power must be out. But then how was the sound system doing all that wild blinking?