Dottie looked at her suspiciously. “Well,” she said, “if you want to get all tragic and everything.”
Susan twirled the rose in her hands. “No, honey,” she said. She had never called another girl 'honey' before. 'Honey' was what Marcia called people she considered drips. “No, I don't want to get tragic. I want to have fun, real fun. I honestly do.”
She knew what she was doing. She was starting the story: Susan Stassos got nasty about failing to win. Dottie would tell everyone. She was a good mimic and she would do Susan, standing tense at the edge of the dance floor, twirling her rose and saying, in a voice Dottie would borrow from Marlene Dietrich, 'Honey, no vun hass any fon, not reeely.'
“Well,” Dottie said. “There's no real trick to it. Fun's the easiest thing in the world, especially for someone like you.”
“Someone like me,” she said.
She thought about going home that night. Would her father be awake? Would he have been drinking? Now that she was less than she'd been, how could she ever say no? How could she ever say yes?
Todd returned from whatever duty he'd been attending to. “Hey, Sooz,” he said. “Hi, Dottie.”
“Hi, Todd,” Dottie said brightly, mockingly. She was racked by envy, electrified by it, and her efforts to be brisk and fun and carefree had eaten her flesh nearly to the bone.
“Sooz, you want to go outside for a minute?” Todd asked. “It's a nice night, I wouldn't mind a little breath of air.”
“All right,” Susan said. “See you later, Dottie.”
“See you,” Dottie said, and as Susan left with Todd she knew Dottie was already looking for someone to tell the story to. No vun hass any fon, not reeely.
Susan went with Todd to the asphalt square immediately outside the cafeteria, where students were officially permitted to go if they left the dance. Beyond the square, which was mercilessly lit, stood the mullioned bulk of the gym and, beyond that, the empty football field. Several other couples whispered in the blaring circle of light. They registered Todd's and Susan's presence, shifted slightly. One, an ambitious boy from the junior class, abandoned his date to shake Todd's hand and discuss his own upcoming campaign for next year's presidency. “Congratulations, Susan,” the boy added. Susan thanked him. Rays of deep red from her cheerleading sweater skimmed through the blinding air as Todd disengaged himself from the boy and led her to the far edge of the light. Out in the soft black, cigarettes flared. Scraps of cloud sped past the moon.
“What a night,” Todd said.
“Mm-hm. To tell you the truth, I'm glad it's almost over.”
He paused. He had something to say. Susan thought, 'If he's been practicing a consolation speech for me, I'll break up with him.' She hoped he would. She was ready to scream.
“Sooz?” he said. “Susan?”
“Yes?”
She twirled the rose, insolently. He was going to advise her to think of this as a learning experience, to thank God for giving her a chance to strengthen her character. She thought of Marcia, called 'princess' as a joke. Marcia moving out into the world, powerful and free.
“Well, you see,” Todd said, “I've been thinking.”
“Mm.”
“About next year. You know. We didn't apply to any of the same schools. And now it's too late.”
“I know.”
“And we haven't really talked about that.”
“That's right. We haven't.”
“So I've been thinking. Suzy. Wherever I go, I want you to come with me. If it's Yale, you know. Or Princeton.”
His face reddened, and his eyes took on a rheumy, unhealthy cast. She had never seen him flustered like this, except when they had sex. Suddenly she wanted to help him reestablish himself, to find his way back.
“What are you saying?” she asked softly.
“I guess. It seems like I'm saying I want us to get married. You and me. I want to marry you.”
The blood rushed to her head. All she could think of was, This is happening now, right now.' Someone wanted to marry her. He was asking her now, outside the cafeteria, on the night of her defeat. She thought, 'I'm not ready for this. This shouldn't be happening here.'
“Oh, Todd,” she said. “I don't know.”
“You don't know if you want to get married? Or you don't know if you want to marry me?”
“Well, both. No, forget I said that. This is just—well, could we?”
She didn't know what she meant by that. She wanted to be told whether getting married was