by Kelli Kimble
Siggie put her hands on her hips. “Up, up. Into a chair, if you please.” Her tone was like a teacher scolding a child. I scowled at her and heaved myself to a seat at my desk.
“Now.” She smoothed a hand over my hair, then produced a clean hankie and wiped my face. “It can’t be as bad as all that? Could it?”
I managed to stop sobbing long enough to tell her. “I failed Professor Cane’s midterm.”
“Oh. Is that all?”
“Yes,” I blurted. “But it’s not as simple as one test. What if I fail the class? My grade point average will be blown, and Alpha Nu won’t accept me.”
“We can fix this,” she said. “Don’t worry. He’ll be posting the scores today, and we’ll study together. Okay?”
“Okay.”
When the grades posted, it turned out that Siggie had aced it. She tried to soften her success by claiming that dropping British Lit had left her that much more time to study. I appreciated the effort, though it wasn’t necessary for her to pretend she wasn’t smart.
Professor Cane didn’t return anybody’s bluebooks. Siggie said that wouldn’t matter. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a photographic memory. I remember all of the questions and,” she held up a finger and tapped it to her temple, “all of the answers, too.”
Except for meals and classes, we spent the entire day studying. We didn’t even work on the masquerade ball.
The ball.
I woke in the middle of the night, sweating. How could I have forgotten the ball? I went to my desk without bothering with a wrap or slippers and clicked on my lamp. Siggie didn’t move. I got out a piece of paper and wrote it down: ‘visit the dance studio for location scouting tomorrow!’. I underlined it three times and tacked it to the inside of the door, where we’d both see it as soon as we got up in the morning.
Satisfied, I got back in bed and pulled up the covers. Instead of counting sheep, I mentally recited the questions that would be on Professor Cane’s retest. I fell asleep almost instantly.
Chapter 12
“The parking lot isn’t very large.” Siggie and I were standing on the sidewalk outside Miss Helga’s School of Fine Dance. It was a squat brick building, set close to the street. A cement set of steps adorned with black iron railings led up to the black front door with an oval leaded glass window, and on either side of the steps, window wells yawned into the partially underground basement. The railings on the steps continued around the window wells, creating a wholesome picket fence feel; if picket fences were like the black iron fences surrounding a cemetery.
The parking lot was on the side and had only sixteen spots. But there was parking available at meters on the street as well as at a bank a few doors down. “I think it’ll be okay. Most of the people driving will be from Lowry, and you know how boys are. They’ll all pile into a handful of cars.”
Siggie nodded. “True. I guess that’s okay, then.”
We mounted the steps. The door had a big brass handle with a thumb latch and a door knocker in the shape of a ballet slipper. I lifted a hand to grasp the shoe, but the door swung open as I did.
“Oh,” I said, stepping back and bumping into Siggie.
An incredibly small woman was holding the door open. She wore a black leotard and tights with a sheer little skirt wrapped around and tied just above her waist. Her hair was slicked back into a perfect bun. Not a single hair was out of place; I found myself staring at its perfection.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Hello,” I said, snapping my eyes to meet hers. “My name is Iris Hond. Yesterday Professor Cane asked you if you’d be interested in renting your studio to me for a night?”
She blinked. “Are you asking or telling?”
“Um, are you Helga?”
“Yes. Miss Helga.” Her eyes traveled up and down my body. “You have good structure. Do you dance?”
“No, ma’am. I mean, I know basic dance steps. But I’m not a dancer.”
Her eyes shot to Siggie. “What about you? You have a fine neck. Nice and long.” She stepped forward and ran a finger along Siggie’s neck, which wasn’t easy because Siggie was easily a head taller than her.
“My mother made me take tap dancing lessons until I was twelve,” Siggie said. “I hated it. It gave me shin splints.”
Helga’s nose wrinkled. “Shin splints are for the weak.”
This was way off track.
“Are you interested in renting out the studio, then?” I asked.
“Of course. What entrepreneur says no to a business opportunity?”
“Terrific. Maybe you could show us around before we decide?”
“Yes. Come inside. I think you’ll be pleased.”
We entered into a lounge area. It was filled with baroque furniture that appeared expensive but was on the wrong side of worn. Heavy brocade drapes hung from floor to ceiling at intervals around the room. They were all drawn shut.
“This is the waiting area. The mothers of the smaller girls often stay during class to watch.” She pulled open a set of drapes, revealing a window into another room. It was a dance studio, lined on two walls with mirrors. A wooden rail at waist height bisected the mirrors. At the far end of the room, there was a raised platform, just the right size for a band.
“I imagine that you would have your dancing in that room, and your punch bowl and mingling in here. Also, through that door there is the hall to the coatroom and the facilities. You may look around if you wish.”
“It’s perfect,” Siggie said. “Would you mind if we decorated? Crepe paper and balloons?”
“So long as everything is returned to its original state before the next class.”
“We’re looking for a Saturday night. What time is your last class held on a Saturday?”
“Three o’clock. We don’t have class on Sunday. You’ll have the entire day to tidy up and whatnot.”
“Sounds like we have a deal.”
* * *
“This is my mother’s punch bowl, and I expect it to be returned in one piece.” Shirley heaved the enormous bowl onto the table.
“Isn’t that the punch bowl from the sorority house?” I asked. It looked just like the one they had out at every event they held. I should know; I ended up standing around it with the same six people every time. Someone in Alpha Nu, I’m assuming Shirley, is very good at making punch. I hoped the recipe that I’d gotten from Miss Helga would stand up against hers.
“Whatever. Don’t break it.” She centered the bowl on the table. Mimi came in with a box and they opened it to reveal an insane number of punch glasses. She and Shirley arranged them on the table in lines like little cut-glass soldiers.
“Thank you for bringing that. I don’t know how I didn’t think of how we were going to serve punch,” I said.
“Don’t mention it. If this is the biggest snag in your party, this is in the bag.” Shirley winked at me as she and Mimi grabbed their coats. “We’ve got to go get dressed.” She looked at her watch. “You ladies know you have less than two hours, right?”
I nodded and smiled. I needed them to believe that everything was under control. As soon as they were out the door I sagged into a chair.
The other freshmen were busy hanging crepe paper streamers and blowing up balloons in the studio. My mind was spinning with details. The decorations still needed to be completed, the band needed to be let in to set up, Jacob hadn’t yet brought the canapes or the ingredients for the punch, and none of us were dressed.
“Where is Jacob?” I moaned. Siggie passed by, her arms loaded with tissue paper balls that she’d made.
“He’ll be here,” she trilled. She’d been impossibly upbeat since I’d passed my retake of Professor Cane’s exam with a solid eighty-one percent. She’d taken it as a sign that her calling was teaching. She’d already made an appointment with the head of the education department to see about setting it as her major field of study. She began hanging the balls in clusters of three in strategic places around the room.
“Thanks. Now stop worrying. The decorations are almost done, and Jacob and the band will be here. I’ve got my makeup kit in the ladies’ room. We’ll be fine.”
Movement from the front door window caught my eye; I almost cried with relief. It was Jacob arriving. He was rooting around in the back seat and as I watched, he emerged carrying two large grocery sacks. He spotted me through the window and flashed me a brilliant smile: the kind where his eyes crinkle up in just the right way that makes my heart skip over itself. He came around the car and bounded up the steps as I opened the door for him.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said. I wanted to fall apart, but there wasn’t time. “What time did you tell the band? They haven’t arrived.”
He set down the bags and went back outside, pecking me on the cheek as he passed. “That’s because I told them to come at six-thirty. We’re paying them by the half hour, so there’s no sense in having them show up too soon.”
“Oh.”
“You worry too much. Everything will be fine.” He opened the trunk and pulled out a large pink box.
“Is that the cake? You had the cake in your trunk?” I rushed down the steps to help. “It’s going to taste like car fumes.”
“I figured it was better for it to arrive in one piece,” he said. “I’ve got it. Can you grab those boxes from the deli? Those are your canapes.”
I took the remaining boxes from the trunk and dashed after him. “Don’t take that out of the box. I don’t want it to get stale.”
“I’m not taking it out of the box.” He glanced into the studio. “Decorations look great. Why don’t you make the punch? I’ll go for the ice and by the time I get back you should be ready for it.”
“You haven’t gotten the ice yet?”
“We’ll be fi-ne,” Siggie sang. “Look. The decorations are all done. All that’s left to do is the punch. We’ll unbox all the food right before we open the doors.”
“Siggie knows what’s what,” Jacob said. “I’ll be back soon. Now don’t you run off.”
I harrumphed but he didn’t pay any attention.
Siggie pointed to the punch ingredients in the grocery sacks. “You’d better get to it.”
“Fine.” I set about making the punch while she and the other freshmen arranged all of the waiting room furniture into a series of small gathering areas more suited to conversation. I smoothed out Miss Helga’s recipe and followed it to the letter. When it was all mixed, I sampled it. It wasn’t as good as Shirley’s, but it would do. The other girls returned to campus to get dressed, but Siggie and I had our dresses waiting in the ladies’ room.
A few minutes later Jacob returned with the ice. He added it to the punch, and I stirred in another cup of sugar—just to make sure the ice wouldn’t dilute it.
“Everything looks fantastic,” he said. He turned in a circle, admiring all the right things.
“Smooth,” Siggie said.
Jacob cut a look at her and she flinched away. “I’m just going to get dressed,” she said, retreating down the hallway.
I was about to scold him, but he glanced at his watch and tapped at the face. He might be more nervous than I am.
“I’ve got to run off to get ready, too. I’ll be back a few minutes early, okay? The band will be here soon, so keep an ear out for them while you get dressed.”
“I will.”
“This is going to work, right?” he asked.
“I hope so.”
He stepped towards the door, then turned back and pulled me to him. “It’ll work.” He gave me one last reassuring squeeze and rushed out.
I joined Siggie in the ladies’ room, propping the door open so we could hear when the band arrived. She was already running a curling iron expertly through her hair. She pointed to a stool in front of a vanity. “Sit. Start doing your makeup.” I peered into her makeup kit. It was the only thing that Siggie owned that she kept meticulously organized. She’d never let me take contents from the kit directly before. I glanced over at her as I reached in and pulled out a lipstick that I’d coveted but been too proud to ask if I could try.
“I knew you’d pick that one,” she said.
I avoided her eyes in the mirror as I applied it. “I’m not sure it works for me.”
She eyed me in the mirror. “No. It does, just —” she picked a second tube and applied it over top. “Now it’s just right.” She stood back to admire her handiwork and then returned to her hair. “This is going to be a big day for us, Iris. I can feel in my bones that this is going to put us on the Alpha Nu map.”
“I sure hope so.” We settled into silence as we went about getting ready. I helped her curl the back of her hair, and she helped me zip up my dress. I was half-finished with my own hair when the band arrived. I went to let them in.
They smelled of cigarettes and beer, but it was too late to do anything about them now. I showed them where to set up and let them be. When I returned to the ladies’ room, Siggie was ready. She settled her mask over her face softly so that she didn’t disturb her makeup. She’d made a mask that depicted a red-headed woodpecker, and even though it had a sharp beak that one might interpret as a method of covering an over-large nose, it had feathers that gracefully swept up into her hair and blended with the fiery color. Her dress was a rich chocolate brown, and she had red gloves also adorned in red feathers.
“Oh, Siggie. You look fabulous.”
She preened under my attention, turning this way and that and smoothing the dress over her hips while she admired her reflection in the vanity mirror. “You think so? Maybe Jacob would introduce me to someone tonight. Do you think he might?”
“I don’t think he’ll have to.”
“You’re just saying that.” She guided me onto the stool and fussed with finishing my hair.
“Nah. You’re going to knock ‘em dead.”
She made a flourish with her hairbrush. “There. You’re done. Put it on, I’ve been dying to see it.”
Jacob and I had decided to come to the party as Mark Antony and Cleopatra, as there was buzz about the upcoming movie starring Liz Taylor. Instead of a mask, I was wearing a simple dress with fake gold snakes on my arms, plus I’d fashioned an elaborate headdress out of tin foil. Jacob would be wearing a gladiator outfit with a helmet. I set the headdress on my hair and she used bobby pins to secure it.
“Fabulous. It’s gorgeous.”
I didn’t want to preen in the mirror any longer, though. “The food. Come on, we’ve got to get the cake and all of the canapes set up before people start arriving.”
Siggie and I were carefully removing the cake from the box when Patty and Gilda arrived.
“Ladies. This looks promising.” Patty eyed the tissue paper balls and hovered over the cake. Gilda ran a finger around the inside of the cake box where some icing had smudged against the side.
“Good stuff,” she said, licking it off of her finger. “Where do we put our coats?”
We set down the cake and Siggie scrambled to help them with their coats while I tried to finish setting out the rest of the food.
“You can relax now, Iris. You’ve got this board thing in the bag,” Gilda said. I glanced towards the hallway, afraid that Patty would overhear. “Don’t worry. She agrees. The whole board does, ever since you brought this idea forward and took the lead.”
“Really?” I clasped my hands together and leaned in, eager for her approval. You look like an idiot! Stop acting like a freshman. I dropped my hands and stood up straight.
“Yes. And I’ve been quite interested to see what kind of material your boyfriend is going to bring for us to work with.” She winked and edged away as another group of Alpha Nu’s entered, all of them wearing beautiful dresses and a variety of masks.
I got caught up in the activities of taking tickets, welcoming the guests, checking coats in the coatroom, refreshing the food, and trying to get the band to play something other than Elvis. It was
nearly seven thirty before Jacob arrived. He came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes.
“Guess who?”
“I’m guessing it’s going to be somebody that I’m really mad at for messing up my Cleopatra eyeliner if he isn’t careful.”
He spun me around and held me back. “Ah, you look beautiful. A site for this poor soldier’s eyes.”
“Thank you. And what a soldier you are.” His costume stretched across his chest, emphasizing the way his shoulders had broadened since we took Anu’s pledge. Even though the costume was basically a skirt, it showed off his legs and the tan he’d developed over the summer.
The opening bars of a slow song came from the studio. He took my hand and kissed the knuckle. “Shall we?”
I let him lead me into the studio and we merged onto the dance floor. Jacob pressed me against him, and my insides felt like they were going to melt.
“It’s going well so far,” I said. “Gilda told me I can’t miss being on the board now.”
“That’s terrific,” he said. “That guy over there, that’s the Omega Nu president.” He tipped his head towards the corner. Patty was standing beside him. He towered over her but that didn’t seem to stop her from talking his ear off. He had black hair that curled around the edges of his penguin mask. He was also wearing a tuxedo, so he likely had a sense of humor.
Patty gestured around the room and smiled, an obvious air of pride around her. Her mask was a white cat, and she wore a pretty off the shoulder white dress that showed off her hourglass figure.
“That’s the Alpha Nu president talking to him,” I said.
He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear so that the vibrations of his voice tickled. “They seem to have a lot in common.”
The song ended, and we stopped dancing and began to clap.
“I’m thirsty,” he said. “Would you like to try some of your punch?”
The room was unaccountably warm. “Yes, please.” He took my hand and I followed him back to the reception room, over to the punch table. Shirley and Gilda were presiding over the bowl. Jacob filled two glasses and handed me one.
