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House of Secrets by V.C. Andrews (7)

6

I HAD BEEN in Alison’s neighborhood many times, but when she had begun to date Ryder steadily, I paid attention to the addresses and noted her family’s home. Mr. Stark’s house wasn’t far from it, either, and I had taken rides with Aunt Cathy and him often, so I knew what Alison’s neighborhood was like. Most of the homes were modest two-story Queen Annes like hers, and most were kept nicely, with patches of lawn and some landscaping. Very few were new structures, but there were many that had been somewhat upgraded with improved landscaping and better siding.

Once, when my mother was with us and we were passing through this area on our way to a mall to shop, she wondered aloud what it would be like to live in a house that wasn’t a mansion. Maybe these houses situated closely to each other on quiet streets brought back memories of her own home back in Guildford, England. On more than one occasion, she told me that although her father had been a banker, they certainly didn’t live in a posh mansion.

“It’s noisier than it is at Wyndemere, that’s for sure,” Mr. Stark had told her. “Ryder Davenport could play drums in his room and no one would notice. There was a joke about Wyndemere. Old man Davenport could invite guests for a few days or so and never know if they had left or not.”

My mother didn’t say anything more when he had told her that. She stared out the car window with a slight smile across her lips when we saw children on a front lawn running in a circle around a woman who looked like their mother. It had gotten me thinking. What, I wondered, did my mother really miss? How close were she and her sister and parents when she was young? How brokenhearted was her mother when my mother left? Did she think her father would regret casting her out of their family and contact her? Were he and she, as Mrs. Marlene would say, cut from the same cloth, both too proud to compromise or apologize? For years, all these questions surely haunted her. It was no wonder that she resisted reminiscing with me. It was like salting a wound.

All these feelings and questions returned to my memory as we continued to Alison’s house.

Ryder mistook my introspection for nervousness. “Hey,” he said, reaching forward to touch me on the shoulder. “Relax. You’re going to have a lot of fun.”

Paul looked at me as if doubting that was the strangest thing possible.

“I’m not nervous,” I said. Of course, that was a lie.

“You’re in good hands tonight,” Paul assured me with a gleeful smile. “Right, Ryder?”

“Just keep them on the steering wheel,” Ryder said.

“Until we stop,” Paul replied, and laughed at his own joke, if it was a joke.

When Paul pulled into the Reubens’ driveway, Ryder opened the door almost before he had come to a stop. He stepped out quickly and hurried to the front door. In my heart of hearts, I wished he was rushing to my door with that much enthusiasm and excitement. He disappeared inside for a few moments, and when he reemerged with Alison, her parents were with them.

Alison’s father was a tall, stout man with broad shoulders and hair closer to Alison’s color than her mother’s, which was a darker brown, but it was obvious that Alison had inherited most of her pretty features from her mother, who really did look like she could be her older sister. Ryder gestured for us to get out and approach them.

“What’s up?” Paul asked me.

I saw the camera in Alison’s father’s hands. “They want to take our picture.”

“Oh, yeah?” He nodded. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to that.”

I sighed at his attempts to be humorous and got out. Paul followed. Who was more into themselves, I wondered, snobby rich girls or sports heroes? The only thing Paul had said about my gown when we had gotten into the car was “Nice.”

“Nice?” Ryder had said, laughing at Paul’s response. “We’ll have to work on your vocabulary. We’re not playing softball. She looks more than just nice.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Very nice,” he’d corrected himself.

Paul struck me as someone who couldn’t easily be embarrassed, mainly because he didn’t realize he was being kidded. He had simply shrugged. To be fair, I hadn’t given him much of a compliment, either. I wouldn’t say he was handsome in his tuxedo. He looked very uncomfortable, in fact, or, as Mrs. Marlene might say, like a fish out of water. On the way to Alison’s, he’d said he wouldn’t want to try to pitch wearing such a straitjacket. I’d looked at Ryder, who shook his head and smiled at me as if we both knew a secret.

As we approached the Reubens now, Alison stepped out to look at me in my dress. She was wearing a long prom dress with a shirred crisscross bodice and a sweetheart neckline. It had side cutouts and a wide strap that connected in the back. It had a natural waistline and cascaded loosely over her hips. I loved her chandelier earrings. I doubted any other girl would look as sexy.

“Oh, you look absolutely beautiful, Fern!” her mother cried. “That is a beautiful dress.”

“Yes, you do,” Alison said, with an expression I thought was a cross between surprise and disappointment.

“I love your dress,” I said, still worried that Bea Davenport might be right. My dress was out of fashion, and the moment I entered the prom, everyone would look at me and think I was obviously wearing a hand-me-down.

Ryder stepped up quickly to pin Alison’s corsage on her dress.

“Very pretty corsage,” her mother said. “Yours, too, Fern.”

“Thank you.”

“C’mon, the four of you stop jabberin’ and stand together here,” her father ordered. “Boys on the outside, right, Tess?”

“Yes, that will be nice. We’ll make copies for all of you,” she promised.

Paul watched how Ryder put his arm around Alison’s waist and did the same with me. Alison’s father took a half dozen shots, and then Alison’s mother hugged her and wished us all a great time.

“You drive carefully,” Alison’s father told Paul. Warned him sharply was more like it.

“I’ve got it under control,” Paul said. “Just like any other game.”

It was hard to contain the excitement in the air when Paul backed out of the driveway and we were on our way. Everyone was talking at once most of the time.

“You know, my hairdresser did me a favor and fit Fern in today,” Alison told Paul. It was as if she wanted to absorb or take credit for every compliment.

“Great. I did my own,” Paul said, laughing and missing the point.

Alison smirked. “Men always have it easier than women. Did you tell Ryder what the stylist called you?” Alison asked me.

A flutter of panic flew through my breasts.

“No.”

“What did he call you?” Ryder asked.

Before I could respond, Alison blurted, “He called her the princess of Wyndemere.”

“No kidding. What do you think of that, Paul?” Ryder asked him. “You might be with the prom queen tonight.”

“Does that mean I’ll be king?”

“Not necessarily, no,” Ryder said. “Each is chosen independently.”

“Who chooses them?”

“Traditionally, the band,” Ryder replied.

“Okay. I’ll offer them all tickets to the playoffs. They’ll want to see that.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’ll do it for you, Paul,” Ryder joked.

The senior class prom committee had decorated the gym with hundreds of multicolored balloons and crepe paper. The basketball nets and backboards were collapsible and had been moved to the far corners. The bleachers were also folded up and away, making for more space. Tables and chairs had been rented, the tables also with multicolored paper tablecloths. At the end opposite to where refreshments had been set up, a stage had been put together for the live band, a local Hillsborough group simply called Flight, with a lead female singer who didn’t look much older than us, two guitar players, a drummer, and a keyboard player. They had recorded their first album, and Ryder had negotiated a good deal for his class by giving them permission to sell their CDs tonight, which would also serve as mementos of the prom. A professional photographer had a backdrop set up for couples to have their photos snapped, printed, and framed before they left the prom. The backdrop made it look like the couples were standing on the edge of a cliff with the ocean behind them.

A half dozen of our teachers, some with their wives and husbands, were scattered around the gym to serve as chaperones. As soon as we arrived, the prom committee, headed by Grace Richards, practically attacked Ryder with their problems and questions regarding everything from the refreshments to the entertainment. Each was trying to impress Ryder with how important her problem was. Paul got into a conversation with some of his teammates, and Alison and I stood off to the side, where she soon attracted most of the girls in her class, who circled her with their excitement about her dress, giving me hardly a glance.

I looked for the half dozen girls in my class who also had been invited, but they were off with their escorts talking with girls from the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grades. None of them was really a close friend of mine anyway. I began to feel foolish just standing there while Paul joked with his teammates about their tuxedos. Their girlfriends were all eleventh and twelfth graders and obviously hung around together.

Finally, Ryder broke free and returned. He took one look at me and shouted to Paul. “You’re here to dance, idiot,” he told him.

Paul looked stunned for a moment and then nodded. “Hey,” he said. “I’m not the best dancer, but no one seems to care. How about you?”

I shrugged. I wanted to enjoy dancing, but I was having a hard time getting into the mood. I knew the moment we stepped out there, we’d attract lots of attention. Paul’s comical moves made me look foolish, too. When I glanced at some of the kids looking at us, I saw the grins and laughter. Off to our right, Ryder and Alison were dancing. They looked so graceful together; it was like they had been dancing together most of their lives.

Paul’s friends began to kid him, which only made him more self-conscious and more awkward.

“Let’s get something to eat,” I suggested after an uncomfortable ten minutes or so. Anything to get off the dance floor with him.

He practically leaped at the idea and headed for the refreshment tables.

“You’re a good dancer,” he told me. “I just don’t do it enough.” He handed me a plate. “If you want to dance with someone else, too, that’s all right,” he said.

I looked at him in confusion. “Who would I want to dance with but you? You’re taking me to the prom. The other boys have dates, too. What are you talking about?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t mind sharing when there’s plenty to share.”

I smirked and concentrated on choosing what to eat, but it wasn’t long before something unpleasant came to mind. We sat at one of the tables, and when I looked around, I saw two of Paul’s teammates looking our way and talking with wry smiles. I knew they were looking at me. A familiar alarm bell sounded in my heart. Were they all taking bets on whether Paul would score tonight in something besides a baseball game?

Ryder and Alison made their way to our table.

“You guys that hungry?” Ryder asked.

“You knew I would be,” I said.

I made it sound like something far more intimate than it was, but Alison didn’t show the slightest sign of suspicion. Nevertheless, Ryder explained to her how he found out from my mother that I had been so nervous all day that I hardly ate.

“I don’t get why you keep saying she’s nervous,” Paul said. “What’s to be nervous about? It’s not the ninth inning with the top of the opposite team’s batting order coming up.” His wide grin with food between his teeth made him look clownish.

“Let’s get something to eat and join them,” Alison told Ryder. “I didn’t eat that much today, either,” she added, as if that was something he should acknowledge as well.

He shrugged and asked if we wanted anything else, which put the idea in Paul’s mind. He rose to return to the refreshment tables with Ryder and Alison. I nibbled on my food and stared down at the plate. I felt like I had gotten into a rocket anticipating a wonderful liftoff that had fizzled, and I hadn’t been here a full hour yet. I was in such deep thought about it that I didn’t realize Shane Cisco had slipped into Paul’s chair.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, grinning.

I didn’t really know him. To me, he was just another junior who hovered around Ryder. I did know he was the school’s best wrestler in the 163-pound weight class. Ryder had mentioned it a few times. I had little or no interest in the sport and had never attended a bout. What I did know about Shane was that his father owned one of the biggest lumberyards in the region, and the Ciscos had a very large, modern ranch-style home with a pool and tennis courts. He had a sister in the sixth grade.

What I did think about him whenever I did look at him in school was that his dark-brown eyes were too close together and his chin was too square. His head seemed too small for his wide, well-built shoulders. He was a good two or three inches shorter than Ryder and walked with his elbows out, like someone who expected to be tossed into a fight at any moment.

“You coming to my party after this?” he asked.

“I guess,” I said. “We’re with Ryder and Alison.”

“My parents and sister are on a weekend trip to see my uncle, so we got the house to ourselves. Six bedrooms,” he added, grinning so hard that it tightened his lips into thin, pale red rubber bands.

I simply stared at him.

“Got the maid coming in the morning, so no one will know nothing.”

“Hey,” Ryder said, approaching with Alison right beside him. Paul was still at the refreshment tables. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing. Fern and I were just talking about the after-party at my house.” Shane stood up. “I was giving her the lay of the land. Or lay of the night,” he added. “Better get back to my date. You know how demanding Babs Sanders can be. I might need help.”

“A champion wrestler like you?” Alison said. “I’m sure you’ll come up with the right moves.” She glanced at me and winked.

“Yeah, well, I did develop a new hold,” he replied, and sauntered off.

Alison sat quickly. “What did he say to you?” she asked.

Ryder sat, and Paul started toward our table.

If I complained too much, I would ruin everyone else’s special night, I thought. “He just wanted me to know how great his party was going to be.”

“He was born bragging,” Ryder said. “He’s the one member of the team Coach Primack doesn’t have to work on developing the necessary self-confidence.”

Paul sat with another full plate of food. Alison moaned jealously about how he could eat so much without gaining weight.

“Yeah, it drives my mother nuts,” he said. “She says she just looks at food and gains five pounds.”

Just as it was in the school cafeteria, Ryder and Alison’s table became the center of attention. Couples drifted over to comment positively about the band, the food, and the decorations. Alison was once again involved with her classmates, and Paul got into a discussion with a couple of his teammates about the upcoming big baseball game. I must have looked very bored and alone. Suddenly, I felt someone grab my right hand. I looked up at Ryder.

“Let’s have a dance,” he said.

I looked at Alison. She narrowed her eyes and looked surprised. Paul didn’t even notice I had gotten up.

Ryder and I walked onto the dance floor.

“Don’t worry. He’ll get into it as the night unfolds,” Ryder told me.

“Not unless I get a catcher’s mitt,” I shouted over the music, the volume of which had been boosted.

Ryder laughed and we started to dance.

I realized we had never danced together. Except for when we were both very little, we had never even listened to music together. In my mind’s eye, I kept envisioning how well he danced with Alison. Timidly, I began to improve my moves and get more into the rhythm. I saw how pleased and amused he was with my growing enthusiasm. It challenged him to do more than just go through the motions. Neither of us realized what was happening around us, but other couples had paused to watch us.

With my eyes down, I was moving in a familiar fantasy. There was no one else in the world but Ryder and me. I was so filled with happiness and pleasure that I couldn’t prevent myself from being uninhibited. It wasn’t until some of the boys around us began calling to Ryder and warning him he was taking on more than he could handle that I felt myself come back down to earth.

Shocked and embarrassed, I looked at Alison. She was smiling, but it was a different sort of smile, one filled with suspicion. Paul was simply sitting back and watching with his arms folded, looking like he had no idea why there was so much excitement and reaction to what Ryder and I were doing.

I glanced at Ryder. He nodded, signaling we should return to our table.

“Now, that was a workout I didn’t expect,” Ryder told Alison.

“You both looked amazing out there,” Paul said.

“Yes,” Alison followed. “Have you two been practicing together or something?” she asked, that little note of jealousy ringing loudly enough for me to hear, if no one else had.

“Actually . . .” Ryder looked at me. “We’ve never danced together.”

“I don’t even know what music he likes,” I told Alison.

“Do I like music?” he asked her.

She laughed. “Let’s get our pictures taken before we forget,” she suggested.

“Right. Paul?”

“Huh? Sure,” he said, rising.

The four of us went over to the backdrop. Ryder and Alison went first. They looked so perfect together that the photographer had no suggestions for how they should stand. Just before he took the picture, however, I saw Ryder’s eyes drift toward me. The photographer saw that, too, and suggested they take another. This time, he emphasized where their attention should be directed.

When Paul and I went to the backdrop, the photographer had to move Paul’s body physically to get him to fit well into the photograph. I was afraid I would look terribly unhappy, so I concentrated my thoughts on Ryder’s expression while we were dancing. It helped me smile, and the photographer was satisfied.

“I think that’s harder than dancing,” Paul said, which brought some laughter to the three of us.

Ryder insisted we all return to the dance floor, however. The music was getting good. “Just watch her and do what she does,” he advised Paul.

“I’ll try,” Paul said. “I like what she does.”

I decided it would be wise for me to concentrate on him and not Ryder now. I urged him to be more relaxed and not worry about what others might think. “Don’t look at anyone else. Concentrate the way you would on the other team’s batter,” I added. He liked that, and I did think he began to do better.

The dance I had done with Ryder had given me a new shot of energy and passion for dancing. Like most of the girls I knew, when I danced now, I was in my own world. I could have been all alone out here on the dance floor. When we took breaks to get something to drink, some of the girls and even their dates complimented me.

Shane Cisco made a point of coming over to me to tell me that I was a very sexy dancer. “You look like you’re having one orgasm after another out there,” he whispered, then laughed and retreated before I could respond.

Ryder was paying all his attention to Alison now. I think he had sensed that same note of jealousy I had. I kept us away from them and got Paul back on the dance floor. At one point, there were only a half dozen couples dancing, us being one of them. I would never admit it, of course, but I did spend hours and hours dancing in my room. Music laid the pathway to fantasy, and growing up so isolated in Wyndemere, I depended perhaps more than most on the power of my imagination.

The music was interrupted, mercifully for Paul, who at times looked like he was in real pain. Grace Richards wanted to thank the members of her committee, the various teacher chaperones, and the rest of us for helping to make the prom a big success. I had no idea whether it was, never having been to one, but I didn’t hear anyone challenging her review.

When the music began again, I agreed with Paul to take a break and get another cool drink. The chaperones had kept a very close eye on what everyone was drinking, so no one apparently tried anything, but then again, many were anticipating the after-party at Shane Cisco’s house.

“You’re having fun now with your date, right?” Alison asked me when she and Ryder joined us.

“My mother calls me a dancing fool,” I said. “I could be doing that no matter whom I was with.”

“Well, she was an entertainer. Fern inherited her rhythm,” Ryder said.

“Maybe I did,” I said, thinking about it. She had never told me much about the dances she had gone to when she was my age in England. Surely she had gone to some.

“Well, whatever, you put the devil in Ryder tonight. He’s never danced as much or as well,” Alison said, eyeing him.

“I heard that,” Ryder said, seizing her around the waist.

Alison laughed. He kissed her, and that flush of self-assurance she habitually possessed returned.

“The photographer is putting out the pictures,” she declared. “Come on, Fern.”

She took my hand, and we headed for the display table. I was afraid the photographer would have printed out the wrong one for her and Ryder, but he hadn’t. Theirs looked perfect, and I told her so.

“Yes, we do. You look all right,” she said, nodding at mine.

We took ours, showed them to the boys, and then put them with our things at our table, just as the music stopped again and Grace Richards stepped onto the band platform. The drummer beat out a lead-in, and everyone turned to watch, the chatter dying down.

“Now what?” Paul moaned. “More speeches?”

“It’s time to announce this year’s prom queen and king,” Grace said. She conferred with the lead singer of Flight and then returned to the microphone. “First, the prom queen, the girl who showed the most poise, looked like she was having the best time, and was attractive enough in her gown to represent our school tonight.”

There was another drumroll.

“And the prom queen is . . . Fern Corey.”

I heard my name, but it didn’t seem to register. I thought perhaps I had imagined it. I didn’t move or react. There was applause, and then Alison reached over and literally shook me.

“It’s you,” she said, as surprised as I was.

“What?”

“You have to go up there, Fern. You’re to be crowned prom queen,” Ryder said.

I stood up, but I felt more like I was floating, being scooped along by a heavy wind. I didn’t look at anyone on either side. Comments from the lips of surely jealous other girls followed me to the stage. Could I be eligible? I wondered. I wasn’t a senior, and this was the senior prom. Maybe the band didn’t know that. Someone would shout it out, and I would be terribly embarrassed, I thought, but Grace Richards was smiling and holding the crown, which was some sort of metal designed with gold leaves. As soon as I was close enough to her, she placed it on my head. There was applause, reluctant or otherwise.

“You can say something if you want,” Grace told me.

I looked out at the crowd, all standing at their tables or on the dance floor.

“Thank you. I’m totally shocked,” I said. That brought laughter and a few catcalls from some boys who said I was like the Energizer Bunny.

Grace indicated I should step back, which I did. I turned to smile at the band members, who were smiling at me and offering congratulations.

“And now the choice for this year’s prom king,” Grace declared. “He is someone who also has great poise and enthusiasm and is handsomely dressed. We all agree with the band. Our prom king is Ryder Davenport.”

There was a great cheer. As Ryder stood and walked toward the stage, I looked at Alison. She seemed to dwindle in her seat. The empty smile on her face was frozen. I felt like rushing off the stage and placing my crown on her head. Ryder, however, didn’t look a bit concerned. When Grace placed his crown on his head, he turned quickly to the microphone.

He began by thanking the committee again, and then, after giving me a quick glance, he said, “I wear the crown for myself and my date, Alison Reuben, who always makes me feel like a king.”

The girls swooned, and the boys cheered. Alison’s face lit up again. Traditionally, however, we had to dance together as the king and queen of the prom. We started it off, a slow dance.

“And you were worried how you would look and if you would enjoy yourself,” Ryder said. “Your mother is going to be very proud of you, I’m sure. And Bea will have a minor heart attack.”

I laughed, and then he nodded at Paul, turning me toward him, and went to get Alison so everyone could join and finish the dance. The teacher chaperones all congratulated me. Paul finally looked like he was having a good time now. Every chance he got, he bragged to his teammates that he had the hottest girl at the prom.

“Everything’s winding down,” Alison told me. “Come on. Let’s go to the girls’ room and repair our makeup before we go to the after-party.”

I followed her in. Other girls were there gossiping. Some grew very quiet when we entered, so it wasn’t difficult to imagine they had been talking about either her or me. Probably me, I thought.

“Looks like Wyndemere won the night,” Tara Morton told me, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“I don’t represent Wyndemere,” I said. “But when I get home, I’ll be sure to tell the house how pleased you are.”

Some laughed.

Alison nudged me to walk away. “Ignore her,” she told me. “She was born miserable.”

Other girls gathered around us, paying more attention to me and far friendlier than ever. Alison was quiet about it. I was sure she was upset about my getting the crown and not her, especially since Ryder had been chosen to be prom king, but I didn’t know what to say to her except how surprised I was.

She nodded and stepped back when more of her friends began to congratulate me. I joyfully soaked in their questions about my dress and how I had learned to dance so well. Some kidded me about Paul, warning me to be careful of his curveball.

What a roller coaster I’d been on, I thought, as we left the girls’ room to meet the boys and head for the after-party. I just hoped that getting off would be as graceful as getting on had been.

Paul looked like Ryder had given him a pep talk. He stepped forward quickly to take my hand. “I thought this was going to be harder than pitching nine innings,” he said as we started out, “but you sure made it easier for me. Now I hope I can make the rest of the night easy for you.”

I smiled for him and thought maybe he wasn’t very sophisticated, nowhere nearly as sophisticated as Ryder, but he was a nice enough boy, and for now, his simplicity seemed refreshing. Hopefully, he would distract me enough with his silly joking for the rest of the night to keep me from drooling over the vision of Ryder and me dancing closely for those special moments.

A few weeks ago, I was that impure girl stained by her mother’s sin and destined to carry the word illegitimate to my grave. But for now, I really was the princess of Wyndemere, although I knew it wouldn’t be for long and might make my life even more difficult in days to come, especially when Bea Davenport heard about it.

Ryder mentioned that again.

“Yes,” Alison said, almost joyfully. “I’d avoid her if I were you.”

Maybe she really meant I should avoid Ryder, I thought.