Chapter 5

Jonas must have talked to Holly after he left Marigold's room. A few minutes later, she knocked tentatively on her daughter's door.

"Marigold, do you still want to shop for your dress today? I can call Mrs. Copcek and reschedule."

Marigold laughed weakly, "No. I think I want to go all the more now."

Holly smiled gently, "That's the spirit."

Marigold stood up and smoothed out her clothes, "I want Elliot to see what he gave up."

Holly's laugh was genuine, "You still thinking about the Nordstrom's dress?"

"As a starting point," said Marigold.

"Jonas might not be crazy about the idea..."

Marigold started to argue. Her mother waved away the objection unstated, "I was going to say that Jonas might not be crazy about the idea, but to let me deal with that. He just needs it presented in the right way."

"You know," said Holly, even before she'd completely pulled out of the driveway, "I don't think you have a bra that will work with that dress."

Marigold thought about the statement. Her mother was always subtly pushing her to buy more flattering clothes. Now that they were of a like mind, she hated to be contradictory. But, she said, "I was thinking we could bring the back down a little further..."

Holly stopped in the middle of her K-turn, "How much further?"

"As far as I can go and not get arrested."

Holly just stared at her daughter as if she'd never seen her before.

"But, if you wanted to help me pick out a few new outfits to spice up my wardrobe, I think we have time."

"Marigold, sweetie," her mother said dryly, "if you've got any more surprises, you'd better tell me before we get on the highway or I'm liable to get into an accident."

Marigold took a deep breath, "Do you remember the picture you gave me, the one I keep on my dresser. It's you, Dad, and me. We were feeding the ducks in Van Saun Park."

Holly nodded and smiled, "I do. That was a great day."

"Do you remember the dress you were wearing?"

"Marigold," said Holly, shocked. "That's awfully risque. I don't think you should go crazy just because things aren't going well with Elliot. Maybe..."

"Mother," said Marigold quietly. "You wore that dress to church."

"I did not," said Holly indignantly.

"Yes," said Marigold. "I remember because you promised we would go feed the ducks in Van Saun Park. Then, at the last minute, you decided we were going to church first. I was sure the ducks were going to be full by the time we got there."

"I did, didn't I?" said Holly. "I remember now. Your father had a gig on Saturday night that was canceled at the last minute. So, for once, he was home and awake on Sunday morning. But, Marigold, that wasn't really a church dress. I wore it deliberately to scandalize the old ladies. They were such a bunch of bluenoses."

"Well," said Marigold. "Shouldn't I get to scandalize the bluenoses at least once?"

Holly laughed, then covered her mouth, glancing guiltily at Marigold.

"What?" asked Marigold indignantly.

Holly shook her head, "Nothing. Never mind."

"Mother," said Marigold, a tone of warning in her voice.

Holly sighed. Taking one hand off the wheel, she pet her daughter's hair, "It's just that I was starting to think that you were one of the bluenoses."

Marigold straightened her hair, "I'm not that bad, am I?"

Holly kept her eyes locked on the road, "Truthfully?"

"Please."

"I was starting to wonder if you had any interest in boys at all," her mother admitted. "I mean, it would be okay if you weren't. But, you just seem so... focused and subdued. I remember what it was like to be a teenaged girl and, sometimes, you just act like you're a million years old and..."

"Mother," Marigold sputtered, a flush rising in her cheeks.

For about a minute, they drove without speaking. Then, Holly asked, "You are. Aren't you?"

"I am what?"

"Interested in boys?"

Marigold laughed, "I don't think you have anything to worry about on that front."

Suddenly, a light seemed to go on over Holly's head, "Is there a specific boy?"

Marigold paled at being caught out so easily, "I..."

Holly laughed, "I see. This sudden interest in your wardrobe isn't about Elliot. Is it? This is about the new boy. Who is it?"

Marigold shook her head, "It doesn't matter. He's not acceptable anyway."

"To who?" Holly asked. "To Jonas?"

Marigold nodded, "Reverend Lofton says..."

Holly cut her off, "You do know that Jonas and Reverend Lofton don't always see eye-to-eye, don't you?"

Marigold turned to face her mother, "How do you mean?"

"Well," said Holly, drawing out the word. "When we first started going to that church, Reverend Simpson was in charge. Jonas really liked him and agreed with him on a philosophical level. But, Reverend Lofton is a lot more old fashioned. He and Jonas clash on theological issues frequently."

Marigold was still mulling that over when they arrived at Mrs. Copcek's house. Approaching her eighties, Mrs. Copcek was still a deft touch with a needle and surprisingly current in her understanding of prom fashions. More importantly, she didn't even blink when Marigold described the dress she wanted and even suggested a few ways to improve on the design. Several times during the discussion, Holly looked like she might make more than a token protest, but Mrs. Copcek waved her objections away, reminding her that, after all, this was for The Prom. Marigold could actually hear the capital letters when she said it.

Because Mrs. Copcek's house was on the very fringes of Mannsborough, Holly drove out on a road unfamiliar to Marigold. At one point, she pointed at an upcoming house, "That's where your father lived when we were dating."

Marigold looked at the house. It was a smallish, two-story structure with a screened-in porch. Other than the fact that it was at least a mile to the nearest neighbor, there seemed nothing remarkable about it.

"Oh, good," beamed Holly. "They left the shack up."

"The shack?" Marigold asked.

"Your father didn't get on too well with his grandparents, I'm afraid. In order to get out of the house, he built a freestanding building to live in. It was wired for electricity and everything."

Marigold followed her mother's line of sight, "Where? Behind the tool shed?"

Holly shook her head, "That's not a tool shed. That's the shack."

Marigold found herself horrified and intrigued at the same time, "He lived in that?"

"Yeah," said Holly, her voice taking on a tone of fond reminiscence. "I loved the shack. Tom could come and go as he pleased. I could come over whenever I wanted. A lot of nights, there were four or five of us in there at night, jamming or hanging out or talking about how we were going to change the world."

Marigold tried to imagine her mother as a teenaged girl, hanging out with her friends at the shack. It sounded more like Thule and his crowd than anything Marigold had experienced directly.

"This was when you were in high school?" Marigold asked.

Holly nodded, "And afterwards. Once I got pregnant, we moved in to my parents house for a while. But, there were still a lot of nights that we came here. This was where the fun happened."

Now, Marigold knew where her horror at seeing the shack had come from. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out the question that had popped into her mind, "Is that where I was..."

Holly flushed a shade of red so deep, it was tinged with purple. Marigold had inherited her fair skin from her mother, but never realized that her heritage allowed for such deep displays of embarrassment.

When Holly found her voice, she squeaked out, "Probably."

That effectively killed all conversation in the car until they pulled back out on the highway. Holly asked quietly, "So, did you want to talk about what happened with Elliot today?"

Marigold considered it. She wanted to confide in someone, but there was too much she couldn't say. And, her mother had already sussed out more than Marigold had meant to reveal today. So, she said, "Not really. I think I've known for a while that Elliot wasn't really right for me. The whole trying to kill me thing just sort of underscored that."

Holly snorted, "I think it's for the best."

Marigold raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

Her mother gave a single head shake, "I never really like Elliot."

Marigold turned in her seat, "You didn't? Mom, why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I did," said Holly. "I mean, I didn't come right out and say, 'I don't like Elliot.' After all, you seemed happy. And, Jonas liked him at first." She took a deep breath, "And I've noticed that there aren't a hell of a lot of nice, Christian boys in Mannsborough who aren't Korean. Not..." she let the word hang for a second, "that I would have any problems with you dating a Korean boy, but they all seem fixated on marrying nice Korean girls."

"Jeez, Mom. You make it sound like I should get back together with Elliot."

"Not at all," said Holly emphatically. "I just thought you would be better off waiting until you went away to college to start looking for a husband."

"Well," said Marigold. "I'm going to Harvard. I'm not going to have time to date. I'll be too busy studying."

Holly chuckled, but there was an uneasy undertone to it, "Marigold, I want you to go to Harvard and do well and graduate. But, I worry."

"About what?"

Holly seemed to be weighing her words carefully, "I worry that, if you see the world as a balance between studying and... dating, you're going to decide at some point that the trade-off isn't worth it and... stop studying."

"In favor of dating?" Marigold couldn't believe her mother thought she was so shallow.

"In favor of sex," Holly said quietly.

Marigold, who had inherited her fair hair and pale skin from her mother, found herself demonstrating the same capacity for blushing. Holly rushed forward, "I realize that it's probably my own fault. Your father dropped out after a year at Harvard at least partly because it was too hard for him to be a father and a student at the same time. Considering what a bad job we did at the start, I'm constantly amazed by how well you turned out. But, I worry."

"About what?"

"Well," said Holly. "I never meant to teach you that sex was bad. That's why I was worried that you were dating Elliot for so long. Even when you started, before high school, I just always thought that... Well, I was surprised to hear that he cheated on you... with another girl." Finally, she gave up trying to explain.

Marigold sighed and lowered her head, "Did everyone know Elliot was gay except for me?"

"Know?" Holly asked. "No. I didn't know until you just told me. But, I suspected. I mean, you two have been 'dating' for almost six years. But, you never go out alone. He never keeps you out past curfew. When I see the two of you together, he seems loathe to touch you. What sort of teenaged boy behaves like that?"

"A good, Christian one, I thought," Marigold suggested. "Isn't that what Jonas was like in high school."

Holly started laughing so hard that tears came to her eyes. Marigold watched her mother like she'd gone insane.

"I'm sorry," said Holly, wiping her eyes. "Your stepfather was a... very different person in high school. He had to get in a lot of trouble before he found the church."

Marigold frowned. Jonas never talked about his past to her. Her curiosity piqued, she desperately wanted to pursue her line of questioning, but Holly was already out of the car and the mall was really not the place for that sort of thing.

Clothes shopping with Holly at the helm turned out to be a revelation to Marigold. Feeling closer to her mother than she had in a long time and having admitted her own desire to be pretty, she was reluctant to veto anything Holly picked out.

Finally, though, she had to plead exhaustion. Her feet ached and, by her estimation, she was going to have to give away half of her current wardrobe to make room in her closet.

"Mom," she said as they piled boxes into the car. "I think you bought me more clothes today than you've bought for yourself in about five years."

"It can be your college wardrobe," Holly said for the fifth or sixth time.

"Will Jonas be mad that you spent so much?"

Holly laughed, "I don't think so. He's always after me to buy you nicer clothes. And, it's not like we can't afford it."

Marigold nodded. She'd only inquired into her parents' finances once, to make sure that they could afford to send her to Harvard. The conversational pause had become almost impossibly awkward before Jonas had said, "I'm sure we'll manage."

As Holly pulled off of the main road to the one they lived on, Marigold saw Thule's car going the other way. He didn't notice them and seemed to be either talking or singing to himself.

When they got home, Jonas was sitting on the porch, "So, how does the dress look."

"We made some design changes," Holly said. "Besides, we want to leave it as a surprise for prom night."

Jonas chuckled indulgently, "Fair enough. Marigold, I can help you with the rest of those boxes in a minute. Come have a seat. I want to talk to you for a minute."

Marigold carried her boxes inside, then came back out and took a seat in the rocking chair opposite the swing Jonas was sitting on. For a minute, he seemed to be studying her in the half-light of sunset.

Finally, somewhat formally, he asked, "Marigold, what do you think of Bartholemew Roemer?"

Marigold stopped rocking. She froze stock still. Not only did she not know the answer to the question. She didn't know which lie she should tell. Finally, she settled on, "He really helped me out today with Elliot. And, we've been talking a lot lately--like you suggested."

Jonas nodded thoughtfully. Marigold wondered if she'd said too much. Finally, Jonas said in measured tones, "I know he wouldn't be your first choice, but what would you say to the idea of his taking you to the prom?"

Marigold felt relieved on so many levels that it took a few seconds for her to be annoyed, "Sir, did you ask Thule to take me to the prom?"

"No, no, no." Jonas assured her. "It would never have occurred to me. This was all his idea. He just came up here to clear it with me before he asked you. He was concerned because he thought I might disapprove."

"And?" Marigold asked, her heart in her throat.

"And," said Jonas. "He seems like a serious young man. His grades are good. He's going to MIT next year. He may not share our beliefs, but he's not closed-minded about them. I like him. I told him that, if you said yes, I would have no objections."

"Well," said Marigold, as if considering the idea for the first time. "I don't know..."

Jonas smiled, "I know, dear. You're hoping to find a nice, Christian boy. Just remember. It's only the prom. You don't have to marry him. But, he's a nice enough young man. I feel like I can trust him with you. And, it just so happens that I am an excellent judge of character."

How Marigold kept a straight face, she would never know, "I'll definitely consider it, sir."

"You do that," said Jonas, rising and striding towards the car. Then, almost to himself, he added, "I like him."

Marigold barely made it up to her room before her body was wracked with paroxysms of laughter. Before she wore herself out, the laughter had taken on a slightly hysterical edge. The whole situation was getting more absurd by the moment.

Marigold woke the next morning with a vague feeling of dread. She'd planned her lie well in advance, dropped hints about it, and considered contingencies for a million questions.

"This is going to be a slow weekend," she said at breakfast. "So, I thought I would finally take Aunt Vera up on her offer to come and visit."

Holly and Jonas exchanged a look. Vera was Marigold's father's sister. She and Marigold's mother had barely gotten along when they were officially sisters-in-law. To Marigold's knowledge, they hadn't spoken more than twice since her father had died.

Marigold tried to read whatever wordless communication was passing between her parents, but couldn't. Finally, Jonas grunted, "You'll find a way to get to church on Sunday?"

Marigold nodded, not knowing if she would actually be able to keep the promise. But, if Thule let her, she would find a way to go to church on Sunday. Somehow, she found lying about this to be much harder than the rest of it.

And that was all there was to it. When Jonas dropped her off at school, she brought her suitcase with her, then waited nervously for Thule's car to pull into the parking lot so she could stow it in his trunk for the day.

At lunch, Thule seemed somewhat subdued. In spite of the fact that he was relatively quiet, Marigold still sensed that he was the nucleus of conversation. In marked difference to what she had seen in Brianne or Randy Vandevoort, he seemed not only uninterested in exploiting that fact, but blissfully unaware of it.

He also seemed to be paying a lot more attention to Marigold. Unlike his usual brash and somewhat domineering nature, he was almost solicitous. Marigold wondered if he, sensing that she had surrendered to him far more completely than either of them could have expected, was now being magnanimous in his victory.

On her way to her next class, Marigold suddenly found her way barred by Brianne. For a change, the head cheerleader was without her phalanx of underlings, accompanied only by her three lieutenants.

"So," Brianne said by way of introduction, "I hear that Elliot tried to pry your ankles apart and you kicked him in the balls."

Marigold smiled as sweetly as she could manage, "Brianne, you get the strangest ideas sometimes. Why would Elliot want to pry my ankles apart?"

Brianne ignored the question and the insinuation, "I hear you didn't waste any time making a total fool of yourself. June saw you putting your suitcases into Bart Roemer's car. You know, maybe if you went back on your knees with your legs spread..."

Marigold raised her hands in alarm as Brianne came barreling towards her as if to attack her. But, she went past Marigold and collided hard with a row of lockers. Turning around with blood trickling out of her nose, she stumbled and fell. Standing over her like an avenging angel, panting heavily, was Dawn.

"You stop telling lies about me, bitch." Dawn shouted. She was panting heavily, sweat or tears rolling down her cheeks.

In spite of her position, Brianne gave a feral grin, "Who's telling lies? Everybody knows you did the whole football team at Randy's last party."

Dawn gave an unintelligible shout of rage and aimed a swift kick at Brianne's head. For a sickening moment, Marigold thought that it would connect, but Brianne got her arms up in time, partially deflecting the blow. She caught Dawn's ankle, bringing her down in a pile. Soon, the two of them were on the floor, biting and scratching. Dawn was protecting her face in between well-timed and well-placed body blows. Brianne was clearly getting the worst of it, but neither girl seemed willing to stop the fight. Marigold was afraid they were going to kill each other.

By that point, they'd gathered quite a crowd, most of whom were shouting for blood.

"Somebody stop them," she yelled over the tumult.

Thule materialized out of the crowd. Marigold realized that he'd been there all along, observing but not interfering. With a seemingly practiced move, he caught Brianne by the hair and pulled her away from Dawn, forcing her to stand.

Dawn lunged for Brianne again. Marigold, realizing she was unlikely to get any more help from the crowd, wrapped her arms around the taller girl's waist, falling to her knees in the hope that she could slow her down enough that Thule could keep them separated.

"Hall monitor," someone called from the back of the crowd. Immediately, people began scattering.

Thule shoved Brianne into Randy Vandevoort's arms, "Get her out of here."

Marigold started to struggle to her feet. Dawn twisted to look down at her, "You can let go now."

Marigold looked up. She realized two things. The first was that Brianne had deliberately torn Dawn's blouse down the front, taking most of the buttons and revealing the green silk bra underneath. The second was that she was looking at said bra through her own splayed fingers. She drew her hands away as if scalded. Dawn smiled down mischieviously.

"Come on," said Thule, taking each girl by a wrist. "Let's get out of here." He kicked open the door to the cafeteria kitchen, led them through a service corridor, out into the teachers' parking lot, and onto a side road. It seemed to Marigold that, any second, someone would yell at them to stop. But, they moved so quickly and surely that no one had time to.

Within about two minutes, they were in the student parking lot. If they'd had to go the regular way, it would have taken ten.

"Okay," said Thule. "Act casually."

Dawn cleared her throat. She was holding the torn halves of her blouse together with one hand. With her other hand, she smoothed her hair back. Thule looked down, "Oh, yeah. All right. Marigold, go back to class. Tell them I'm sick. I'll give Dawn a ride home."

"No," said Marigold without thinking. Thule raised an eyebrow at her disobedience.

"Give me your keys," she said. "I have extra clothes in the car. If he asks, tell Mr. Talbot I took Dawn to the nurse."

Thule's smile was sardonic. Digging into his pants pocket, he brought out his keychain, "I'll see you there, then."

"Good," said Marigold. "Now, hurry. And take good notes. I'll need to copy them later."

Marigold led Dawn to Thule's car and sat her down in the back seat. She considered the other girl with a critical eye.

"We don't have the same coloring... and you're a few inches taller than me, but I'm sure I can find a top in my luggage that will fit you well enough to get you through the day."

"I've also got a smaller chest than you," Dawn pointed out.

Marigold scrutinized Dawn's chest, "Not that much smaller. Let's see what I can do."

Dawn followed her to the trunk, clutching her shirt closed again, "One of your famous sweatshirts would be fine."

Marigold flinched a little. She hadn't realized that her sweatshirts were famous or even than people had noticed them. She opened her suitcase, "It's getting too warm for sweatshirts."

Dawn's eyes widened at the sight of the folded clothes, "You two going away somewhere?"

Marigold nodded as non-commitally as she could.

"Looks like you're expecting a romantic weekend."

Marigold sighed inwardly, "Maybe. It's complicated."

Dawn raised her hands, realized she'd let go of her shirt, and dropped one hand to catch it, "Sorry. I don't mean to intrude."

Marigold held up a cream-colored blouse, "I think this will do. I was going to wear it to church, but I'm sure I can find something else."

Dawn nodded, "It looks good."

Sitting in the back seat, Marigold watched Dawn contort herself out of the shreds of her own blouse, unbutton her jeans, put on the new blouse, and reassemble her clothes. It was, she had to admit, a fascinating athletic display.

Not looking Dawn in the eye, she asked, "Can you keep a secret?"

Dawn did make eye contact, "Have you ever heard me gossip?"

Marigold thought about it, "No. You've always seemed sort of oblivious to that sort of thing."

By the look on Dawn's face, Marigold realized that she'd actually insulted the other girl. Before she could apologize, Dawn said, "It's not obliviousness. I just keep hoping that, if I mind my own business, people will mind theirs. I guess it doesn't always work that way."

"I wouldn't worry," said Marigold. "Nobody believes what Brianne says."

"They don't believe," said Dawn. "But, they behave like they do. To a lot of people, what Brianne says is more important than the truth."

"If you don't mind my asking, what is the truth?"

Dawn eyed Marigold carefully, "You don't gossip either, do you?"

"I don't," said Marigold. "But, in my case, it really is obliviousness. The last couple of weeks have been a crash course in all the things going on around Marigold that she didn't have a clue about."

Dawn sighed, "June invited me to Randy Vandevoort's last big party. I went. I got a lot drunk. I let June talk me into making out with her and Arkady Antolevich. The next thing I know, June's not there, Randy is, and I'm all unbuttoned. I managed to beat feet before anything happened though."

"Wait," said Marigold. "You were making out with June and Arkady?"

Dawn looked at her, "You said you could keep a secret. Right?"

Marigold nodded.

Dawn sighed, "Normally, I wouldn't have anything to do with Arkady. He's kind of skeevy. But, I wanted to be with June and she gets real uncomfortable if we get too one-on-one."

Marigold's mouth dropped open, "You're a lesbian?"

Dawn looked her in the eyes, "I don't like labels."

"But, you're so pretty," Marigold blurted out.

Dawn stared at her in disbelief. Then, she pantomimed a telephone receiver, "Bring bring. Hello." She held out her hand to Marigold, "It's for you. It's the 1950s. They'd like their attitude back."

"I'm sorry," said Marigold. "That came out all wrong. I just meant that you didn't look like a lesbian."

"We look like everybody else, sweetie."

"I'm kind of sheltered," admitted Marigold. "I've never met a lesbian before."

Dawn started laughing.

"What?"

Dawn shook her head, "I'm sorry. Like I said, I don't gossip. But, trust me when I say that bisexuality has become very fashionable in the nineties."

"Like I said," Marigold sighed. "It's clue-in the clueless week for me."

Dawn was chuckling and shaking her head. Finally, she said, "Okay. This one isn't even gossip. Don't you know Laurie McCaffrey?"

"The mezzo-soprano in choir?" asked Marigold. "I used to sing with her at church. Why?"

Dawn looked at her as if she were particularly dense.

"She's... ? No. Really?"

Dawn laughed, "How could you not know. She talks about her girlfriend all the time. They've been together forever. They danced together at the spring fling. It was really hot."

"I just thought they didn't have dates."

"Wow," said Dawn. "You really are naive, aren't you."

Marigold sighed, "I guess I am."

"So," said Dawn. "You've got my not-so-secret secret. Now, what gives with you and Thule? Are you two an item."

"Like I said, it's..."

"I know," interrupted Dawn. "It's complicated. So, how is it complicated?"

Marigold started to explain, avoiding the delicate areas. The more she explained, the less she avoided. Dawn asked a few questions, but was for the most part non-judgemental. And Marigold desperately needed someone to talk to.

After Marigold had poured out her heart, Dawn said, "I know that should be awful, but you make it sound so... romantic."

Marigold sighed, "I think it's both. I can't describe how good it feels to be with him, but he's warned me that he's not done punishing me. I'm afraid of what comes next."

Dawn nodded sagely. Seemingly out of the blue, Marigold said, "Open your blouse for a minute please."

Dawn's eyes widened. Jokingly, she said, "That was a quick turnaround."

Marigold blushed at the implication and held up her first aid kit, "I just meant that I wanted to get something on those scratches on your chest and stomach. I wasn't..."

Dawn smiled and started unbuttoning the blouse, "It's okay. You packed a first-aid kit for a romantic weekend?"

Marigold nodded, "Like I said, I don't know what this weekend will bring. It may be romantic. Or, it may be really awful. Besides, I don't like to be more than a minute or two away from a first aid kit ever. It's the doctor in me."

"Doctor?" Dawn asked.

Marigold smiled as she gingerly dabbed witch hazel on the other girl's chest with a cotton ball, "It's sort of a family thing. My mother's father and Jonas's mother were both doctors. I've wanted to be one ever since I was a little girl."

Dawn nodded and fell silent. Finding the silence and situation impossibly awkward, she asked, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Dawn nodded, "Anything you want."

"Are you dating June Kane?"

Dawn laughed ruefully, "It's... complicated."

"So, how is it complicated?"

Dawn frowned, "Well. I follow her around like a heartsick puppy-dog and she, for the most part, pretends that I don't exist. Then, every time I start to lose interest, she throws me just enough of a bone to keep me around."

"That sounds pretty awful," said Marigold.

"Well," said Dawn. "I think that I really am over her since that party. Besides, I've got a new crush now."

Marigold stopped applying the witch hazel, "Oh?" She managed to say it casually, even though she'd stopped breathing. "Who?"