‘Club?’
Dance had explained she knew about the Secrets Club and their extortion.
Maggie had looked at her as if her mother had just said that Monterey Bay was filled with chocolate milk. ‘Mom, like, no. Bethany’s neat, no, she wouldn’t do anything like that. I mean, sometimes she’s all, I’m the leader, blah, blah, and everything. But that’s okay. We voted her president.’
‘What did she say when she called this morning? You were upset.’
She’d hesitated.
‘Tell me, Mags.’
‘I’d told her you said I didn’t have to sing but she said she’d talked to everybody in the club and they really, really wanted me to. I mean, everybody.’
‘Sing “Let It Go”?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, I mean, they were saying I was sort of the star of the club. They thought I was so good. They don’t have a lot of things they can do, most of the girls. I mean, Leigh does batons. But Bethany and Carrie? You saw them try to do that scene from Kung Fu Panda?’
‘It was pretty bad.’
‘Uh-huh. I’m the only musical one. And they said nobody wants to hear a stupid violin thing. And they were like the club would look really bad if one of us didn’t do something awesome at the show.’
‘So they weren’t going to expose your secret or anything?’
‘They wouldn’t do that.’
‘Can you tell me yours?’
‘I can’t.’
‘Please. I won’t tell a soul.’
There’d been a moment’s pause. Maggie’d looked around. ‘I guess. You won’t tell anybody?’
‘Promise.’
Whispering: ‘I don’t like Justin Bieber. He’s not cute and I don’t like what he does onstage.’
Dance had waited. Then: ‘That’s it? That’s your secret?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then why don’t you want to sing, honey?’
Her eyes had clouded with tears again. ‘Because I’m afraid this terrible thing’s going to happen. It’ll be, you know, the worst. I’ll be up there in front of everybody.’
‘What?’
‘You know you were telling me about our bodies and when you get older things happen?’
My God, she was worried she’d get her period onstage. Dance was about to bring up the subject when Maggie said, ‘Billy Truesdale.’
‘Billy. He’s in your class, right?’
A nod. ‘He’s my age.’
Dance recalled their birthdays were about the same time of year. She took out a tissue and dried her daughter’s eyes.
‘What about him?’
‘Okay,’ Maggie had said, sniffling. ‘He was singing last month, in assembly. He was really good and he was singing the national anthem. But then … but then when he sang a high note, something happened, and his voice got all weird and it like cracked. And he couldn’t sing any more. Everybody laughed at him. He ran out of the auditorium, crying. And afterward I heard somebody say it was because of his age. His voice was changing.’ She choked. ‘I’m like the same age. It’s going to happen to me. I know it. I’ll go out onstage – and you know that note in the song, the high note? I know it’ll happen!’
Dance had clamped her teeth together and inhaled hard through her nose to keep the smile from blossoming on her face. And she’d reflected on one of the basic aspects of parenting: you think you’ve figured out every possible permutation and plan accordingly and you still get slammed from out of the blue.
Dance had wiped Maggie’s tears once again, then hugged her daughter. ‘Mags, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.’
THE BLOOD OF ALL
MONDAY, APRIL 10
CHAPTER 73
Dance awoke early and surveyed the aftermath of the Secrets Club pajama party, which she’d hosted after the show.
The living room was not bad for a gaggle of ten-and eleven-year-old girls. Pizza crusts on most of the tables, popcorn on the floor, glitter from who knew what makeup experiment, some nail polish where it shouldn’t be, clothes scattered everywhere from an impromptu fashion show.
Could’ve been a lot worse.
Arriving at the house last night, Maggie had been pure celeb, red-carpet celeb. Whatever other clubs were part of the social structure of Pacific Hills, the Secrets Sisters ruled.
And, Dance had been pleased to learn (one of the reasons for the pizza and pajama party at her place), the girls were all quite nice. Yes, Bethany would probably someday be an inside-the-Beltway force whom no one would want to argue with from across the aisle. Heaven help Leigh’s husband. And Carrie could write code that impressed even Jon Boling. But the girls were uniformly polite, generous, funny.
Edie Dance had stayed the night too and would cater the breakfast – making her daughter’s signature hybrids: panfles or wafcakes – then get the girls ready for pickup by their parents. Because of the show last night, the school had a delayed opening today.
Now, dressed for work, Dance said, ‘Thanks, Mom.’ She hugged her. ‘Don’t you dare clean up. I’ll do that when I’m home.’
‘Bye, dear.’
As Dance was heading for the door, Bethany appeared, wearing Hello Kitty PJs. There was definitely an insidious aspect to the cartoon feline, Dance had decided long ago.
‘Yes, Bethany?’
‘Mrs Dance, I have something to talk to you about.’ Dead serious.
Dance turned to her and nodded, concentrating. ‘What is it?’
‘We all talked about it last night and we decided that you can be in the Secrets Club.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, we like you. You’re actually pretty cool. But you have to tell us a secret to get in. That’s what, you know –’
‘– makes it the Secrets Club.’
‘Uh-huh.’
Dance played along. ‘An important secret?’
‘Any secret.’
Dance happened to be looking at a picture of her and Jon Boling, taken by the waiter at a wine tasting on a weekend away in Napa not long ago.
No.
A glance into the kitchen. ‘Okay, I’ve got one.’