“Like what?” He seemed puzzled by the question.

“Like anything. More than just working for Dad. Like going to Chicago, or New York, or having a better job … or going to college …” Those were her dreams. She wanted so much more, and she had no one to share her dreams with. Even the girls in her class were different than she was. No one could ever figure out why she cared about grades or studies. What difference did it make? Who cared? She did. But as a result, she had no friends, and had to go to the dance with boys like David.

But she still had her dreams. No one could take those from her. Not even her father. Maribeth wanted a career, a more interesting place to live, an exciting job, an education if she could ever afford one, and eventually a husband she loved and respected. She couldn't imagine a life with someone she didn't admire. She couldn't imagine a life like her mother's, married to a man who paid no attention to her at all, never listened to her ideas, and didn't care what she was thinking. She wanted so much more. She had so many dreams, so many ideas that everyone thought were crazy, except her teachers, who knew how exceptional she was, and wanted to help her be free of the bonds that held her. They knew how important it would be for her one day to get an education. But the only time she ever got to let her soul out a little bit was when she wrote papers for one of her classes, and then she would be praised for her ideas …but only then, for one fleeting moment. She never got to talk to anyone about them.

“Do you want some punch?” David asked her.

“Huh? …” Her mind had been a million miles away. “I'm sorry … I was thinking about something else … I'm sorry my father chewed your ear off tonight. We got in a fight about my dress, and I had to change.” She felt more awkward than ever as she said it.

“It's very nice,” he said nervously, obviously lying. It was anything but, and she knew it. The navy dress was so tired and plain, it had taken a lot of courage to wear it. But she was used to being different and ridiculed. Or she should have been. She was always the odd man out, always had been. It was why David O'Connor had felt comfortable asking her to the dance. He knew no one else would. She was good-looking, but she was weird, everyone said so. She was too tall, she had bright red hair, and a great figure, but all she cared about was school, and she never went on dates. No one asked her. He figured she'd say yes to him and he was right. He didn't play sports, and he was short, and he had terrible problems with his complexion. Who else could he have asked, except Maribeth Robertson? She'd been the only choice except for some really ugly girls he wouldn't have wanted to be caught dead with. And actually, he liked Maribeth. He just wasn't so crazy about her father. The old man had really made him sweat it while he waited for her. He'd been wondering if he was going to be stuck there all night, when she finally appeared in the dark blue dress with the white collar. And she looked okay. You could still see her great figure, even under the ugly dress. What difference did it make anyway? He was excited about dancing with her, and feeling her body next to his. Just thinking about it gave him a hard-on.

“Do you want some punch?” he asked her again, and she nodded. She didn't, but she didn't know what else to say to him. She was sorry she had come now. He was such a drip, and no one else was going to ask her to dance, and she looked dumb in the dark blue dress. She should have stayed home and listened to the radio with her mother, just as her father had threatened. “I'll be right back,” David reassured her, and disappeared, as she watched the other couples dancing. Most of the girls looked beautiful to her, and their dresses were brightly colored and had big skirts and little jackets, like the one she'd almost worn but hadn't been allowed to.

It seemed like ages before David appeared again, and when he did, he was smiling. He looked as though he had an exciting secret, and as soon as she tasted the punch, she knew why he looked so happy. It had a funny taste to it, and she figured that someone had spiked it.

“What's in this?” she asked, taking a big sniff and a small sip to confirm her suspicions. She had only tasted alcohol a few times, but she was pretty sure the punch had been doctored.

“Just a little happy juice,” he grinned, looking suddenly shorter and a whole lot worse than he had when he'd asked her. He was a real jerk and the way he leered at her was disgusting.

“I don't want to get drunk,” she said matter-of-factly, sorry that she had come, especially with him. As usual, she felt like a fish out of water.

“Come on, Maribeth, be a sport. You won't get drunk. Just have a few sips. It'll make you feel good.”

She looked at him more closely then, and realized that he'd been drinking while he went to get their drinks. “How many have you had?”

“The juniors have a couple of bottles of rum out behind the gym, and Cunningham has a pint of vodka.”

“Great. How terrific.”

“Yeah, isn't it?” He smiled happily, glad she didn't object, and totally oblivious to her tone. She was looking down at him in disgust, but he didn't seem to notice.

“I'll be back,” she said coolly, seeming years older than he was. Her height and her demeanor made her seem older than she was most of the time, and next to him she looked like a giant, though she was only five feet eight, but David was a good four or five inches shorter.

“Where are you going?” He looked worried. They hadn't danced yet.

“The ladies' room,” she said coolly.

“I hear they have a pint in there too.”

“I'll bring you some,” she said, and disappeared into the crowd. The band was playing “In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening,” and the kids were dancing cheek to cheek, and all she felt was sad as she made her way out of the gym, past a group of guys obviously trying to hide a bottle. But they couldn't hide the effects of it, and a few feet further on, two of them were throwing up against the wall. But she was used to that from her brother. She walked as far away as she could, and went to sit on a bench on the other side of the gym, just to gather her wits and pass a little time before she went back to David. He was obviously going to get drunk and she was not having fun. She should probably just walk home and forget the whole thing. She doubted if after a few drinks David would even notice her absence.

She sat on the bench for a long time, getting chilled in the night air, and not really caring. It felt good just to be there, away from all of them, David, the kids in her class, and the ones she didn't know, the ones drinking and throwing up. It felt good to be away from her parents too. For a minute she wished that she could sit there forever. She laid her head back against the bench and closed her eyes, and stretched her legs out ahead of her, as she just floated in the cool air, thinking.

“Too much to drink?” a voice asked softly next to her, and she jumped as she heard it. She looked up to see a familiar face. He was a senior, and a football star, and he had no idea who she was. She couldn't imagine what he was doing there, or why he bothered to talk to her. Maybe he thought she was someone else. She sat up and shook her head, expecting him to walk off and leave her.

“No. Just too many people. Too much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, sitting down next to her, uninvited, and it was impossible not to notice how handsome he was, even in the moonlight. “I hate crowds.”

“That's a little hard to believe,” she said, sounding amused, and feeling oddly comfortable with him, even though he was a hero on campus. But it was all so unreal here, sitting outside the gym, on a bench in the dark. “You're always surrounded by people.”

“And you? How do you know who I am?” He sounded intrigued, and looked gorgeous. “Who are you?”

“I'm Cinderella. My Buick just turned into a pumpkin, and my date turned into a drunk, and I came out here looking for my glass slipper. Have you seen it?”

“Possibly. Describe it. How do I know you're really Cinderella?” He was amused by her, and he wondered why he had never noticed her before. She was wearing an ugly dress, but she had a great face, and figure, and a good sense of humor. “Are you a senior?” He looked interested suddenly, although everyone in school knew he'd been going with Debbie Flowers ever since they were sophomores. There was even a rumor that they were going to get married after graduation.

“I'm a sophomore,” she said with a wry smile, surprisingly honest, even when confronted by Prince Charming.

“Maybe that's why I never noticed,” he said honestly. “But you look older.”

“Thanks, I guess.” She smiled at him, thinking that she should either go back to David, or start walking home. She shouldn't be sitting there all alone with a senior. But she felt safe here.

“My name's Paul Browne. What's yours, Cinderella?”

“Maribeth Robertson.” She smiled and stood up.

“Where are you going?” He was tall, with dark hair and a dazzling smile, and he looked disappointed.

“I was just going home.”

“Alone?” She nodded. “Want a lift?”

“I'm fine, thanks.” She couldn't believe she was turning down a ride with Paul Browne, star senior. Who would have believed it? She grinned, thinking about it, what an achievement.

“Come on, I'll walk you back to the gym at least. Are you going to tell your date you're leaving?”

“I should, I guess.” They walked easily back to the main entrance of the gym, like old friends, and as soon as they approached, she saw David, already hopelessly drunk, sharing a bottle unsteadily with half a dozen friends. There were monitors inside, but in spite of them, the kids seemed to be doing what they wanted. I don't think I need to tell him anything,” Maribeth said discreetly, and stopped long before they reached him, looking up at Paul with a smile. He was a lot taller than she was. “Thanks for keeping me company. I'm going to go home now.” The evening had been a total waste for her. She'd had a rotten time, except for talking to Paul Browne.

“I can't let you go home alone. Come on, let me give you a ride, or are you afraid my Chevy will turn into a pumpkin too?”

“I don't think so. Aren't you the handsome prince?” she asked, teasing him, but then feeling embarrassed. He really was the handsome prince, and she knew she shouldn't have said it.

“Am I?” he quipped, looking incredibly handsome and sophisticated as he helped her into his car. It was an impeccably kept 1951 Bel Air with the new chrome trim, and the inside was all red leather.

“I like your pumpkin, Paul,” she teased, and he laughed, and when she gave him her address, he suggested they go out for a hamburger and a milkshake.

“You can't have had much fun. Your date looked like a creep …sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that …but he certainly didn't do much for you tonight. I'll bet you didn't even get a dance. You might as well go out for a little fun on the way home. What do you think? It's early.” It was and she didn't have to be home till midnight.

Okay,” she said cautiously, wanting to be with him, and more impressed with him than she wanted to admit. It was impossible not to be. “Did you come alone tonight?” she asked, wondering what had happened to Debbie.

“Yes, I did. I'm a free agent again.” He suspected from the way Maribeth had asked that she knew about Debbie. Everyone at school did. But they had broken up two days before, because Debbie had found out that he'd gone out with someone else over Christmas vacation, but he didn't explain that.

“I guess that was lucky for me, huh Maribeth?” He smiled disarmingly, and asked her questions about herself, as they drove to Willie's, the diner where all the popular kids hung out at all hours of the day and night. And when they got there, the jukebox was blaring and the place was jammed. It looked like more kids than at the dance, and suddenly she was more conscious than ever of the ugly dress her parents had made her wear, and of who he was. Suddenly she felt every minute of sixteen, and less. And Paul was nearly eighteen. But it was as though he sensed her shyness, as he introduced her to all his friends. Some of them raised their eyebrows questioningly, wanting to know who she was, but no one seemed to object to her joining them. They were surprisingly nice to her, as Paul's guest, and she had a good time, laughing and talking. She shared a cheeseburger with him, and a milkshake, and they danced to half a dozen songs on the jukebox, including a couple of slow dances, when he held her breathtakingly close to him, and felt her breasts pressed against him. And she could instantly feel the effect on him, which embarrassed her, but he wouldn't let her pull away, and he held her close to him as they danced, and then looked down and smiled at her gently.