Free Prom Date by Diane Hoh

mind?"
    Margaret stared at the phone in her hand. Change her mind? About going to the prom with Mitch McGill? She didn't think so. "No. That won't happen."
    "Let me know what color your dress is, okay? See you tomorrow."
    When Margaret had hung up, she knew she should run downstairs, race, fiy, downstairs to give her mother the good news. Adrienne would be ecstatic.
    But her legs weren't ready to move. Because Mitch had given her bad news, too, and how was she going to keep that part of the conversation from her mother? Adrienne would be suspicious. She'd want to know what was keeping Margaret from jumping around the room and screaming with joy.
    And Margaret couldn't say that it was the
    image of Stephanie Markham dangling by one hand from the observation deck at the lighthouse while someone above her kicked at that ever-weakening hand to make her let go and fall to the rocks and the wild surf below her.
I
    headache would just go away, I think I could do anything.
    There's a new problem, though. One I hadn't expected. Margaret She asked too many questions today. Made me nervous. What business is it of hers, anyway? Why doesn't she just butt out? Maybe putting that pin from her store on the deck was a mistake. I thought it was clever. But she's clever, too, and the discovery of that pin put her brain in gear, I saw that.
    Margaret could really mess things up. In more ways than one. I saw her talking to a couple of guys at the picnic today, cute guys. And they looked like they were noticing her for the first time. That's not good. I never expected her to be competition. Not her.
    Shouldn't I do something about Margaret? I really can't afford to take any chances here. She's dangerous. I wouldn't even have to make it look like an accident, because who would connect her to Stephanie's death? She hardly knew Stephanie.
    Ooh, my head hurts so! I can't even remember right now why I didn't help Stephanie. Why I let her fall.
    Oh, yeah. The prom.
    I need to sleep.
    ril do something about Margaret tomorrow.
    102

Chapter 11
    The news that Stephanie Markham had died under "suspicious circumstances" was released to the public early the following morning.
    In spite of that bombshell, classes at Toomey High were held as scheduled, although it was announced during homeroom that there would be no school on the following day, Friday, to allow the victim's classmates to attend her funeral service. No one, not even the rowdiest students who hadn't given Stephanie's fate a second thought, shouted "Hooray!" at the announcement.
    A somber, fearful silence had fallen over the entire school. Stephanie's closest friends trailed through the halls with pale, sometimes tear-streaked faces. Beth, Stephanie's best friend, had chosen to stay home, as had Michael.
    There were, of course, those students who were not quite as shattered.
    At lunch, Margaret had expected to talk about the terrible event of the day before, especially now that the whole town knew Stephanie's death hadn't been accidental.
    Instead, they'd only been seated in the unusually quiet, yellow-walled cafeteria a few minutes when Lacey asked eagerly, "So, who do you think Michael will take to the prom
    Margaret gasped. Her sandwich, halfway to her mouth, came to an abrupt halt in midair. 'What did you say?"
    Lacey didn't flinch. "I saidy who do we think Michael will ask to the prom now? I mean, he's not going to miss his own prom, right? Might even be king this year, if he asks the right girl."
    "I'm sure he'll get it. He'd make a great king." Caroline agreed. She had tried another new hairdo, this one an upsweep, but by mid-morning it was already coming undone, a bird's nest caught in a hurricane. She had tried to repair the damage with bobby pins. Two girls at a table behind them were pointing at Caroline, and whispering and giggling. Unaware, Caroline continued, "Who is going to be queen this year? Not that I care, of course, since I
    probably won't be there. But everyone seemed to think