Free New Year's Eve by Caroline B. Cooney

Mike’s whole personality changed. He began grinning and swaggering. He became very affectionate with Kip.
    Hug me only to show off for witnesses, will you? she thought. Her quick temper surfaced.
    But she didn’t yell at Mike. She was absorbed in Lee, as if Lee had vacuumed her up.
    Anne is my good, good, good friend, Kip reminded herself. And I originally was going to fix Lee up with her anyway. Lee is good for Anne. Anne is good for Lee. Yes. “Hello, Anne,” she said, smiling as naturally as she could. Her lips felt peeled, like an orange. “Hi there, Lee. How have you been?”
    â€œWe’re fine, thanks,” Lee said, nodding politely.
    And me here with stupid Mike pawing me and George slouching around in his moccasins, Kip thought, dying a thousand deaths. Not to mention Beth Rose guiding her herd of dinosaurs through the lobby.
    Lee’s eyes lit up.
    For me, Kip thought. For me! Just like they used to!
    Her heart soared. Maybe Lee wasn’t lost forever. Maybe Lee still—maybe New Year’s Eve would—maybe—
    â€œSay, it’s George! Hey, I haven’t seen you in months, kid! How are ya? Tall, huh. Yup, that’s how you are. Tall .” Lee grinned, shaking hands with George.
    â€œHi, Lee!” George said happily. “How’s college? Say, we really miss you. Is that a mustache?”
    Kip flushed. Nobody saw. Not even Mike. Mike would never look at her when Lee was there; he was busy checking out the competition, not his date.
    â€œNo,” Mike said in disgust, “it’s not a mustache, George, it’s yarn Lee glued on.”
    Lee never glanced at Mike, but just kept grinning. “Sure is a mustache. It’s my pride and joy.” He tilted his chin, showing off the mustache at all angles. “So, George, you’re here with Beth? You look great, Beth.”
    â€œAaah, that’s just a lucky guess,” Mike said. “You can’t even see Beth. You can’t even tell what color her dress is, hidden behind her dinosaurs.”
    Lee raised his eyebrows. “You think of those dinosaurs, George?”
    â€œWho else?” Mike muttered. His voice was hard and unpleasant. George shifted his weight, looking guiltily at the dinosaurs.
    In her smooth calm way, Anne said, “I’m so jealous. I only get roses. Do you think if we bribed you a lot, a lot, a lot, George, that maybe I could have one dinosaur? Just one? In my fourth grade, you see, I did a class report on tyrannosaurus rex. It was my only brush with violence.”
    Beth Rose lowered her dinosaurs. “Well, Anne,” she said. “If you’re very careful with him, I guess you could have this one.”
    â€œThank you,” Anne said seriously. “That’s very gracious of you.” She tied her tyrannosaurus to her sash. It rose lightly toward the ceiling. Anne’s head tilted back as she watched her balloon rise, and the golden fall of hair lay on Lee’s ruffled shirt behind her.
    Carrying a dinosaur did not diminish Anne’s sophistication at all.
    And carrying nine was now infinitely better. Beth did not like to be the only one doing anything. This was supposedly immature, but Beth was tired of fighting off immaturity. It was there, it was part of her, she might as well face it.
    Beth Rose hoped she would find eight more girls whose memories of prehistoric animals made them want a tyrannosaurus rex, too. Then she would be setting a trend instead of being a fool.
    â€œYou look lovely, Bethie,” Anne said. “I love your haircut. So petite and pixie-like.”
    A compliment from Anne could last a person for weeks. “Thank you,” Beth Rose said. She felt safer in her new haircut now that Anne said publicly she liked it. It must be nice to be Anne and be able to stabilize other people’s lives just by borrowing dinosaurs or mentioning haircuts.
    â€œI’m afraid of running into Gary,” Beth told