Free New Year's Eve by Caroline B. Cooney Page A

Anne. “You look absolutely splendid, by the way.”
    â€œI’m not so secure about seeing Con with Jade either,” Anne murmured.
    â€œGulp,” Beth Rose said.
    The girls laughed helplessly. What else could you do?
    â€œI’ll tell you this,” Anne said, “it’ll take Gary’s breath away to see you in that lavender dress, Beth Rose. It’s just right for you. Who would have thought that color would be right for a redhead? And you were afraid you’d turn back into a wallflower again, the way the mice who became Cinderella’s coachmen turned back into mice at midnight. You are stunning.”
    â€œEven with my dinosaurs?”
    Anne looked up into the flock of dinosaurs hovering over Beth’s head. “Actually,” she said, “I lied. Deep down, I believe I prefer roses.” They laughed again.
    Kip ached to laugh with them, but Mike was all over her, and short of ripping herself free, she didn’t know how to join Anne and Beth Rose.
    The elevator came. George entered first, dock shoes and shirttail flapping. “He’s going to lose his pants,” Mike remarked.
    â€œHe what?” Kip shrieked.
    â€œHe’s going to lose his pants. He doesn’t have a belt. He left the suspenders home with the cummerbund. He starts dancing, the pants slide down. He’s a hipless wonder, you know.”
    George was busy punching the elevator buttons.
    Beth Rose followed him. Lee and Anne helpfully tapped the dinosaurs in after her. Everybody had Mylar in their face.
    â€œGeorge,” Lee said ominously, “did I actually see you punch every floor? Did you actually set this elevator to stop on each of twenty-two floors?”
    George grinned joyously.
    Mike began swearing.
    Kip hardly even heard it. She was standing next to Lee again. Oh, Lee! Lee!
    For the space of an elevator ride, she could be next to Lee. George didn’t know it, but he had done a very brotherly thing, giving her twenty-two stops instead of one.
    Beth Rose was laughing insanely. “All I ask, George, is that you hang onto your pants while we dance. Deal?”
    George looked at his pants, which were indeed riding dangerously low. “Well, I don’t know,” he said judiciously. “What do I get for keeping my pants up?”
    His sister screamed.
    Anne and Beth doubled over laughing.
    Mike groaned.
    And Lee said, “You better watch it, kid. People that get thrown out a window from a twenty-second floor don’t have a great survival rate.”

Chapter 7
    â€œI T’S SNOWING, THERE’S ICE on the road, and unless my nose deceives me, you smell like the beach, M&M,” said Matt.
    Emily bounced in her seat. “Famous female trick,” she told him. “Keep man disoriented. Then get what you want.” She rested her hands on his face as he drove and let him sniff the palms of her hands.
    â€œHmmm, kinky,” Matt said. “A hand sniffer. Dangerous type guy.”
    â€œAnd? What’s the smell?”
    â€œThe beach. Low tide. Seaweed,” he guessed. They were laughing. Matt said, “I don’t know what the smell is. It certainly isn’t a New Year’s Eve perfume.”
    â€œKeep trying,” Emily said.
    â€œBoardwalks,” he cried. “Salt water taffy, water skiing, French fries with sand on them! I give up, what do you smell of?”
    â€œThink massage,” Emily said.
    â€œHey, all right. One of my favorite thoughts.” Matt tried to massage her shoulder, but she put his hand back on the wheel. “I can drive with one hand,” he protested. Emily put his hand back a second time, but this time she let hers rest on his. “I said think massage, not do it,” she told him, putting his hand back for the third time. “You’re not thinking. You know what the smell is. Get your I.Q. up off the sand and think!”
    After a car accident last year, they were careful about