"You heard me, Allen. Why were you chasing me?"

"Gee, I don't know, Robin. I just-well, Liz Wakefield said that you were-and-I-" Allen looked down at his feet, unable to continue.

"'I don't know-Liz Wakefield said-'" Robin mimicked. "Can't you put a sentence together, Allen? I thought you were supposed to be so smart."

"I thought you needed help, Robin," he blurted out.

"Help? Help!" Robin's rage was fast approaching a fever pitch. "Did you see what happened to me in there?"

"Well-uh-"

"I am a total outcast! I'm ruined!" Robin was nearly screaming.

"If I can-"

"If you can what? Help me? You are going to help me? You are going to somehow, magically, help me fit in? That's the biggest joke of the whole night!"

Allen's face turned red. "Hey, look, I'm sorry, Robin."

"Sorry? My whole world is falling down around me, and who offers to help me?" She looked up into the sky. "Allen Walters! Omigod!"

Allen edged away, head down. "I'd better go. I have some things to do at home. I-I'm sorry, Robin."

Robin watched him head off across the parking lot. The misery on Allen's face looked familiar to her. In her anger at the world, she had attacked an innocent bystander. She was no better than Bruce Patman.

"Allen, wait up! Please!"

Allen stopped and waited for Robin to catch up with him.

"Allen, I-look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"It's OK. I shouldn't have butted in."

"What were you doing in there, anyway, Allen?"

"Hey, I go to school here, too, you know?"

Flustered, Robin blurted out, "It's just that-well, sure I know you go here, but I didn't think-I mean, I didn't know you went to dances."

Allen shrugged and looked up at the sky.

Robin was immediately contrite. "I didn't mean it like that, Allen. It's just that I'm used to seeing you in the library or the chem lab. I guess I didn't think you were interested in things like dances." Wow! she thought. Can you stick your foot in any farther?

"I guess I have to get out of the library once in a while," he said with bitterness. "I should have gone to the movies instead. I don't have a lot to say to people at dances."

"You, too?"

"I say a lot of dumb things at places like this," he admitted. "I like the movies-especially old movies. Did you know there's a Humphrey Bogart festival at the Valley Cinema? There's someone who always knew the right thing to say!"

Robin smiled for the first time in an hour. "Lauren Bacall always knew the right thing to say, too. Maybe we should get a scriptwriter."

Allen laughed. It was a nice laugh, Robin realized.

"Well, I guess I'd better get going, Robin."

"Going?"

"Yeah. I've got to get home."

"You're not going back to the dance?"

"Back there? No way. I didn't belong there in the first place."

Remembering Elizabeth's lecture, Robin took a deep breath. "You know, Allen, running away from a problem doesn't solve it."

"Huh?"

Robin paused, finding it hard to believe she was trying to talk Allen Walters into going back to the one place she was determined to avoid. I must be as out of it as everybody thinks I am, she told herself.

"Maybe you should assert yourself, Allen. You have as much right to be there as anybody else."

Allen thought about that. "Maybe you're right. OK, let's go."

"Us?" Robin sputtered. "I meant you. I'm going home."

"I don't think I can go in there alone, Robin."

Running her fingers through her dark hair, Robin tried to imagine what would happen if she went back to the gym. Oh, why not? she finally concluded. The worst had to be over.

"One dance?" she said.

"I can if you can."

They both cringed a little as they reentered the gym. The noise, the lights, the crowd made a sharp, unfriendly contrast to the peace of the parking lot.

Just at that moment, Jessica swirled by. "Robin, PBA pledges are supposed to dance, to mingle-not to hide out in corners with..." The rest of her words were lost, but Robin got the message: PBA pledges do not hide out in corners with wimps like Allen Walters.

And then she was in Allen's arms, and they were dancing. If it could be called that. He seemed to want to turn in only one direction, so they were constantly spinning backward. Robin glanced at him, and his face was red and grim. A little embarrassed for both of them, she looked over her shoulder again, only to see smirking faces watching them as they moved across the floor.

Robin wasn't the only one who noticed. At the end of the song, Allen muttered, "Listen, I have to get out of here. I'm just not much good at this."

"Sure," said Robin. "I understand. I'll see you around sometime." Wondering if Allen thought her dancing was as clumsy as his, she swiftly turned and headed for the door. She was going to do what she should have done all along-go home.

To her surprise Allen caught up with her again. "Say, can't I see you home?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah, sure I do."

Robin smiled, surprised. "OK, Allen."

As they walked out, Robin glanced at Allen Walters again. He was even taller than she had realized. And he had very nice eyes.

Six.

Jessica Wakefield was an innocent person wrongfully accused, she raged.

Elizabeth pursued her around her bedroom, knocking down Jessica's arguments at every turn.

"Elizabeth, I will not be yelled at for that ridiculous charade tonight! I mean, it's a total mystery how or why Bruce Patman took Robin to the Discomarathon at all. Nobody believed for a second that she'd ever get him to take her!"

"Oh, then you admit that you deliberately set up an impossible task so she couldn't make it into Pi Beta, huh?"

"Yes-no-that's not fair! If she were the right material for Pi Beta, she wouldn't have had any trouble. But, who ever thought-? Besides, I don't control Bruce Patman."

No, Elizabeth thought sourly, I took care of that.

Somehow Jessica sensed that she had struck a note that put her in the driver's seat. She immediately pressed forward.

"We all tried to figure out why Bruce did it, but we couldn't. Did you hear anything?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You seem to have taken over as Robin's best friend. Did she tell you how she worked that little miracle?"

"No," said Elizabeth. "Let's just drop it. I'm only glad Robin got through all this alive. At least you can't keep her out now."

Jessica sat before her mirror and began brushing her hair. "I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed."

"You heard me, didn't you? I said you can't keep Robin out now."

Jessica stared at her reflection as she brushed her sun-streaked, shoulder-length hair.

"You know, sister dear, I am not the entire membership of Pi Beta Alpha. It's not up to me alone."

Elizabeth didn't like the sound of that. But she was too exhausted to figure out what Jessica was really saying.

Elizabeth was so relieved that Robin's pledge dares seemed to be over that she didn't even mind when the next day Jessica ducked out, leaving her to pick up their mother's watch at the repair shop in the Valley Mall. It amused her to think how outraged Jessica would be when she discovered that Elizabeth had been allowed to drive her mother's little red Fiat for the errand.

She laughed to herself. Too bad, Jessica. That's what you get for pulling your usual disappearing act.

She parked the car, picked up the gold watch, and was strolling back through the vast, airy indoor mall when she spotted an exclusive little shop she hadn't noticed before.

The discreet sign over the door read Lisette's. The selection of imported, expensive French gifts in the window was breathtaking. Elizabeth found herself walking in to gaze at uniquely designed gold jewelry on display atop bright glass counters. Beautifully crafted gold earrings caught her eye, as did a gossamer-delicate pin, inlaid with precious stones. Lovely silk scarves, tied gracefully around a velvet post, cascaded onto the front counter.

Elizabeth undid one and examined it carefully. It was exactly like the one Lila Fowler had given to Jessica.

"Yes, miss?" said a polite voice. Elizabeth looked up to see a saleslady watching her warily.

"What a lovely scarf," Elizabeth commented.

"Yes," the saleslady said, moving closer. "May I interest you in one?"

"Oh, I was just looking. But-how much is it?"

She smiled. "It's one of our finest imports, and only ninety-five dollars."

Elizabeth felt the scarf slide from her hands. "Ninety-five dollars?" she repeated.

"They're an exclusive item with us, you see."

"Exclusive? You mean exclusive in California?"

"I mean exclusive anywhere."

"Oh, but a friend of mine..." Elizabeth began, her voice trailing off. So it was true. Lila's aunt couldn't have sent it to her. But Lila didn't seem like the type to purchase such generous gifts for her friends.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth mumbled.

"Have you seen a scarf like this somewhere else?"

"Oh, well-I thought I saw one like it."

In her nervousness Elizabeth moved away a little too suddenly, and a tray of gold jewelry went skittering across the glass counter.

"Oh, my goodness! Oh, I'm so sorry..."

She anxiously scooped up rings, earrings, and bracelets, hastily putting them back on the tray. As the saleslady began to rearrange the pieces into an attractive display, Elizabeth suddenly spotted another familiar item. It was a little face on a gold ring. A delicately carved Egyptian pharaoh's face. Exactly like the gold ring Lila Fowler had.

Lila certainly does believe in spending her money, Elizabeth thought.

The saleslady was now out from behind the counter, checking to see if any stray pieces of jewelry had fallen onto the floor.

"Please stay here, young lady, until I have everything," she said in a tone of voice that sounded more like a command than a polite request.