The Dance by Christopher Pike

didn’t give her the impression I’m stupid. I’m not very good at talking to people on the phone that I’ve never met. I start rambling.”
    “She liked you.”
    “Really? That’s good.” She took a breath. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called? Tonight, Michael, it’s not good. Something’s come up. I have to cancel on you.”
    “That’s OK.” Hey, the sun just blew up. That’s OK. I can carry on as a collection of cooked carbon molecules. No problem.
    But, Jessie, I need to see you. I need you.
    “I’m free tomorrow.” she said. “Would that be all right?”
    He couldn’t call his bosses and expect them to rearrange his schedule again. “No. I can’t. I have to work.”
    “Can’t you get off?”
    “I wish I could.”
    “Oh, no.” She sounded distressed. He began to feel a tiny bit better. “If I had known—Dammit. I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t worry about it. Things come up. I understand.” Since she wasn’t volunteering what this thing was, he thought it prudent not to ask. “I heard the announcement at the varsity tree this afternoon. I was happy to hear your name called.”
    “Oh, you were there? I was looking for you.”
    When he had seen her talking to Bill Skater, he had decided he would save his congratulations for another time. “I want to wish you luck with the next vote. I think you’d make a wonderful queen.”
    “Thanks. How about next Friday?”
    “We have our first league game then. I’ll be playing.”
    “Then how about next Saturday? We could go out after the SAT test. We could compare answers! Come on, Michael, I’ll need someone like you about then to help put my brains back together.”
    He had to work next Saturday evening as well. Yet that was a week away. He might be able to swing something with the boss’s son. “That should be fine, but I’ll have to double-check at the store.”
    “I’m carving you into my appointment book for next Saturday.” she said. “If you don’t show, I’m coming to your store to get you.” She giggled. “How come you’re always so understanding?”
    “Don’t be fooled. I have my days.” The words were no sooner past his lips than he realized she was one of the few people who knew precisely what he meant. He hadn’t intended to bring up the scene in Alice’s studio, not again. He said quickly, “I’ll let you go, Jessie. See you at school.”
    She paused. “Take care of yourself, Michael.”
    Her last remarks had soothed his feelings somewhat. But now he had absolutely nothing to do. He glanced out the window, at the clouds. They were heading west, toward the ocean. He dialed the weather service. They assured him there would be patches of visibility throughout the night in the desert. Good news. He hadn’t seen the comet in weeks. If he could find it tonight, he would be able to construct a yardstick with which to plot its course.
    Preparing to spend the night in the desert, he forgot all about his mom’s asking to speak to him, not until she came into his bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “Cleaning my Barlow lens.” He held the unusually long ocular up to the light, lens paper in his hand, searching for dust particles. “Use this with any eyepiece and you double its power.”
    “Are you going to the desert tonight? Is the date off?”
    When he’d started his comet hunt, she used to wait up for him, worrying. So he’d taken her with him once, and hanging out with him beneath the stars on the wide empty dark sands, she’d come to realize he was safer outside the city than in his own bedroom.
    “We’re going out next Saturday.” He shrugged. “It’s cool.”
    “You’re not upset?”
    “I’m fine. What did you want to talk about?”
    Her eyes never left his, not even to blink. “I’m pregnant.”
    He set down his lens. He heard himself speak. “And?”
    “Daniel doesn’t know. I’m going to tell him this weekend.”
    “And?”
    “I don’t know what he’ll say.” She glanced