Danielle Steel - The Gift

Maribeth and David reached the prom more than an hour late, and everyone seemed to be having a good time without them. Although they weren't supposed to drink at the dance, some of the boys in her class already looked drunk, and a few of the girls did too. And she had noticed several couples at the dance in parked cars as they arrived, but she had tried not to notice. It was embarrassing seeing that with David. She hardly knew him, and they weren't really friends, but no one else had asked her to the dance, and she'd wanted to go, just so she could see it, and be there, and see what it was like. She was tired of being left out of everything. She never fit in. She was always different. For years, she had been at the top of her class, and some of the other kids hated her for it, the rest of them just ignored her.

And her parents always embarrassed her whenever they came to school. Her mother was such a mouse, and her father was loud and told everyone what to do, especially her mother. She had never stood up to him. She was cowed by him, and agreed with everything he said, even when he was so obviously wrong. And he was so outspoken about all of his opinions, of which he had several million, mostly about women, their role in life, the importance of men, and the unimportance of education. He always held himself up as an example. He had been an orphan from Buffalo, and had made good in spite of a sixth-grade education. According to him, no one needed more than that, and the fact that her brother had bothered to finish high school had been nothing short of a miracle. He had been a terrible student, and had been suspended constantly for his behavior, but as long as it was Ryan and not the girls, her father thought it was amusing. Ryan would have probably been a Marine by then, and gone to Korea, if he hadn't been 4-F because of flat feet and the knee he had wrecked playing football. She and Ryan had very little to say to each other. It was always hard for her to imagine that they came from the same family, and had been born on the same planet.

He was good-looking and arrogant, and not very bright, and it was hard to imagine they were even related. “What do you care about?” she asked him one day, trying to figure out who he was, and maybe who she was in relation to him, and he looked at her in amazement, wondering why she had even asked him.

“Cars, girls …beer …having a good time …Dad talks about work all the time. It's okay, I guess … as long as I get to work on cars, and don't have to work in a bank or an insurance company or something. I guess I'm pretty lucky' to work for Dad.”

“I guess,” she said softly, nodding, looking at him with her big, questioning green eyes, and trying to respect him. “Do you ever want to be more than that?”

“Like what?” He seemed puzzled by the question.

“Like anything. More than just working for Dad. Like going to Chicago, or New York, or having a better job … or going to college …” Those were her dreams. She wanted so much more, and she had no one to share her dreams with. Even the girls in her class were different than she was. No one could ever figure out why she cared about grades or studies. What difference did it make? Who cared? She did. But as a result, she had no friends, and had to go to the dance with boys like David.

But she still had her dreams. No one could take those from her. Not even her father. Maribeth wanted a career, a more interesting place to live, an exciting job, an education if she could ever afford one, and eventually a husband she loved and respected. She couldn't imagine a life with someone she didn't admire. She couldn't imagine a life like her mother's, married to a man who paid no attention to her at all, never listened to her ideas, and didn't care what she was thinking. She wanted so much more. She had so many dreams, so many ideas that everyone thought were crazy, except her teachers, who knew how exceptional she was, and wanted to help her be free of the bonds that held her. They knew how important it would be for her one day to get an education. But the only time she ever got to let her soul out a little bit was when she wrote papers for one of her classes, and then she would be praised for her ideas …but only then, for one fleeting moment. She never got to talk to anyone about them.

“Do you want some punch?” David asked her.

“Huh? …” Her mind had been a million miles away. “I'm sorry … I was thinking about something else … I'm sorry my father chewed your ear off tonight. We got in a fight about my dress, and I had to change.” She felt more awkward than ever as she said it.

“It's very nice,” he said nervously, obviously lying. It was anything but, and she knew it. The navy dress was so tired and plain, it had taken a lot of courage to wear it. But she was used to being different and ridiculed. Or she should have been. She was always the odd man out, always had been. It was why David O'Connor had felt comfortable asking her to the dance. He knew no one else would. She was good-looking, but she was weird, everyone said so. She was too tall, she had bright red hair, and a great figure, but all she cared about was school, and she never went on dates. No one asked her. He figured she'd say yes to him and he was right. He didn't play sports, and he was short, and he had terrible problems with his complexion. Who else could he have asked, except Maribeth Robertson? She'd been the only choice except for some really ugly girls he wouldn't have wanted to be caught dead with. And actually, he liked Maribeth. He just wasn't so crazy about her father. The old man had really made him sweat it while he waited for her. He'd been wondering if he was going to be stuck there all night, when she finally appeared in the dark blue dress with the white collar. And she looked okay. You could still see her great figure, even under the ugly dress. What difference did it make anyway? He was excited about dancing with her, and feeling her body next to his. Just thinking about it gave him a hard-on.

“Do you want some punch?” he asked her again, and she nodded. She didn't, but she didn't know what else to say to him. She was sorry she had come now. He was such a drip, and no one else was going to ask her to dance, and she looked dumb in the dark blue dress. She should have stayed home and listened to the radio with her mother, just as her father had threatened. “I'll be right back,” David reassured her, and disappeared, as she watched the other couples dancing. Most of the girls looked beautiful to her, and their dresses were brightly colored and had big skirts and little jackets, like the one she'd almost worn but hadn't been allowed to.

It seemed like ages before David appeared again, and when he did, he was smiling. He looked as though he had an exciting secret, and as soon as she tasted the punch, she knew why he looked so happy. It had a funny taste to it, and she figured that someone had spiked it.

“What's in this?” she asked, taking a big sniff and a small sip to confirm her suspicions. She had only tasted alcohol a few times, but she was pretty sure the punch had been doctored.

“Just a little happy juice,” he grinned, looking suddenly shorter and a whole lot worse than he had when he'd asked her. He was a real jerk and the way he leered at her was disgusting.

“I don't want to get drunk,” she said matter-of-factly, sorry that she had come, especially with him. As usual, she felt like a fish out of water.

“Come on, Maribeth, be a sport. You won't get drunk. Just have a few sips. It'll make you feel good.”

She looked at him more closely then, and realized that he'd been drinking while he went to get their drinks. “How many have you had?”

“The juniors have a couple of bottles of rum out behind the gym, and Cunningham has a pint of vodka.”