The day had finally ended and having decided to drive herself to the mall, Stacy ventured onto the school bus. She had begun to read A Raisin in the Sun and found that she enjoyed it enough to want to finish it. She sat by herself, an unprecedented move, and pulled the book out of her backpack, much to the scorn of several freshmen that sat nearby.

"Oh, my god!" one said in a pale imitation of Sandi's standard voice. "Isn't that…Stacy Rowe? I thought she was in the Fashion Club! So, like, Stacy, are the Fashion Club members taking brains now?" There was mean laughter from a few people and Stacy set her book down, annoyed. "How old are you, 14? Shouldn't you have moved up from the kindergarten insult level by now?"

"Ooooh," said a few different voices, and the girl took the bait. "Oh, what, you're supposed to have a spine now? You ought to change your name to 'Doormat', since you let everyone walk on you anyway. But gee, I guess you didn't get the chance, seeing how they kicked you out before you could."

"Yes, and as I recall –" Stacy looked the girl full in the face at this point, "- you never could make it in, Chelsea. Something about 'dressing like a hooker', right? Correct me if I'm wrong."

Face flaming, the girl backed off after tossing out a generic barb. Stacy picked up her book again and tried to keep reading. She decided that she liked Ruth the best.

After a quick haggle with her mother, Stacy was able to finagle the car keys away from her mother after promising to stop by the grocery store after she went to the mall. It was never this easy before, she thought. For the first time that she could remember, she didn't want to listen to the radio. She was thinking about Walter's ill-planned scheme to get a liquor license. "It's almost like something Sandi would do."

She wandered into Cashman's, idly twisting a deep honey-colored lock around her finger. It was early enough in the evening for her to catch the end of an early-bird sale, although she wasn't certain as to why she knew that. No one in the Fashion Club would have been caught dead attending one of those sales; those were for people who couldn't afford first-rate prices.

All the same, she was well aware that she was shopping a sale, and it didn't bother her too much once she stopped thinking about it. Strolling towards the junior's section, a glint of rich, shimmering gold caught her eye.

It was a full-length gown. Even at this distance, she knew that it would match her hair perfectly and set off her eyes just right.

It was beautiful. She had a pair of shoes that she had never worn because she didn't have anything to wear them with, thanks to Sandi. They would easily complement this gown.

It was in her size. And there seemed to be only one more of this particular design.

It was on sale.

Stacy hesitated. She had never bought anything at less than full price before…

…but the gown hugged her just so when she slithered into it and it wasn't terribly low-cut and it didn't make her feel trashy and cheap and besides, it really really looked good on her, especially when her hair was down.

She left Cashman's shortly thereafter, feeling as if she had really accomplished something worthwhile. While it was true that she had done little beside buy a piece of clothing on her own, she was happy about it, and for the moment, it was enough.

Grocery shopping wasn't terribly difficult either, she was finding. Nearly done with the list, she pushed the basket into the coffee aisle and nearly hit Charles Ruttheimer in the behind.

"Hey babe," he said, a nasty leer popping out. "I know you want to give it to me, but not in public, okay?"

"Sorry," she said absentmindedly, causing him to double take. "Aww, why so down, toots? No date for the big dance? It is only two days away. But of course you knew that."

"Yeah," she said in the same vacuous voice. But she began to pay attention once the red headed boy slid up next to her. "So Stace, I hear they kicked you out of Fashion Club and that you're starting to do your homework. What's up with that? You turning your back on the popular folks?"

She hadn't thought about it in that light. Was she, indeed walking away from everything that she had grown up on since she had turned eleven?

"Stacy." His voice gained her focus instantly. Having lost the ever-present rumble of lechery, it actually sounded masculine. "Did you heard what I said?"

"Not really. Say it again, please?" She looked closely at him for the first time in…for the first time, and was startled to find herself looking into a pair of tawny eyes. Nice color, she thought.

"I asked you if you would go to the Homecoming Dance with me."

"Uh, sure." The words were out before she had thought about her popularity, the opinions of her friends, or any other potential dates. In short, she had made a snap decision, which she had not done since leaving grade school. She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

Charles looked equally flustered, as if he hadn't even envisioned a positive answer. "Okay, cool," he managed to stammer out before grabbing a bear-shaped jar of honey and leaving her alone to stare at 45 different variations on the coffee bean.

The phone rang at the Morgendorfer house approximately once every fifteen minutes, and over 80% of those calls were for the youngest member. This latest call was no exception, and after directing the call to her room, Quinn flopped down on her canopy bed and examined the shoddy state of her toenail polish while merrily chirping, "Hello."

"Hi Quinn, it's Tiffany."

"Oh, hi. What's up, emergency meeting?"

"I don't think that we'll have any more until we get another secretary."

"Really." Quinn let go of her foot momentarily and stretched. "And why is that?"

"We're supposed to be looking for another candidate at the dance on Friday."

Quinn frowned. "Isn't Stacy coming back?"

"I haven't talked to her all day today. Sandi says she hasn't called. Has she called you?"

"No. Oh yeah, weren't you going to tell me why Sandi was so mad on Saturday?"

Tiffany sighed, a noise that Quinn knew was being accompanied by a cocking of the head. It was just a bad habit that Tiffany had adopted in an attempt to look serious. "You can't tell Sandi that I told."

"Tiffany, come on. You know me better than that."

"Okay." The other girl took a deep breath and began. "Sandi says she was mad because her date came late, and he didn't pay much attention to her. It was like 'she wasn't good enough for him'. At least, that's why she said she was mad. But," here Tiffany's voice dropped, as if she was in a position to be overheard, "she told me later than her hair was completely fried, because her hairdresser was out sick and she had to see a new one, and her streaks came out all wrong. And after spending almost 80 bucks on all new makeup, Stacy went with a really simple look, and looked so much better than she did. And then everyone was saying how pretty Stacy was and – well, you know the rest."

All this time, Quinn had had a smile on her face, which steadily grew more evil. "Ahh. She was jealous."

"Yeah. And then Sandi's date didn't call her back, so by today –"

"She was pissed," Quinn finished.

"Yeah."

Quinn was silent for a moment, thinking about something else that had eluded her grasp. "But y'know, this doesn't explain why Stacy isn't mad. Joey said that she's acting weird. She was paying attention in class and everything."

"Is she turning into a brain?" the Asian girl drawled. The two girls considered it for a few seconds.

"It's gotta be a phase," Quinn finally decided.

"It's definitely a phase," Tiffany agreed. They then left Stacy behind to talk about hem lengths. After all, secretary or no secretary, the dance was still in two more days.

The next morning, Stacy woke up and finished getting ready so early that she opted to walk to school. She was halfway into A Raisin in the Sun, and full of questions that she wanted to ask her teacher. After class, of course. She hadn't quite worked up enough nerve to ask questions aloud.

An engine purring alongside of her popped those pleasant reveries into bubbles of indistinct thought. The driver rolled down the passenger window and hissed, "Stacy! Get in, quick!"

She looked. It was the blond-haired member of Quinn's trio. A mildly worried frown began to play around her lips. "Why?"

The boy looked anxious, as he was afraid to be there. "Just get in, will ya?"

Her expression grew even more pensive, but curiosity got the better of discretion and she opened the door, sliding across the seat. The boy didn't look at her as he pulled away from the curb. "I wasn't sure if that was you. I don't normally go to school this early, but they called an emergency meeting for the team." He finally gave her a glance as they stopped as a light. "What the heck were you walking for?"

"I just felt like it." He gave her a puzzled look, and she regarded him with an equally confused expression. "What's the big deal?"

"Thought maybe your car had busted or something. Hey, is it okay if I drop you off before I park? Like, near the cafeteria or something?" He didn't allow her to ask why before continuing. "I'm not really supposed to be talking to you, y'know."

"Why are you giving me a ride, then?"

"Well, I dunno, y'know? Like, you're just…" He thought for a minute before giving up. "You know, you're all…well, you know."

"Unpopular?" she ventured.

"No!" he said quickly, but his shoulders slumped after a moment and she knew the truth. "Well, kinda."

The day passed even more quickly than yesterday, despite her slippery slide down the popularity scale. Her teacher seemed quite surprised by her sudden interest in schoolwork, and answered her questions with a good will, despite the glaring stupidity of some of them. "You mean there was a time when women weren't doctors? What did they do all day, then?"

"They stayed at home," Mrs. Powell answered.

"Wow! It's just like today!" Stacy exclaimed, not noticing her teacher barely restraining a chuckle.

Lunch was a quiet affair. She ate her homemade BLT outside and listened to the wind blow the leaves about, and thought about how lovely that dress was, and how she probably wouldn't have found it if she had been with the Club, because the President and the Veep would have been fighting over eyeshadow and they would have likely not gone to the mall at all because the Treasurer felt fat. But she had gotten there before 5 p.m. and managed to snag it up. Whoever came up with the idea of "sales" was a pretty smart person. The sun felt warm on her closed eyelids.

All too soon the bell interrupted her placid thoughts and she began to prepare for the last four classes of the day. A note that lay on her backpack caught her eye, but she slipped it into her pocket and didn't think about it again until the end of the day, when its folded corner poked her hip. Surprised, as she had completely forgotten that anything was in her pocket, she pulled it out to read:

Hang in there. The big night is tomorrow.

It wasn't signed, but she knew that handwriting, and a tiny grin quirked at the side of her mouth. She tore it into fragments, lest prying eyes and inquiring minds proved too much of a temptation for certain others.

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long. Work beckoned and that's pretty hard to ignore. Moving right along…the denouement shall be upon us all shortly.