Mrs. Howell led Gilligan down the path to the clearing where they had constructed the stage for Ginger's performance of A Pyramid for Two. They paused just outside the clearing to take in the scene. Mrs. Howell was smiling warmly at the befuddled young man.

Someone had tried to transform the flat from the play into a school gymnasium. A crude basketball hoop and a set of bleachers had been quickly painted over Cleopatra's chambers. There were snacks and the obligatory punch bowl on a table. Benches were placed around the perimeter of the stage, where in real life awkward gangly pre-teens would sit, boys on one side of the gym and girls clear across the room on the other, sneaking glances at each other while pretending to ignore each other. The radio had somehow been pried away from the Skipper and sat on the table playing softly.

Tiki torches surrounded the stage and lanterns hung from nearby tree branches. A large banner hanging across the back of the stage read:

PENNFIELD MIDDLE SCHOOL EIGHTH GRADE DANCE

Mary Ann stood in the center of the stage looking thoroughly uncomfortable. She glanced around aimlessly, smoothed down her dress, and took a deep breath. Mary Ann's dark hair was piled high atop her head, a white gardenia peeking out from the brown curls. She had on her best dress, the red one with the little yellow flowers that she saved for parties and other special occasions. It had three-quarter length sleeves and fell to her knees and was very proper and demure, but it fit her like a second skin and Gilligan shook his head to once again dispel the morning's memory.

Gilligan blinked and turned to the woman beside him. "Mrs. Howell, what's going on?"

"You're going to finish your list tonight." Mrs. Howell smiled and fixed his collar lovingly. "Now, stand up straight. Shoulders back. Be a gentleman." Before Gilligan could open his mouth again, she gave him a shove and he stumbled out of the jungle and into the clearing.

Gilligan stood paralyzed for a moment, suddenly feeling very vulnerable out in the light in the big suit jacket without his hat safely anchored to his head. Mary Ann greeted his arrival by freezing as well, holding her breath and waiting for him to compose himself first. "Hi," he finally managed.

"Hi." Gilligan's borrowed tie hung a little too short on his long torso and Mary Ann smiled. "I like your tie."

Gilligan glanced down as if he had forgotten it was there. He smoothed it down self-consciously. "Thanks." Gilligan suddenly seemed to remember the flowers in his hand, noticing for the first time that they were attached to an elastic band. "I guess this is supposed to be for you." He held the corsage up lamely, still at least fifteen feet from the stage.

"Thank you." Mary Ann beamed, but made no move to approach. Gilligan got the hint and began shuffling forward. He stumbled up onto the stage and Mary Ann stuck out her arm.

In the foliage just outside the clearing, Mrs. Howell was still watching, hands clasped below her chin. Mr. Howell appeared at her side and squinted at the scene before them. "Thurston, look! My little boy's second eighth grade dance!"

Mr. Howell sighed as he watched Gilligan drop the corsage and then nearly step on it. He bit back the sarcastic comment that was fighting to escape and put his arm around his wife's back. "Yes, Lovey, it's a very touching moment." Mrs. Howell took the handkerchief from her husband's jacket pocket and dabbed her eyes with it as Gilligan shoved the flowers onto Mary Ann's wrist and then hid his hands safely in his pockets.

Mary Ann smiled at him. "You look handsome."

"Oh. Thanks. You look ... handsome ... too." Gilligan screwed his face up and rubbed the back of his neck. That didn't sound right.

"Thank you. Although ..." Gilligan panicked momentarily as Mary Ann reached around him. She pulled his hat from his back pocket and returned it to his head, folding the brim up a little in the back just the way he liked it. "That's much better."

As soon as his hat was back on his head, Gilligan let out a great sigh of relief and visibly relaxed. "Thanks."

An awkward silence descended on the stage again. Gilligan and Mary Ann fidgeted and glanced around at everything but each other. Gilligan was studying the set, the benches, and mostly the food, but he finally looked up at the banner.

"Mary Ann, what's going on? How do you know where I went to school?"

While Mary Ann was excited about being able to finish his list, she was also scared to death about how he would react. Gilligan was not normally a secretive person. When he told a story about his childhood and his friends, he told it with gusto, including too many details, so many that people wished he'd leave out. So when he chose not to talk about something, to keep it safely tucked away inside, it was significant.

"Gilligan," she began softly and he looked back at her. She looked terrified. "The Skipper told me about A.M. It's Annemarie Martin, isn't it?"

Gilligan's eyes widened and he looked around frantically. "She's not here, is she?"

Mary Ann laughed. "No, Gilligan! No, she's not here." She bit her lip nervously and continued carefully, afraid that he would bolt at any moment. "Skipper told me that she did something – he didn't know what – and Skinny started torturing her and he thought maybe it had something to do with your eighth grade dance story that you told him?" Mary Ann looked up at him uncertainly. "That's all I know. But I wanted to at least try to help you finish your list."

Mary Ann watched him closely. He looked caught, exposed, and a little bit defensive. He pursed his lips, furrowed his brow, and suddenly turned around. Mary Ann was horrified and started after him, but he only went as far as the table. She watched as he picked up his list and a pencil from beside the radio. He sat down on one of the benches and unfolded the paper, reading it carefully.

Mary Ann cautiously approached and sat down beside him. "Did you like her?" she finally asked in a small voice.

Gilligan's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh, no! No! Not like that." He shook his head vehemently. "No way." He looked around the set; it actually reminded him of his pathetic middle school gymnasium. "She was nice to me, though. I didn't really know many girls besides Florence, but Annemarie was nice to me. She ran the school paper and she used some of my pictures because I was in the Camera Club."

"You were the President," Mary Ann reminded him, nudging him proudly.

"Yeah, I was." He grinned. "I was supposed to take pictures at the dance, but –," he looked both embarrassed and a little amused at the irony, " – but I left my camera at home."

Mary Ann smiled, but then a thought struck her. "Was she mad at you because you didn't take any pictures?" She found it hard to believe that a young girl had such a volcanic reaction to something so simple that it would affect Gilligan so much.

"No. Probably." He shrugged. "But that's not the story."

"You don't have to tell me the story if you don't want to," Mary Ann said. "Just tell me how we can cross it off your list." Gilligan stared down at the paper intently and she inched closer, gently taking his elbow. "Gilligan. Tell me how to fix it and I'll do it."

"Dance with me, Mary Ann." He looked up and blurted it out so quickly that she leaned back in surprise.

She blinked rapidly. "Wha – I – of course."

But Gilligan didn't get up. He looked back down at his list. "Annemarie said she'd dance with me. Skinny and Florence went to the dance together, so I was kinda by myself, but Annemarie said she'd dance with me – just once, that's all I wanted. So when I got there I went over to say hi to her. She was with her friends and I asked her for my dance and she looked at me like I was crazy." Gilligan busied himself by crossing something out on his list. Mary Ann tried to peek at what he was doing, but couldn't see past his bowed head. Gilligan then began writing something else on the list. "Then she started laughing," he continued and Mary Ann had the sudden overwhelming urge to put four thousand marbles, three live frogs, and a whole pile of ants in Annemarie's locker. "Her friends started laughing. Soon the whole gym was laughing. Even the guy playing the records was laughing. After that, I stayed home. Skinny and Florence went to prom without me. I never asked a girl to dance ever again."

Mary Ann's heart broke. She wanted to gather him into her arms, but she kept gripping the bench. Gilligan suddenly raised his head and looked her straight in the eye. "Mary Ann, will you dance with me?" She stopped breathing momentarily. He watched her evenly, gripping the bench and fighting the urge to look and run away. Mary Ann blinked at him and was finally able to nod. "You didn't do your list wrong," he continued. "I did."

Gilligan held up the edited list. He had crossed out the A in 'A.M.' and moved it to the end of the sentence. Dance with M.A. "This is what I want."

Mary Ann nodded again. "Me, too."

Gilligan crossed this final item off the list and turned away to put the paper and pencil down on the bench beside him. By the time he turned back with his hand extended for hers, Mary Ann was gone. She had stood and moved to center stage, where she waited for him. Gilligan followed, stopping about six feet shy of her.

"Gilligan, I can't dance with you if you're all the way over there." She laughed and he glanced down at himself and then around at his immediate surroundings.

He smiled a little. "Yeah. You're right." Gilligan took only two fumbling steps forward and stopped again.

Mary Ann laughed louder. "Come here!" She reached out and grabbed the bottom of his tie and tugged on it, pulling him toward her.

Still just outside the clearing, Mrs. Howell gently leaned into her husband. "Thurston, do you remember how I always wanted to adopt?"

"Of course, Lovey."

"And do you remember how I could never choose?"

"Yes."

"Thurston, look at my babies," the socialite whispered.

They watched as Mary Ann pulled on Gilligan's tie, reeling him in until she reached the knot and slipped her arms around his neck. Gilligan had been expecting a more traditional hold and his arms hovered dumbly in the air until Mary Ann took his elbows and planted his hands on her waist.

Mr. Howell smiled despite himself. "Excellent choices, my dear." He bent and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Come along, Lovey. I may not be able to take it with me when I go, but I can take you with me now. Don't be nosey." He gently took her hand and they returned to camp together.

"Gilligan, what's the matter?" Mary Ann had replaced her arms around his neck and was peering up at his face.

"I don't know how to dance." Gilligan was concentrating so hard on the task at hand that he was starting to break out in a cold sweat and forgetting to breathe.

"That's okay."

"I'm gonna step on your feet."

"I don't care."

"You will when you see how much it hurts."

"Gilligan, it's fine. Just relax. Ow!" Mary Ann grimaced as he stepped on her foot and he started to back up, but she pulled him back and grinned up at him. "Didn't feel a thing. You don't even have to pick up your feet to dance. Listen to the music. Just sway."

Gilligan concentrated and listened to the lyrical music sweeping from the radio. It was much easier to dance when he didn't have to think about what his feet were doing and at the end of five minutes he had only stepped on her foot once as they swayed, slightly out-of-sync with each other. He also realized with a certain amount of terror that this was a much more intimate way of dancing; Instead of formal predetermined dance, all he had to do was stand there and hold her.

"Well, Mr. Gilligan," Mary Ann broke the silence first. "I understand congratulations are in order."

"For what?"

"For finishing your list."

"Oh, yeah." Gilligan frowned and looked away, squinting thoughtfully into the distance.

"'Thank you, Mary Ann,'" she prompted, ducking her head to peer up under his furrowed brow.

"You're welcome," he muttered distractedly and she laughed.

"Gilligan! What's wrong now?"

"I was just thinking how unfair it is. We did everything on my list, but only one thing on yours. You didn't get to witness a miracle or experience true love."

"For the record, I didn't put Experience true love on my list."

"But you want to," he interrupted and she ignored him.

"Gilligan, I loved helping you with your list. And, besides, we already decided that the things on mine are impossible."

"No, they're not. We flew." Gilligan stared down at her, concerned that she apparently still hadn't grasped the significance.

Mary Ann pulled her arms back over his shoulders and slid her hands up his neck until they cradled his cheeks. "And it was magnificent," she told him sincerely. "Thank you."

"What about Hold hands with a boy?" he persisted and she groaned in mock frustration.

"I was just teasing you! But I should've known you'd remember that. You always forget the things we need you to remember and remember the things we'd rather you forgot."

"Mary Ann, you're sounding like me again."

"That's not the worst thing in the world, Gilligan." She replaced her arms around his neck and stepped even closer to him so she could lay her head on his chest. As surprised and uncomfortable as Gilligan was, he had to admit that it made him an even better dancer as they now swayed as one and were no longer out-of-sync. His hands were getting sweaty on her waist and he wiped his palms on his jeans. He hesitated for a moment and then wrapped his arms around her back. Mary Ann closed her eyes and smiled against his jacket and Gilligan thought he heard her sigh.

The music suddenly stopped and the familiar voice of Friendly Henry filled the clearing, interrupting the program for an important news bulletin. Operation Powder Keg was officially scheduled for the following afternoon, he explained. The test missile was set to be fired into a remote region in the South Pacific, he reiterated, an area where they were sure there were no inhabitants.

Gilligan and Mary Ann had frozen and now stood perfectly still in the center of the stage, listening. They held their breath and bit their tongues until Friendly Henry returned them to their regularly scheduled evening program of clichéd ballads and embarrassing love songs.

After a minute, Mary Ann sighed again, sadly this time. "Tomorrow," she whispered.

"Yeah." Gilligan's arms tightened instinctively around her. "Mary Ann, do you believe in ghosts?"

Mary Ann found it hard to believe that he was still thinking about their ghost stories about ninjas and caterpillars and dead cannibal chiefs. "Are you trying to ask me what I think will happen to us ... after?" She didn't look up, but she felt him nod. "Well. I believe in Heaven and I believe that we'll all still be together somehow – with my parents and your grandma."

"And my dog Barnaby?"

Mary Ann smiled. "I hope so."

"Me, too."

"But I also believe that spirits can visit us," she said, almost embarrassed by this admission, and Gilligan glanced around quickly, suddenly paranoid that his grandmother or Mary Ann's father were there somewhere watching them with narrowed eyes or a ghostly shotgun. "I used to smell my mother's perfume," Mary Ann continued. "After she died. Aunt Martha was allergic to it, so I couldn't bring it with me when I moved in with them, but sometimes ... sometimes it would pass me in the hallway. Does that sound crazy?"

Gilligan shook his head. "It sounds nice, Mary Ann," he said and then laughed as a thought struck him. "I could haunt people."

"You would."

"I'd haunt Fatso Flanagan and move his stuff around and open doors and call his name real quiet like this: 'Faaaatsooooooo!'" he howled with a low ghoulish moan and Mary Ann stifled her laughter in his jacket. Only Gilligan could make a discussion about their imminent death entertaining. "I'd haunt Horace Higgenbotham, too," he suddenly decided.

Mary Ann stopped laughing and lifted her head so she could look up at him. "Why?"

Gilligan shrugged. "It'd be fun. You said he could be annoying, right?"

"Okay, in that case I'll haunt Annemarie Martin. Deal?"

Gilligan nodded once, decisively. "Deal." He was quiet for a moment as he looked off into the jungle. Slowly a smile began to spread across his face.

"What, Gilligan?"

By this time he was absolutely beaming. "I can go to Skinny and Florence's wedding! We wouldn't be trapped on the island anymore and I'd get to go. And I'd let him know I was there somehow, just like your mom did." Gilligan looked completely thrilled and Mary Ann bit her lip to keep herself from bursting into tears. "I know, I'll leave his favorite marble in his tux pocket. He gave me his great big sulphide shooter when we were kids. It's clear and has a little statue of a guy inside. It was his favorite and he gave it to me. I have it with me here on the island, but I'd give it back to him so he'd know I was there." Mary Ann lowered her head and took a deep shaky breath. "And you could come with me!" he exclaimed. "And we could dance and it wouldn't even hurt if I stepped on your feet!" he continued and Mary Ann squeezed her eyes shut and let her forehead drop against his chest. "Because ghosts float, right?"

Mary Ann nodded and laid her cheek back down on his chest so he wouldn't see her crying. But she was betrayed when she finally found her voice, barely forcing out, "They fly."