Despite the disappointment of the football game earlier, a definite change had come over the attendants of the homecoming dance, especially toward Charlie Brown. Whereas nearly everyone had regarded him coldly when he made his initial appearance, ever since Charlie Brown had given Heather, the homecoming queen, the traditional kiss and led her through the first waltz, no one could stay mad once they saw how smoothly he took to the dance, giving them a show of boyish charm and infectious enthusiasm.
"For once, that zero is a hero," Lucy observed to herself, watching the typically shy and awkward boy go from one energetic dance to the next. She had been among those who had thrown vituperative insults at him, but even her trademark crabbiness was not inoculated against the euphoric energy which spread from Charlie Brown to the other students.
She soon had another reason to feel a burst of warmth toward him. After Charlie Brown had boogied with Heather a few times, he proceeded to invite each of the princesses in turn onto the dance floor, including one with long, blonde hair. Lucy did not know her name, and she would have had little reason to give her a second thought, if it had not been for the fact that Schroeder had been the princess's escort.
Despite always insisting he did not dance whenever Lucy had hinted at him taking her to homecoming, Schroeder had been practically glued to the princess since he first offered her his arm. Those sarcastic expressions which Lucy knew so well had not made a single appearance when he smiled at his pretty date. Several times Lucy had been close to storming over and yanking him away, but she had had no intention of embarrassing herself in front of the student body. With Charlie Brown now dancing the Hustle with the blonde girl, however, Lucy finally had an opportunity to approach her beloved, alone.
Adjusting the red corsage on her blue dress, she strode over to Schroeder. The blond boy currently watched his princess and Charlie Brown with a smile of approval rather than jealousy, which Lucy took as a good sign. If Schroeder did not really like sweet, blonde princesses over crabby, raven-haired football players, then Lucy had no reason to worry.
Stealing close to his side, she grabbed his hand. Schroeder jumped in surprise, but his eyes hardened when he caught sight of her.
"If you wanted to ask your future bride to dance, she would not refuse," she cooed.
"No, thank you." Schroeder jerked his hand free and tucked his arms behind his back, looking stiffer than normal. "I'd rather wait for Samantha to get back."
"Samantha?!" Lucy spat. Of course some blonde ingénue would have a prissy, preppy name like Samantha. "What about all your speeches about Beethoven remaining a bachelor?"
"He still had female friends," Schroeder answered, keeping his eyes on the pretty blonde bobbing on the dance floor.
"I'm your friend," Lucy retorted.
"Not at the moment."
Lucy staggered back, feeling faint, but her shock soon evaporated, replaced with a white-hot rage. She stomped back up to him, planting herself right in front of him — and right between him and any view of Samantha.
"So, some Barbie shows up, and you completely forget me?! Well, I'm not going to let you go without a fight, Schroeder! I believe in our future marriage!"
He did not flinch. He did not even grimace in disgust. He only held her fiery gaze with a gelid calmness.
"While you're up on your moral high horse, pointing fingers, remember that three are pointing back at you."
Lucy drew back a half inch. "Huh?"
"While you're accusing someone of 'infidelity,' you yourself have committed a betrayal today. A big one."
She sputtered. "I've never looked at another boy, and you know it, Schroeder! …And Elvis doesn't count."
"I'm not the one you betrayed," he answered coldly.
"Then who?"
"Charlie Brown."
Lucy stepped back, sputtering. The idea! Her being with Charlie Brown was like dividing by zero!
"Oh, c'mon," she cried. "I don't like wishy-washy Charlie Brown that way."
"No, I don't suppose you even like him as a friend," Schroeder retorted. "That's why you've been letting him take the fall for ruining the football game today."
She drew herself up, taking on an indignant look, but she could not completely stop a strange, unaccountable cringe.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do," he answered. "I was in the middle of the scrimmage when it happened, of course, and I only caught a glimpse of you and Charlie Brown, but I have a pretty good idea of what I saw."
"You saw what everybody else saw," she insisted. "Charlie Brown missed the field goal, and we lost the game by one point."
"Which is the version you want everyone to believe," he said. The chill deepened in his eyes. "How heartless do you have to be to pull the football away from your own teammate?"
"Pull the football?" she repeated blankly.
Lucy bit her lip, scanning her memory. She was sure it had been Charlie Brown who ruined everything, not her. She might have pulled the ball away from that gullible blockhead in private, but it did not mean she would deliberately ruin the big game, right when they needed that field goal. No, no, she would not do that to her team, to her school, to herself.
…Right?
"Why would I do that old prank during a real game?" she demanded, but doubt mingled with her annoyance.
"I have no intention of ever discovering how your mind works," he answered. "I was too far away to see clearly, so I can't prove it, but you do have a precedent for this sort of thing, don't you?"
Lucy picked at her fingers, feeling the blood leave her cheeks.
"You're right about one thing," she said. "You can't prove it."
"And you're willing to let Charlie Brown take the fall for something you did," Schroeder returned. "You made him the pariah of the school while you merrily joined the lynch mob out to get him. You're something else, you know that?"
His stance did not change, and he continued to speak in that quiet, frosty voice. Lucy almost wished he had shouted and tried to shake her. His nearly emotionless mien seemed to say he regarded her as less than a bug, less than an amoeba.
I'm dead to him!
The thought made her heart drop to her toes.
"Schroeder…"
But he turned sharply, walking toward the punch bowl. The surrounding laughter of dancers and the cheerful music from the band seemed to accentuate the contrast of his stiff gait. Lucy hurried after him, grabbing his shoulder.
"Okay, okay," she whispered close to his ear. "For the sake of argument, let's say that I did pull the football away — and that it was a complete accident, a force of habit, really — a silly thing like that doesn't have to spoil our evening, Schroeder. Charlie Brown is the life of the party now. Nobody's thinking about the game anymore. Why don't we just forget it and enjoy the dance together?"
He shrugged her off, adjusting his black tie. "You know, you're always saying you're madly in love with me, Lucy."
"I adore you," she whispered, but for once she could not soften her features into a flirtatious mien. Desperation held a stranglehold on her facial muscles.
"Which do you love more though?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Me, or yanking a football from Charlie Brown all the time?"
She leaned back. "What kind of a question is that?"
He pivoted away. "If you want me to continue tolerating your presence, you'll accept some accountability. Because, right now, I can barely stand to look at you."
She clutched her throat, feeling it constrict beneath her fingers. Schroeder lifted his blond head and marched steadily toward Samantha and Charlie Brown. While Lucy watched, speechless now, he tapped his friend's shoulder to cut in, which Charlie Brown gladly allowed, gliding back toward Heather. Schroeder gave Samantha a formal, yet warm, bow, causing her to smile, and they joined hands to dance.
"The things I do for love," Lucy muttered to herself as she threaded through the crowd toward where Peppermint Patty stood against the yellow wall.
The tomboy stiffly watched Charlie Brown and Heather grooving across the dance floor, and Lucy thought her irritation now had little to do with the football game. Halting beside her, Lucy cleared her throat, but with the band playing, she had to do it a few more times before Peppermint Patty tore her unhappy eyes off the dancing pair.
"What's up, Lucille?" she asked, more grumpily than she probably intended.
Lucy folded her hands, toeing the polished floor. "I have to tell you something. About Charlie Brown."
Peppermint Patty merely grunted, bidding her to continue.
Lucy took a deep breath, trying to calm her suddenly mamboing stomach.
"Has, uh, he ever told you about how he and I sometimes, uh, 'practice' kicking a football together?"
Peppermint Patty snorted, folding her arms in a jerking motion which knocked the yellow corsage on her green shirt askew.
"Maybe you could've made him practice a few more times before the game," she grumbled.
Lucy forced a weak laugh. "Eh, um, well, truth be told, a lot of times — nearly every time — I like to swipe the football away at the last moment. Then when Charlie Brown misses, he gives this funny scream and lands on his back."
"Huh?"
"It's kinda our thing, you know. He falls for it every time. Really, he ought to know better, but he's just so gullible. It's kinda my job to make sure he learns not to be so trusting, but…"
She gulped, tugging at her blue collar.
"Over the years, well, it kinda became a habit, see. Like biting your fingernails and all that. Sometimes, I honestly told myself I'd let him kick it this time. You know, to give the poor kid a break." She mimed holding a football in front of her. "But then right when I would tell my hands to keep the ball in place, they'd just yank it up" — she jerked her hands over her shoulder — "and Charlie Brown would be on his back the next moment."
Peppermint Patty furrowed her brow. "Why are you telling me this now?"
Lucy clasped her hands together. "Well, uh, today's game is such a haze, see, but Schroeder was, uh, kind enough to let me know that, um, my hands might have moved when, you know, Charlie Brown went to kick—"
"What?!" Peppermint Patty blanched.
"Not we can't know for sure," Lucy said quickly, "but if my little habit did kick in — completely without me being aware of it, mind you — then, well, Charlie Brown didn't lose the game." Her shoulders slumped. "…I did."
Peppermint Patty collapsed against the wall, clutching her head. "I might need to sit down…"
"Again, we can't know for sure…" Lucy mumbled.
Peppermint Patty looked like she was about to be sick; her tongue had stuck out, and her eyes seemed dizzy.
"I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, Lucille," she said in a quiet voice. "I should be angry with you… and I probably will be, once my brain takes it all in… but all I can think about is how I treated poor Chuck." She exhaled, closing her eyes. "Football is so important to me. I've always been competitive, but losing today made me forget how much Chuck matters to me… I gotta say sorry…"
She managed to push off the wall without losing her balance, and she stumbled toward Charlie Brown. The current song was just ending when she reached him and Heather. Head hung, she tapped him on the shoulder, and he swiveled on his shiny shoes, still wearing that look of pure euphoria. Lucy could see Peppermint Patty's mouth contort in a dazed but sincere apology, but she did not seem to get a chance to finish because Charlie Brown suddenly grabbed her hands as the music started again, and her face went completely blank. Heather covered her mouth, giggling good-naturedly, and stepped back, allowing her escort to take the next dance with his friend.
Peppermint Patty quickly recovered, and she donned a smirk. She said something, and to Lucy, it seemed her lips formed the words, "You sly dog."
Lucy exhaled and moved quickly along the circular rim of the dance floor, drawing near to where Schroeder and Samantha danced. Lucy clutched her hands, torn between the desire to maintain a good impression and the urge to yank her beloved away from his new flame.
As she neared, Schroeder's eyes flicked toward her, and their gazes locked. (Samantha did not seem to notice.) Lucy formed a weak smile and pointed at Charlie Brown and Peppermint Patty, grooving as though nothing had happened.
Instead of giving Lucy a hint of approval, even a grim nod, Schroeder returned his attention to Samantha. Lucy clenched her fists, close to stomping over and demanding where he found the nerve to stay cold with her after she had just sacrificed her reputation for him.
…And then the penny dropped, and she understood his unspoken message. It was not enough to tell just Peppermint Patty — not when the whole school thought Charlie Brown had lost the game.
Lucy sighed, trudging toward the nearest pair of dancers to make her next confession.
"That boy could rule the world if everyone on this planet loved him as intensely as I do," she lamented.
The reactions varied from stupefied shock to disgust and anger. A few boys and girls seemed ready to punch her, but a shake of her own fists made them retreat. Regardless, the warmth and approval toward Charlie Brown quickly increased, and soon the other kids were flocking toward him while pointedly avoiding Lucy.
Throughout it all, Schroeder continued to hang out with Samantha, which seemed to accentuate Lucy's sudden ostracized status further.
To her dismay, Lucy remembered that not everyone from school was at the dance, either through disinterest, disappointment over the game, or the inability to get a date.
No matter, she thought glumly. Probably everybody's going to be talking about what I did at school on Monday, so they'll all hear about it.
But at least she tried to make it up to everyone. Schroeder could never say she did not try.
When the band took a break, nearly everyone went to get refreshments or formed groups to talk, casting admiring looks at Charlie Brown. The boy in question offered Heather his arm and guided her back to her throne. She looked flushed but happy, fanning herself with her gloved hands. The two exchanged a few words, and Charlie Brown all but floated toward the punch bowl, obviously to get his queen a cup.
Lucy saw her chance and approached him. A few of the nearby kids glared daggers at her, but she ignored them. She grabbed the elated boy by the arm, dragging him to the side without waiting for permission.
"I need to talk to you," she explained.
He only smiled, still looking loopy. He was easy to maneuver, almost as though he literally walked on air. She had to stand him up like a large doll, positioning him so that she could stand with her back toward the glowering faces no doubt watching them.
"Look, Charlie Brown," she began, fiddling with the red corsage on her dress. "I know I give you a hard time, especially with that football — and I should have let use that kicking tee when you wanted to because— because—"
It was hard to get the words out. She had rarely apologized to him before, if ever. He just always sort of forgave her without either of them talking it out, and they would go on being quasi-friends and playmates, sharing sessions at her psychiatrist booth or hanging out when he came over to her house to visit Linus.
Her fingers grew more frantic with the corsage.
"Well, the thing is, I actually wanted you to kick it for once. Honest. But I'm just so used to messing with you, and I didn't even realize I was going to do it, even when it happened, and it's all a blur now, but I probably, maybe, kinda pulled that dumb football away at the last moment," she said in a rush. "And while I don't think there's enough evidence to stand up in court, on the ever so slight, practically microscopic chance that I did ruin the field goal… I just wanted you to know that I'm sor… I'm sorrrrr… I'm sorr...reee…"
Before she realized it, the pin of the corsage came loose, and the red blossom fell from her hands, plunking on the floor. She stooped to retrieve it, but a different hand reached it first. She looked up, surprised to see Charlie Brown still smiling.
"Allow me?" He held up the flower.
Still kneeling, she nodded mutely, and he pinned it back in place, his movements platonic and gentle.
"Does that mean you forgive me?" she asked quietly.
In response, he took her hand and helped her back to her feet.
"Dance with me, pal."
She hesitated. "You sure?"
He nodded. She followed him first to the punch bowl, where he ladeled a cup of the fruity beverage, which he carried back to Heather. Charlie Brown said a few words to the pretty redhead, who nodded as she accepted the drink.
Once the band returned to their places, Charlie Brown then guided Lucy to the dance floor. For once, Lucy did not try to lead, penitently letting him be the star. His good will toward her seemed to soften the hard faces of the other kids, because they stopped glaring and went back to enjoying the party.
Charlie Brown asked her to a second dance, which she accepted, and once the music ended, he gave her a friendly bow, strolling back to Heather.
You're a good man, Charlie Brown, Lucy thought, marveling at how freely he dispensed forgiveness. For all the times she got frustrated with his wishy-washy ways and glum attitude, he always stayed kind and tried to show respect toward others, even when they did not deserve it.
Fortunately, no one was watching her now, so Lucy stole quickly to the side. She scanned the crowd for Schroeder, but that cute head of short blond hair was strangely absent. Frowning, she walked carefully along the perimeter of the crowd, looking for any sign of her intended sweetheart.
She found Linus chatting with the blonde, curly-haired princess who he had escorted that evening. Normally, Lucy might have taken the opportunity to give her little brother a hard time about it — maybe whispered in his ear that no girl would want to be seen with a boy who still had a blanket — but she was not in the mood for either a bit of big-sister ribbing or criticism.
"Hey, have you seen Schroeder, Linus?" she asked, poking her brother's shoulder.
"Not recently," he answered cheerfully, swiveling to look at her.
"Oh, he's Sam's date, right?" the curly-haired princess piped up.
"Her escort," Lucy retorted.
"Sam had to leave early to make her curfew," the princess explained. "I think Schroeder walked her home. Isn't he a gentleman?"
The princess clasped her hands over her heart, sighing dreamily on her friend's behalf. Lucy fell back a few steps, startled.
"He didn't wait for me?" she asked softly.
"He might come back to dance after he drops Samantha off," Linus offered helpfully, innocently. "He seemed to enjoy himself tonight, more so than he usually does at school dances."
"Probably not," Lucy mumbled, turning away.
Her heart felt too crushed to produce even a spark of anger or jealousy. She could genuinely believe Schroeder had enjoyed a dance where a gorgeous blonde princess had given him her undivided attention: a princess who had not yanked the football ball away during the big game and humiliated Schroeder's close friend, a princess who did not bug him with talk of their future marriage, a princess who was not bossy and crabby and spiteful and controlling.
A princess — to put it briefly — who was not Lucy Van Pelt.
What still weighed heavily on Lucy's mind was whether Schroeder would ever speak to her again.
Morning dawned clear and cool, but Lucy barely noticed the clean air or the calm, muted colors of the sky as she made the trek to Schroeder's house. She poked the skin beneath her eyes, certain she had dark shadows from her fretful sleep. Not exactly the beauty rest a girl needed to go see if the guy she liked now hated her forever.
"There's a time for playing pranks on Charlie Brown and a time to be serious, Lucy Van Pelt," she scolded herself. "Is that football trick really worth losing Schroeder over?"
Her stomach felt like a shrinking balloon whenever she thought of it.
Even before she reached Schroeder's house, strains of some Beethoven sonata or bagatelle or whatever-you-called-it met her ears, gracing the quiet neighborhood with its somber melody. She robotically turned onto the front walk and let herself in. The door was nearly always unlocked after Schroeder's mom brought the milk in from the stoop.
She followed the music to the living room at the back of the house. Schroeder did not look up when she entered, nor when she settled herself against the piano, but that was normal.
Good normal, or a bad, new normal? she wondered. She was used to seeing him with his head bent over his painted-on black keys, but occasionally he looked at her or answered a question. After what he said last night about how he could barely stand to look at her, however, would he ever raise his eyes to her again? Would he only give her the silent treatment from now on?
It's hard to get married if he won't even say "I do" at the wedding ceremony, she mourned.
She did not immediately speak, and his fingers did not slow their steady march over the painted keys until he paused between two movements.
"Well, I told everybody that I could," she finally said.
He did not reply, only going onto the next portion of the song.
"And I'm sure everyone is going to stay mad at me for a while," she went on, "even though I'm pretty sure I did it by accident. But I'm sure you would say I'm only getting what I deserve, right, Schroeder?"
Beethoven continued to fill the silence.
"I really wouldn't have ruined the game just to tease Charlie Brown, you know," she insisted. "I do care about him. Sometimes. Like when he was in the hospital. But even a girl like me can develop a few bad habits that show up at inopportune times. It's too bad it had to happen right at a crucial part of the game."
She had rested one leg on the other, and she now drummed her bare knee.
"Charlie Brown was super nice when I apologized. Even asked me to dance, twice. I might get on his case for being wishy-washy, but behind that failure face and his self-pity, he has a heart of gold. I sometimes admire that about him."
She sighed, laying her head back against the piano. The vibrations from the music tickled her scalp as she stared at the light fixture capped to the ceiling.
"I guess I feel better, in a way," she admitted, "but now the whole school is mad at me. So, can you at least promise me one thing, Schroeder?"
He did not answer, but she had not fully expected him to acknowledge her just yet.
She went on. "When everyone starts throwing eggs and rotten tomatoes at my head on Monday, will you promise you won't join in?"
"I would never throw food at you."
He did not miss a note of the music when he spoke. Still with her head on the piano, Lucy twisted her body until she could look up at his bowed, blond head.
"Or rocks?"
"Or rocks."
She laid her cheek on the painted top, watching him. His body swayed with the movement of his arms and hands, but otherwise he sat still.
"At least you're talking to me again," she said quietly. "I think I can stand being unpopular, for a while, but I couldn't do it if you were forever mad at me."
He finally raised his head, continuing to play while his eyes scanned her. At last, the music petered off, and he leaned back.
"Are you genuinely sorry for what you did?" he asked. "Or just sorry that you got caught?"
"I think I'm pretty sorry," she admitted, "even though it was just an accident. If I could go back, I'd make sure Charlie Brown kicked that stupid field goal. Who knows? He might have pulled it off."
"Hmm."
He touched the keys a few more times before he pushed himself back and climbed to his feet. Wordlessly, he maneuvered around her, stepping toward the doorway.
Lucy sat up, frowning.
"Well?" she demanded, getting up as well. "I ruined my reputation when I could have stayed silent, and I even apologized to Charlie Brown. Are you just going to leave me in the lurch? Are you going to keep punishing me?"
He paused beneath the wide arch, looking over his shoulder. He regarded her in silence, not flinching even when she stormed up to him and lifted her chin in defiance. He whirled on his heel, following the hallway to the kitchen.
"I'm getting a glass of milk," he said. "Want one?"
Lucy's eyes bulged. She broke into a soft jog, falling in step beside him.
"I've been visiting your house since we were little kids," she breathed, amazed. "I don't think you ever offered to get me a drink, except at your parties for Beethoven's birthday."
His eyes rolled heavenward.
"Don't read too much into it," he said flatly. "I have no intention of giving you a false impression. Accident or no, you were in the wrong."
"But…?" she pressed, hopeful.
He slowed, knitting his blond brow.
"But I can acknowledge," he said slowly, "that not many kids would have had the guts to do what you did. Even though the mess was completely your fault, and you were only fixing a problem you caused, I can concede that, by Lucy's standards, you were brave. For that, I can be a good host to an uninvited guest. Just this once."
Lucy could not resist batting her eyes. "So, you do have a soft spot for me."
"Don't make me rescind my offer," he retorted, quickening his pace.
Lucy sashayed after him, feeling the lightest she had been in twenty-four hours.
"That boy could rule the world if everyone on this planet loved him as intensely as I do," she sighed dreamily.
THE END