Page 86 of The Dating Charade

“Ah. Bringing in the big guns,” Bree said, watching them pass. “I already like this plan.”

Music quieted while the teens gave a welcome speech, then came on again for the few willing to brave the pink glow of the dance floor.

And, then, while everyone mingled around tables, Donna Gene and Edie stole the floor.

Seniors bobbed their heads to “The Twist” while Donna Gene grabbed the hand of her date and twisted her way onto the floor. The girls especially cheered, several lifting their arms and clapping while Donna Gene swung her knees back and forth to the rock song. A moment later and she was unbuttoning her coat, dropping it beside her. One girl went to pick it up, but Donna Gene dropped a foot on it, continuing to twist.

And here we go . . .

Cassie felt herself clutching her hands together, hoping Donna could pull off her stunt as confidently as she claimed.

Suddenly, one knee buckled against another and she rocked sideways. Slowly, slowly, slowly, she toppled to her side on the floor. And, most conveniently, onto a very comfortable coat.

Everybody gasped. Caden cut the music.

Cassie threw her hands into the air as she strode forward. “Oh no,” she said loudly and, to her own ears, a bit theatrically. “We’re going to have to call somebody.”

“We can help her up,” someone said, and several teens and men gathered around.

“No, I don’t think you’re supposed to touch her,” Cassie added swiftly, standing in front of the crowd. “I’m pretty sure there’s something about that in first aid . . . leave it to the medical professionals . . .”

“Nonsense,” an elderly man replied, his smile friendly and dentures pearly white as he reached down for Donna’s elbow. “The things classes teach these days. You’d think they wanted us to believe we were as smart as a sack of potatoes. You’re alright, aren’t you, ma’am?”

Donna looked into his eyes and faltered momentarily, a dazed smile spreading across her face. “Oh, yes . . .” Suddenly she was placing her elbow on the ground and resting her head on her hand like she was posing for some beach magazine. The woman practically started batting her eyelashes.

Cassie coughed loudly.

“You can always try with those nice strong arms of yours . . .” Donna was saying.

Cassie coughed again, and Donna snapped back to attention.

Several hands grabbed onto her arms and shoulders, simultaneously working to raise her up. She lifted several inches.

“Oooh. It’s no use.” Donna fell back to her side.

“No problem. Let’s try again,” the man soothed.

They grabbed her again and began to lift. Cassie watched as Donna’s body tightened, her face puckering.

“It feels almost like—you’re pulling against us,” someone commented between grunts.

“Oooh.” Donna pulled her arm back and let herself fall to the ground. “Oh dear. I’m really, really stuck.”

Cassie began pulling the hands off. “I think it’s time we call the professionals.”

“Are you sure?” the man said. “I think if we just—”

“No, it’s no use,” Cassie snapped back quickly. “No use at all. Isn’t that right, Ms. Donna?”

“Absolutely.” Donna Gene turned deeper onto her side, hiding one of her arms beneath her while flailing the other like a shored-up fish.

“Ma’am, if you could just—give us your arm . . .”

Swiftly, Cassie dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?”

“Hi. We have an elderly woman here who has fallen down.”