Sandy Stuart joined the army. 

Nobody in the Young Adult Singles Club knew why. She had just left a message on her mother's machine one day saying, "I'm joining the army."

"Diana," Marsha said, "do you know why Sandy Stuart joined the army?"

"I haven't got a clue."

"But you know Sandy better than anybody else in the club. Didn't she visit you a lot?"

"Yeah," Diana said. "But she's the one who begged me to let her come over. She kept saying she couldn't stand being in her apartment alone. I never liked her much."

"You never invited her over yourself?"

"No. She was boring. All she could talk about was the army."

"Then why did you let her visit you at all?"

"I couldn't very well tell --"

"Maybe she joined for the adventure," Matt interrupted. 

Sally came over. "Who joined what for the adventure?"

"Earth to Sally!" Matt said. "Sandy Stuart joined the army, remember?"

"But not for adventure," Marsha said. "I think she was trying to get away from somebody."

"Who?" Matt asked.

"I don't know!" Marsha said. "Give me a break!"

Diana remembered how lonely Sandy had always been. "I think Sandy's looking for companionship," she said.

Matt said, "Maybe she just wanted to run off to California. That's where her army base is, isn't it?"

There was a mystique about California in this eastern town. If your friends or relatives moved to, say, Florida, you said, "They moved to Florida." If they picked Detroit, you said, "They moved to Detroit." But if they chose California, you said, "They ran off to California."

The bottom line was that no one knew for sure why Sandy had joined the army.

Not long after she joined the Young Adult Singles Club, Diana volunteered to host the "paper parties", where the club newsletter was collated. But she found herself collating most of it; not many members came to parties that involved work. So, in January, she put the newsletters together and told Nat, the president, to find somebody else to take them to the post office. He said he would. She left for a real party.

The party was as boring as Sandy had been, until a man came over and said hello. His name was Rudy. He took her to his car and showed her his expensive stereo system.

Rudy said that he was the DJ for the N.Y. State Trophy Competition, a ballroom and disco dance contest. It was going to start the next day. Admission was expensive, but Rudy promised to let her in for free if she would get the records out of the cases for him to play.

Diana got there at 11 a.m. sharp. The dancers, just a few couples at a time, did waltzes, foxtrots, tangos. Judges decided on the winning dancer so quickly that Diana could not understand how they did it.

It was hard to get the music started as soon as the dancers were ready, especially when the emcee skipped a dance on the schedule and asked Rudy for a record that Diana had not found yet.

As evening approached, the costumes became prettier. The women wore tutu-like dresses with fluffy skirts. Their tops were made of translucent, flesh-colored nylon, skin-tight and long-sleeved, with glitter sprayed on them in patterns.

Things got even busier. Diana had to run out for coffee, orange juice, and beer for Rudy and the emcee.

After a while, she became bored with the music. But each new costume was another treat for her. As the evening progressed, the patterns became simpler and covered less and less of their breasts. For a while, she thought that the two-toned pink dresses were the prettiest. Then some dancers came in wearing costumes that made them look as if they were pure gold from the waist up.

Rudy sent her out for still another beer. Not one word of thanks all day! 

Diana said, "You know, your beer runs aren't included in our deal. It wouldn't hurt for you to show a little appreciation."

Rudy looked at her. He said, "This is the real world. If you want something, you have to go out and take it."

Diana was so tired after the competition was over that she was asleep seconds after she lay down. But the phone woke her up only an hour later. She dragged herself out of bed and answered it.

It was Nat. He had forgotten to ask somebody to take the newsletters to the post office. "It won't get done unless you do it," he whined.

Diana packed everything she owned that was not too big into her car and started driving west. It would be nice if she could make it to California, but it did not really matter.