A November Bride by Beth Vogt Page B

could breathe again.
    “Um . . . the Sadie Hawkins Dance?”
    Did Erik’s voice crack? Poor guy.
    “Yeah, you know. They’ve been announcing it over the intercom every morning.”
    “Yeah. That.” Erik jumped as the bell rang for homeroom. “I don’t think so, Sadie. Thanks anyway. Gotta go—we’re gonna be late.”
    She watched him lope off down the hallway, never once looking back.
    He said no.
    No.
    Her cheeks burned and her lungs ached when she tried to draw a breath. Instead of going to homeroom, she marched to the girls’ bathroom, avoiding her reflection in the mirror over the sinks. She locked herself in a stall, leaning back against the cold metal door.
    It didn’t matter. It was a stupid dance. And Erik was a stupid boy.
    Sadie squeezed her eyes shut, knuckling away the lone tear that managed to escape and trail down her face.
    She’d go to the dance by herself. Lots of girls did.
    And nobody knew she’d asked Erik Davis—and that he’d said no. She could only hope he wouldn’t tell his buddies and laugh at her.
    Well, if he did, she’d make sure he flunked science—even if it meant she had to flunk it too.
    As she began setting up to cook, the clatter of pots and pans jarred her back to the present. She could laugh at that memory now, knowing how she and Erik both ended up at the dance by themselves. How they’d hung back by the refreshments, watching their classmates dance. And how they’d talked. About their teachers. And how Erik liked toplay baseball. And Sadie liked to bake. And then they started inventing crazy secret lives for the chaperones. By the end of the evening, the entire middle-school faculty was a front for a secret agency that battled crime.
    And she and Erik weren’t just lab partners anymore . . . they had become friends.

Y ou’re supposed to let me lead.” Erik repositioned Sadie so she stood facing him again. His big toe was probably swelling from the way she’d tromped on it.
    “I’ll let you lead once you know what you’re doing.” Sadie watched her feet, trying to keep up with the rhythm of some song about Joshua and the battle of Jericho. Who knew you could swing dance to a song retelling a Bible story?
    “We’re both beginners . Stop leading and follow me.”
    Other couples moved across the wooden floor in the small room on the upper floor of the Mercury Café in Denver, swinging and swirling around them. They laughed and smiled whether they were getting the dance moves right or not.
    Strings of tiny white lights covered the ceiling. Halfway through the free hour-long lesson, she and Erik still looked as if they were involved in some sort of stand-up arm wrestling contest. Why couldn’t they catch on to the instructors’ directions?
    “Breathe, Sadie. Of course, if you pass out on me, it’d be easier to take charge.”
    “Ha-ha. You’re hysterical.”
    “And you’re still not relaxed.”
    Sadie risked looking at Erik. “I am relaxed.”
    “This”—Erik contorted his face into something between a frown and a grimace—“does not communicate relaxed.”
    “I’m concentrating.” She closed her eyes. Listened to the music for a moment to recapture the beat. Opened her eyes as Erik tried to maneuver her through another swing-dance step.
    “Don’t concentrate so hard. Have fun.”
    Sadie clenched her teeth. “How can I have fun when I don’t know what I’m doing?”
    Erik swung her in yet another awkward circle, pulling her up against him. “Sadie, most of the people here don’t know what they’re doing.”
    She nodded to a young couple who executed a perfect underarm twirl. “They do.”
    “They’re cheaters. Very good, experienced cheaters who could teach the class—but still cheaters.” He swayed back and forth, his hand warm against her back. “You know why I wanted to do this tonight?”
    “To publicly humiliate both of us ?”
    “No.” In one smooth motion he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him,