she ordered.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“And don’t let me hear any stories and don’t be influenced by that silly Sera.”
“Okay, okay.”
It was the first regional school dance in order to bring the school community together. Apart from St. Martha’s and St. Anthony’s, Cook High was included and a Presbyterian coed private school.
“It’s beautiful,” Anna kept on saying, referring to my dress. She was wearing a white smock and blue-spotted pants and her long hair was up in a high ponytail.
“The neckline looks like it’s choking her,” Sera said as I climbed into her father’s car.
I grabbed the compact mirror from her and fixed up my hair.
“I thought you were wearing your Docs,” Lee said, looking at my shoes.
“My mother’s introducing me to individuality,” I said, fixing up her earring.
Lee has always had this sixties fetish. She wore opaque tights and a short orange dress and shoes that would have to have belonged to her mother, who was a model in the sixties.
Sera wore a tight black Lycra dress and enough makeup to supply a complete cast on a soap opera. She never wears anything that’s not short and tight except for her school uniform. She has two wardrobes. The one in her cupboard and the one under her bed. The latter is the one she changes into when she’s out of her parents’ sight.
The town hall was lit up and decorated and the crowd was cosmopolitan. Some classical, others mod. Some trendy, others casual.
I looked around for John Barton, making every deal with God so he would ask me for the first dance. Yet when I saw him standing with Poison Ivy, I wanted to tear my hair out with rage, except I’d spent so long fixing it up. It seemed as if it had been all for nothing.
“Who is this sexy woman?”
I looked up at my cousin Robert, who goes to St. Anthony’s, and he feigned shock.
“Oh my God, it’s Josie.”
“Thanks a lot, Robert.”
He kissed my cheek loudly. “You look gorgeous, woman, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“You reckon.”
He leaned forward and smiled.
“He couldn’t get out of it,” he whispered. “She lives on the same street.”
I knew he was talking about John Barton and I hugged him.
The music started soon after.
“If we don’t get asked to dance, pretend that we’re talking about something interesting,” Anna whispered to me as soon as Lee and Sera were asked.
I nodded and then she nudged me hard in the ribs. Both Jacob Coote and a tall, well-built boy stood in front of us.
“Would you like to dance?” the tall guy asked Anna.
She nodded shyly and grinned at me.
“Take off your glasses,” she hissed.
Jacob Coote was smiling with his usual closed-mouth twitch.
“My friend is besotted by your friend.”
“He’s got good taste.”
“So how about dancing with me, Miss Vice Captain of St. Martyr’s?”
“It’s St. Martha’s, Mr. Captain of Crook High.”
So we danced to “Crocodile Rock” while I looked at everyone but him and when the disc jockey played a slow Elvis song, we fumbled around a bit before we were in the waltz position.
“Funny song to be following a fast one.”
“The disc jockey is the Presbyterian minister. A bit of a romantic perhaps,” I tried to joke.
He nodded and drew me closer.
We didn’t talk for the rest of the song. Nor through the third or fourth.
I wondered why he had danced with me when there were girls more suited to him in the room. I wondered if it was a dare or something equally hideous. Because boys like Jacob Coote, who would easily be the most popular guy in his school, didn’t ask girls like me to dance.
But we danced to the point of exhaustion and it gave me the opportunity to look at him properly for the first time. His eyes weren’t a bluey green or a hazelly green or a mixed color. They were just green.
He didn’t look trendy or casual. He just looked like himself. All things aside, my mother would probably love this guy. He was
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“And don’t let me hear any stories and don’t be influenced by that silly Sera.”
“Okay, okay.”
It was the first regional school dance in order to bring the school community together. Apart from St. Martha’s and St. Anthony’s, Cook High was included and a Presbyterian coed private school.
“It’s beautiful,” Anna kept on saying, referring to my dress. She was wearing a white smock and blue-spotted pants and her long hair was up in a high ponytail.
“The neckline looks like it’s choking her,” Sera said as I climbed into her father’s car.
I grabbed the compact mirror from her and fixed up my hair.
“I thought you were wearing your Docs,” Lee said, looking at my shoes.
“My mother’s introducing me to individuality,” I said, fixing up her earring.
Lee has always had this sixties fetish. She wore opaque tights and a short orange dress and shoes that would have to have belonged to her mother, who was a model in the sixties.
Sera wore a tight black Lycra dress and enough makeup to supply a complete cast on a soap opera. She never wears anything that’s not short and tight except for her school uniform. She has two wardrobes. The one in her cupboard and the one under her bed. The latter is the one she changes into when she’s out of her parents’ sight.
The town hall was lit up and decorated and the crowd was cosmopolitan. Some classical, others mod. Some trendy, others casual.
I looked around for John Barton, making every deal with God so he would ask me for the first dance. Yet when I saw him standing with Poison Ivy, I wanted to tear my hair out with rage, except I’d spent so long fixing it up. It seemed as if it had been all for nothing.
“Who is this sexy woman?”
I looked up at my cousin Robert, who goes to St. Anthony’s, and he feigned shock.
“Oh my God, it’s Josie.”
“Thanks a lot, Robert.”
He kissed my cheek loudly. “You look gorgeous, woman, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“You reckon.”
He leaned forward and smiled.
“He couldn’t get out of it,” he whispered. “She lives on the same street.”
I knew he was talking about John Barton and I hugged him.
The music started soon after.
“If we don’t get asked to dance, pretend that we’re talking about something interesting,” Anna whispered to me as soon as Lee and Sera were asked.
I nodded and then she nudged me hard in the ribs. Both Jacob Coote and a tall, well-built boy stood in front of us.
“Would you like to dance?” the tall guy asked Anna.
She nodded shyly and grinned at me.
“Take off your glasses,” she hissed.
Jacob Coote was smiling with his usual closed-mouth twitch.
“My friend is besotted by your friend.”
“He’s got good taste.”
“So how about dancing with me, Miss Vice Captain of St. Martyr’s?”
“It’s St. Martha’s, Mr. Captain of Crook High.”
So we danced to “Crocodile Rock” while I looked at everyone but him and when the disc jockey played a slow Elvis song, we fumbled around a bit before we were in the waltz position.
“Funny song to be following a fast one.”
“The disc jockey is the Presbyterian minister. A bit of a romantic perhaps,” I tried to joke.
He nodded and drew me closer.
We didn’t talk for the rest of the song. Nor through the third or fourth.
I wondered why he had danced with me when there were girls more suited to him in the room. I wondered if it was a dare or something equally hideous. Because boys like Jacob Coote, who would easily be the most popular guy in his school, didn’t ask girls like me to dance.
But we danced to the point of exhaustion and it gave me the opportunity to look at him properly for the first time. His eyes weren’t a bluey green or a hazelly green or a mixed color. They were just green.
He didn’t look trendy or casual. He just looked like himself. All things aside, my mother would probably love this guy. He was
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