The Final Four by Paul Volponi Page B

assignments. But working the four to eight o’clock dinner shift meant good tip money. He could pocket maybe sixty dollars delivering for the only Chinese/Japanese takeout place in the city.
    Crispin couldn’t afford to pass up on that kind of cash.
    He was hell-bent on saving enough money for Hope’s engagement ring. He’d proposed without one, on the spur of the moment, after making that game-winning basket a month back.
    In the five months they’d been dating, Crispin and Hope hadn’t talked about getting married. But the idea crept into Crispin’s mind a few days before he popped the question, after they’d seen a movie together where the characters got married on a whim in Las Vegas.
    “Could you ever see us doing something crazy like that, running off to Vegas?” Crispin asked her on the walk back to the campus from the theater, with his arm around Hope’s shoulder to protect her from a chill in the night air.
    “You mean, to elope?” she answered, snuggling closer to him. “My parents would kill me. I think my mom’s been planning my wedding since the day I was born. But I’ve got to admit, it was spontaneous. That’s a big part of being romantic—keeping things fresh.”
    When they’d started dating, Hope made a point about wanting things to remain casual.
    “My last boyfriend was really possessive and controlling,” she’d told Crispin the second or third time they’d hung outtogether. “He’d even sneak my cell out of my purse to see who’d been calling me. I just like my freedom now, knowing I’m not boxed into anything.”
    But from the very beginning of their relationship, Crispin felt like they were meant for each other. He loved Hope’s smile and sense of humor. She was the only girl he knew who liked belches and eating beef jerky. And Crispin loved her high-pitched laugh, which made her sound like a little kid. And whenever he heard it, it made him laugh, too.
    Hope didn’t seem to care about getting expensive gifts, though her parents were loaded and she used a weekly allowance to treat herself to lots of designer clothes. Crispin never spent a lot of money on Hope, because he didn’t have much—his working-class parents couldn’t afford to give him a fat allowance. Their dates were mostly to the movies or eating burgers at cheap diners, like Mel’s with the old-fashioned soda fountain at the counter. Even when Crispin brought her flowers, he’d usually picked them from some garden himself.
    So Crispin was shocked when Hope pitched a fit over not getting a diamond engagement ring.
    He’d seen her have blowups before—usually screaming about a professor over a low grade, or the cheerleading coach for not featuring her in a particular dance routine. But this was the first one aimed at him.
    It was on the day after Crispin proposed at the game, once all of the reporters and TV cameras had gotten their feel-good story and disappeared.
    “I talked to my mother this morning, and she’s absolutely right—how can I take this marriage proposal seriously without a ring?” said Hope, as they waited to share a chef’s salad at Mel’s. “How do I know you’re really committed to me? That you won’t change your mind in a week and leave me looking like a fool in front of half the country, on
TMZ
and
Extra
?”
    Hearing that was like a sharp elbow to Crispin’s ribs. Only this wasn’t a basketball game, and he hadn’t thought of Hope as the opposition before.
    Crispin never winced or wiped the sympathetic look off his face.
    “When I asked you to marry me, that was from the heart, not a store,” Crispin said calmly, trying to hide his annoyance.
    He could see that Hope was getting even more upset, shifting around in her chair like she might get up any second and walk out. That scared Crispin. He reached across the table and took her hand, trying to get her to relax. Nearly everyone knew they were engaged. He didn’t want to screw it up in less than a day.
    “If that’s what