running. I joined my brother and sister for the last few drills, then as a family we walked back toward home. For the walk home Mamma led the way. Papa tapped me on the shoulder, and we trailed behind the group.
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”
I tried to gather myself for a second, then spoke. “Papa, it’s—it’s the winter dance.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A dance, I see. What is it about this dance?”
I snuck a couple of glances at him when he was speaking. It was the strangest thing. Underneath his giant eyebrows and mustache, he had a glint in his eyes, and he was grinning.
Did he find this amusing? I felt my face flush.
“Papa… I want to ask Carlina to the dance. I don’t know if I should. And I can’t afford it anyway.” I pause for another breath. “Are there some extra chores or work I can do to earn some money?”
“You never asked to do extra work before.”
That wasn’t true. I always tried to be helpful to Mamma around the house. I let it go. “Please, Papa?”
He nodded once. “Of course,” he said. “You should ask young Carlina, and I’ll make sure you have the money.”
“Thank you!” I cried.
“Don’t think you won’t work for it, Matty. You’ll earn that money.”
Dad was as good as his word. He made me work hard to earn that money.
***
I don’t remember anything that happened that Friday morning. I must’ve woken up, eaten breakfast, gotten ready for school. I must have ridden the bus to school… but I don’t remember it. I do know that I forgot to take my lunch that day, but only because of later events. The first three periods of the day—gone.
What I do remember is walking toward the lunch room. My throat was closed and it was hard to swallow. My hands were damp with sweat, and I felt a peculiar twisting in my stomach, like a wash rag being coiled and twisted to wring all the water out.
It was loud that day in the halls. No—the hall was the same as always. It was me that was different. The shouts and laughs and talk of the other students as they changed classes and went to lunch grated on my nerves. I felt as if I were making my way into a dark tunnel, a torch held high in front of me to light the way. Strange how strongly emotional experiences create such a vivid impression. I can still hear the sound of the other students talking. I can remember the quality of the light streaming in through the windows. I remember the smell of frying potatoes drifting out of the cafeteria.
That smell still sometimes makes me break out into a sweat.
When I got to the table, she was already there. She wore a dark blue dress that complemented the color of her eyes. She smiled when she saw me and I felt a sense of relief. It was if she was reassuring me that I had nothing to be afraid of.
I knew if I didn’t do it right off, I might never. So I sat down across from her at the table.
She looked at me, her expression quizzical. I hadn’t put a lunch bag on the table, because, of course, I’d run out and forgotten my lunch.
“Aren’t you going to eat lunch? Are you buying today?”
“I will in a minute. First… I need to ask you a question, Carlina.”
My use of her name when speaking directly to her like that appeared to catch her attention. She sat up a little straighter and asked, “What is it?”
This was it. This was the moment. My stomach cramp suddenly became worse, and my throat dried up robbing me of the ability to speak.
Ask her dammit. Don’t be an idiot. Just ask her.
“Carlina… I…Uh will you… Go to the winter formal with me?”
I had pictured this moment a thousand times. She would flush red and put her hand on her chest and say, “I’d love to, Matt.” She would faint and I would rush around the table and catch her before she fell to the floor. She would burst into joyous tears. Or, in my simplest of daydreams, she would simply say “yes, I’d like that.”
That wasn’t what happened. Instead, I barely got the words “will you” out of my mouth before I saw her face fall. Into… what? Disappointment? Sadness? Embarrassment? Whatever it was, I wasn’t enjoying it. By the time I finished my