was. What else could it be?
After our third dance, Miguel led me to the area set aside for the punch and cookies. “Are you hungry already?” I teased. “What happened to that dinner you told me you ate?”
He grinned. “I just wanted to get away from the speakers.”
I nodded. “We don’t have to yell as loud here.” I looked down at my hands, clutched together.
“Aidyn.” He paced away and then back. Over his shoulder I saw a group of seniors surround the refreshments table. “What do you think of us?”
We were an “us”? Could the world get any better? “I think—you said we’re friends.”
“I think I did, too.” He grinned. “But some of the guys—oh, Wallis and them—they think…they say because we’re always together that we’re…together. You know?”
I nodded.
“So I was wondering.” He looked away, biting his lip. I wanted so badly to give him the words, or the courage, whatever it was he needed to be able to say what I needed to hear. I lay my hand on his arm and he looked down at me. “Why don’t we just…we could say we are together. If you want to.”
Again I nodded.
“Good.” He bent his head, and his lips barely brushed mine.
The seniors roared, and we sprang apart, but they were laughing at some joke of their own, not at us. Still, Miguel jerked his head in the direction of the main hall. “Come on, Aidyn. We’d better go dance, OK?”
I wished I could tell him that anything he wanted would be OK with me, but I didn’t have any courage of my own.
The next Friday Mom let Miguel take me on our first two-of-us date. His mom drove us to the local street fair, and we walked the rows of booths. Neither of us had much money, and it didn’t matter. We had each other, and enough, Miguel said, to get ourselves some dessert.
“We don’t need it, Miguel.” I held his hand, my shoulder pressed close to his arm. “We don’t need anything else.”
Smoke from a barbecue drifted through the stalls. I couldn’t tell when it got dark because of the blaring lights. The place felt like a carnival, crowds moving and bumping us, not seeing us but still a part of us. The scents of popcorn and roasted, sugared pecans, chocolate, and french-fries wafted in the air. A country western band played, interrupted by the sounds of laughter, a kid crying, and the hiss of a helium tank. All around were painted wood and blown glass, hand-sewn dresses, and handmade jewelry.
“Look at these.” Miguel pulled me toward a booth. A hodgepodge of silver dragons and wizards, crystal balls clutched in tiny silver claws and earrings spilled out of wooden trays and across crumpled turquoise silk. Miguel pointed to a case of necklaces. “Did you see the crosses? You said you wanted one, didn’t you?”
I had. Most of the girls and a lot of the guys in the youth group wore one. I wanted one, just to prove I belonged.
“This one.” He pointed again and the woman working the booth unlocked the case and lifted it out. “How much? I’ve got fifteen dollars.” He grinned at me. “If you don’t mind skipping the ice cream.”
“I don’t mind. But Miguel, I don’t want you to spend all your money on me.”
“I do.”
“Oh, Miguel—”
“Sorry,” the woman said as she laid the chain over Miguel’s palm. “This one is twenty. It’s made with a special procedure called the ‘lost wax’ method. I make the mold from wax, pour in the silver and as it sets the wax is melted, or lost. Makes for a one-of-a-kind design.” She smiled and waved for me to take a closer look. Dull, like pewter, a tiny rose grew from the base and bloomed in the center.
Miguel turned to me, stricken. “I don’t have that much. I’m sorry, Aidyn, if I could—”
“That’s OK, really.”
“Look at me,” the woman said.
I turned to her. “What?”
She tipped my chin up and lifted my glasses to stare into my eyes. Her face blurred, but I could still sense the way she studied me. Her eyes were so
After our third dance, Miguel led me to the area set aside for the punch and cookies. “Are you hungry already?” I teased. “What happened to that dinner you told me you ate?”
He grinned. “I just wanted to get away from the speakers.”
I nodded. “We don’t have to yell as loud here.” I looked down at my hands, clutched together.
“Aidyn.” He paced away and then back. Over his shoulder I saw a group of seniors surround the refreshments table. “What do you think of us?”
We were an “us”? Could the world get any better? “I think—you said we’re friends.”
“I think I did, too.” He grinned. “But some of the guys—oh, Wallis and them—they think…they say because we’re always together that we’re…together. You know?”
I nodded.
“So I was wondering.” He looked away, biting his lip. I wanted so badly to give him the words, or the courage, whatever it was he needed to be able to say what I needed to hear. I lay my hand on his arm and he looked down at me. “Why don’t we just…we could say we are together. If you want to.”
Again I nodded.
“Good.” He bent his head, and his lips barely brushed mine.
The seniors roared, and we sprang apart, but they were laughing at some joke of their own, not at us. Still, Miguel jerked his head in the direction of the main hall. “Come on, Aidyn. We’d better go dance, OK?”
I wished I could tell him that anything he wanted would be OK with me, but I didn’t have any courage of my own.
The next Friday Mom let Miguel take me on our first two-of-us date. His mom drove us to the local street fair, and we walked the rows of booths. Neither of us had much money, and it didn’t matter. We had each other, and enough, Miguel said, to get ourselves some dessert.
“We don’t need it, Miguel.” I held his hand, my shoulder pressed close to his arm. “We don’t need anything else.”
Smoke from a barbecue drifted through the stalls. I couldn’t tell when it got dark because of the blaring lights. The place felt like a carnival, crowds moving and bumping us, not seeing us but still a part of us. The scents of popcorn and roasted, sugared pecans, chocolate, and french-fries wafted in the air. A country western band played, interrupted by the sounds of laughter, a kid crying, and the hiss of a helium tank. All around were painted wood and blown glass, hand-sewn dresses, and handmade jewelry.
“Look at these.” Miguel pulled me toward a booth. A hodgepodge of silver dragons and wizards, crystal balls clutched in tiny silver claws and earrings spilled out of wooden trays and across crumpled turquoise silk. Miguel pointed to a case of necklaces. “Did you see the crosses? You said you wanted one, didn’t you?”
I had. Most of the girls and a lot of the guys in the youth group wore one. I wanted one, just to prove I belonged.
“This one.” He pointed again and the woman working the booth unlocked the case and lifted it out. “How much? I’ve got fifteen dollars.” He grinned at me. “If you don’t mind skipping the ice cream.”
“I don’t mind. But Miguel, I don’t want you to spend all your money on me.”
“I do.”
“Oh, Miguel—”
“Sorry,” the woman said as she laid the chain over Miguel’s palm. “This one is twenty. It’s made with a special procedure called the ‘lost wax’ method. I make the mold from wax, pour in the silver and as it sets the wax is melted, or lost. Makes for a one-of-a-kind design.” She smiled and waved for me to take a closer look. Dull, like pewter, a tiny rose grew from the base and bloomed in the center.
Miguel turned to me, stricken. “I don’t have that much. I’m sorry, Aidyn, if I could—”
“That’s OK, really.”
“Look at me,” the woman said.
I turned to her. “What?”
She tipped my chin up and lifted my glasses to stare into my eyes. Her face blurred, but I could still sense the way she studied me. Her eyes were so
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