breathing fire on the front, his new Levi’s, and the brown leather jacket they’d found this summer in a used clothing store. It still smelled like new leather, and looked like it’d hardly been worn.
At ten minutes to seven, he showed back up at the school, taking Mikey back to Mama so she could watch him. She’d said it worked out just fine because Mikey would get to help her pour punch into cups and he liked doing that, so Chantry didn’t feel too bad about not watching him.
It was straight up seven when he went outside the front of the school to see if Cinda really would show up. He wasn’t at all sure she would. Maybe she’d just asked him on a dare. Donny Ray didn’t seem to think so, but he wouldn’t really know. He leaned up against the brick wall by the front door, trying to look like he wasn’t waiting for anyone special. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched the cars coming into the school parking lot.
Since Donny had told him what people were saying, he noticed now when they looked at him, quick glances as if trying to decide whether Chantry was good enough to beat up three guys. It might have been funny if it wasn’t dangerous. Once Chris heard the rumors, he’d be bound and determined to prove them wrong. It wouldn’t matter that Chantry hadn’t done it. All that would matter is that people thought he had. Chris wouldn’t be able to stand anyone thinking Chantry had gotten the better of him at anything.
At a quarter after seven, Cinda got out of a long black car and came up the steps to the front of the school. She wore a short black and white striped skirt and a pink sweater that hugged her breasts and left part of her stomach bare. Her blonde hair was all loose around her face and her mouth looked shiny and pink. She smiled at him.
“Sorry I’m late. My daddy got home from work a little late and then we had to stop a few places before we got here.”
He stood up straight. “That’s okay. You ready to go in?”
To his surprise, she reached for his arm and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, fingers holding tight to his jacket. “Now I am.”
When they walked in to the gym together he saw heads turn, saw kids whisper, and some of the boys look hard at him. Several girls ran toward them, greeting Cinda like they hadn’t seen her in a hundred years while they kept looking over at Chantry. He wasn’t sure he liked this. He did like being with Cinda, though, having her hang onto his arm and laugh up at him through her lashes like girls always did when they liked a boy. That part was cool. It was the other part he wasn’t so sure about.
The gym looked a lot different at night, even more different than it had when he’d helped put up the bunting and strings of lights. Flashing colors washed across the walls and wood floors, red and green and blue flickers turning the basketball court into an illusion. He saw Mama across the gym at the refreshment table, Mikey sitting behind her in a folding chair and grinning with joy at being a part of it all.
“Uh, want some punch?” he asked Cinda when she finished talking to her friends, and she looked up at him with that smile that made his heart contract and his head get light.
“Sure.”
He left her talking to Cathy Chandler and Maryann Snowden, and went across the floor to the table that held bowls of fruit punch and plates of cookies, cupcakes, and some small little square cakes that Mama had said were called petty something.
“I see you’re with Cinda Sheridan,” Mama said when she ladled him up some punch, and handed him the paper cups with napkins wrapped around them. “You didn’t tell me that she’s your date.”
“No, ma’am. I guess I didn’t.” He knew he hadn’t. It hadn’t seemed real even when he was getting dressed; hoping his face didn’t break out like it did sometimes these days, hoping his cold wouldn’t come back and he didn’t say anything too stupid. Hoping Cinda showed up.
“Well,
At ten minutes to seven, he showed back up at the school, taking Mikey back to Mama so she could watch him. She’d said it worked out just fine because Mikey would get to help her pour punch into cups and he liked doing that, so Chantry didn’t feel too bad about not watching him.
It was straight up seven when he went outside the front of the school to see if Cinda really would show up. He wasn’t at all sure she would. Maybe she’d just asked him on a dare. Donny Ray didn’t seem to think so, but he wouldn’t really know. He leaned up against the brick wall by the front door, trying to look like he wasn’t waiting for anyone special. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched the cars coming into the school parking lot.
Since Donny had told him what people were saying, he noticed now when they looked at him, quick glances as if trying to decide whether Chantry was good enough to beat up three guys. It might have been funny if it wasn’t dangerous. Once Chris heard the rumors, he’d be bound and determined to prove them wrong. It wouldn’t matter that Chantry hadn’t done it. All that would matter is that people thought he had. Chris wouldn’t be able to stand anyone thinking Chantry had gotten the better of him at anything.
At a quarter after seven, Cinda got out of a long black car and came up the steps to the front of the school. She wore a short black and white striped skirt and a pink sweater that hugged her breasts and left part of her stomach bare. Her blonde hair was all loose around her face and her mouth looked shiny and pink. She smiled at him.
“Sorry I’m late. My daddy got home from work a little late and then we had to stop a few places before we got here.”
He stood up straight. “That’s okay. You ready to go in?”
To his surprise, she reached for his arm and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, fingers holding tight to his jacket. “Now I am.”
When they walked in to the gym together he saw heads turn, saw kids whisper, and some of the boys look hard at him. Several girls ran toward them, greeting Cinda like they hadn’t seen her in a hundred years while they kept looking over at Chantry. He wasn’t sure he liked this. He did like being with Cinda, though, having her hang onto his arm and laugh up at him through her lashes like girls always did when they liked a boy. That part was cool. It was the other part he wasn’t so sure about.
The gym looked a lot different at night, even more different than it had when he’d helped put up the bunting and strings of lights. Flashing colors washed across the walls and wood floors, red and green and blue flickers turning the basketball court into an illusion. He saw Mama across the gym at the refreshment table, Mikey sitting behind her in a folding chair and grinning with joy at being a part of it all.
“Uh, want some punch?” he asked Cinda when she finished talking to her friends, and she looked up at him with that smile that made his heart contract and his head get light.
“Sure.”
He left her talking to Cathy Chandler and Maryann Snowden, and went across the floor to the table that held bowls of fruit punch and plates of cookies, cupcakes, and some small little square cakes that Mama had said were called petty something.
“I see you’re with Cinda Sheridan,” Mama said when she ladled him up some punch, and handed him the paper cups with napkins wrapped around them. “You didn’t tell me that she’s your date.”
“No, ma’am. I guess I didn’t.” He knew he hadn’t. It hadn’t seemed real even when he was getting dressed; hoping his face didn’t break out like it did sometimes these days, hoping his cold wouldn’t come back and he didn’t say anything too stupid. Hoping Cinda showed up.
“Well,
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