longer than he normally does. Hannah waits awkwardly by the front door and stares at the fleur-de-lis symbols in the Landry’s wallpaper. When Baker finally breaks free of the hug and joins Hannah and Joanie in the car, Joanie turns around from the front seat and waggles her eyebrows.
“That was a beautiful hug,” Joanie says. “Did he give you more donuts, too?”
“Shush,” Baker says, and Hannah watches, in the rearview mirror, as Baker leans her head against the window and frowns.
On Sunday, Wally asks Hannah to meet him for coffee so they can work on their AP Government essays. They sit at the spindly black tables outside Garden District Coffee and argue about the structure of Wally’s essay, until Wally finally leans forward in his chair and watches Hannah reorganize his paragraphs.
“ That works better,” Hannah says.
Wally tilts his head sideways to look at his paper. Sunlight reflects off the lenses of his glasses. Behind the lenses, Hannah can see his eyes, calm but serious as they read what she has written.
“I think you’re right,” he says.
“I know I am,” she says.
“Hannah,” he says, and suddenly he looks breathless. “Will you go to the prom with me?”
Hannah’s stomach hops. Wally looks earnestly at her, the question still showing in his eyes.
“Yeah,” she says, and then she has the comforting sense that she is in a story, that she is correctly playing her part, that she has brought her personal touch to the role of Girl . She looks at Wally, at how he fits the role of Boy in his own way, with his fern green eyes and his square jaw and his hint of cologne, and she feels good.
“Yeah,” she says again, smiling. “I’d love to go with you.”
Wally smiles. He continues to look at her with that earnest way he has, like he might just tell her that she made the sun rise that morning, until Hannah breaks eye contact.
“Here,” she says, “let me look at your conclusion one more time.”
They stay there for another hour, comparing essays and suggesting ideas, Hannah correcting Wally’s grammatical errors and Wally pointing out flaws in Hannah’s arguments. Just as Hannah starts to pack up her things, her phone chimes with a text message alert.
Hey , Baker writes, want to get fro yo?
Can’t , Hannah replies, still at gd coffee with wall. He just asked me to prom.
She goes back to packing up her notes and drafts. Wally stands at the corner of the table, thumbing his booksack straps while he waits for her.
That’s great , Baker writes.
Yeah , Hannah writes as she and Wally walk to the back lot where they parked their cars. Now we can all go in the same group .
“Bye, Han,” Wally says when they reach their cars. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.”
He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, still thumbing his booksack straps, before walking forward to pull her into a hug.
“Bye,” he says.
“Bye,” Hannah says.
She reads Baker’s reply after she turns her car on. Yeah , Baker writes, it’s perfect.
The following week at school, the whole student body buzzes with excitement for Baton Rouge’s annual St. Patrick’s Day parade. Hannah and Joanie make plans for their friends to come over after the parade, since they are the only ones who live in the Garden District, close to the parade route. “Maybe we can sneak in some drinking afterwards,” Joanie says, her eyes bright. “Mom and Dad have that party to go to.”
“Maybe,” Hannah says. “If Dad actually ends up going.”
On Saturday, the 17 th , a large portion of the Garden District and a long stretch of Perkins Road are shut down for the parade. Hannah, Joanie, and their friends walk to the intersection of Terrace and Perkins, where hundreds of people mill about, all of them dressed in lime green or hunter green or Kelly green, all of them waiting for the parade floats to roll by.
Hannah stands between Wally and Baker at the front of the crowd, waving up at the
“That was a beautiful hug,” Joanie says. “Did he give you more donuts, too?”
“Shush,” Baker says, and Hannah watches, in the rearview mirror, as Baker leans her head against the window and frowns.
On Sunday, Wally asks Hannah to meet him for coffee so they can work on their AP Government essays. They sit at the spindly black tables outside Garden District Coffee and argue about the structure of Wally’s essay, until Wally finally leans forward in his chair and watches Hannah reorganize his paragraphs.
“ That works better,” Hannah says.
Wally tilts his head sideways to look at his paper. Sunlight reflects off the lenses of his glasses. Behind the lenses, Hannah can see his eyes, calm but serious as they read what she has written.
“I think you’re right,” he says.
“I know I am,” she says.
“Hannah,” he says, and suddenly he looks breathless. “Will you go to the prom with me?”
Hannah’s stomach hops. Wally looks earnestly at her, the question still showing in his eyes.
“Yeah,” she says, and then she has the comforting sense that she is in a story, that she is correctly playing her part, that she has brought her personal touch to the role of Girl . She looks at Wally, at how he fits the role of Boy in his own way, with his fern green eyes and his square jaw and his hint of cologne, and she feels good.
“Yeah,” she says again, smiling. “I’d love to go with you.”
Wally smiles. He continues to look at her with that earnest way he has, like he might just tell her that she made the sun rise that morning, until Hannah breaks eye contact.
“Here,” she says, “let me look at your conclusion one more time.”
They stay there for another hour, comparing essays and suggesting ideas, Hannah correcting Wally’s grammatical errors and Wally pointing out flaws in Hannah’s arguments. Just as Hannah starts to pack up her things, her phone chimes with a text message alert.
Hey , Baker writes, want to get fro yo?
Can’t , Hannah replies, still at gd coffee with wall. He just asked me to prom.
She goes back to packing up her notes and drafts. Wally stands at the corner of the table, thumbing his booksack straps while he waits for her.
That’s great , Baker writes.
Yeah , Hannah writes as she and Wally walk to the back lot where they parked their cars. Now we can all go in the same group .
“Bye, Han,” Wally says when they reach their cars. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.”
He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, still thumbing his booksack straps, before walking forward to pull her into a hug.
“Bye,” he says.
“Bye,” Hannah says.
She reads Baker’s reply after she turns her car on. Yeah , Baker writes, it’s perfect.
The following week at school, the whole student body buzzes with excitement for Baton Rouge’s annual St. Patrick’s Day parade. Hannah and Joanie make plans for their friends to come over after the parade, since they are the only ones who live in the Garden District, close to the parade route. “Maybe we can sneak in some drinking afterwards,” Joanie says, her eyes bright. “Mom and Dad have that party to go to.”
“Maybe,” Hannah says. “If Dad actually ends up going.”
On Saturday, the 17 th , a large portion of the Garden District and a long stretch of Perkins Road are shut down for the parade. Hannah, Joanie, and their friends walk to the intersection of Terrace and Perkins, where hundreds of people mill about, all of them dressed in lime green or hunter green or Kelly green, all of them waiting for the parade floats to roll by.
Hannah stands between Wally and Baker at the front of the crowd, waving up at the
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