weight. It would
be easy. The pounds that melted away following Vivian’s inspirational pep talk
at orientation were nothing compared to the weight that started to vanish from
the sheer joy of being with Luke—and the queasiness she began to experience
during the third week of school.
Once the cause of the queasiness was confirmed by a home
pregnancy test, Snow forced herself to eat. The weight was necessary to conceal
the secret she alone knew, and alone would know, until the time was
right to tell Luke.
It wasn’t right yet. Luke had too much on his mind. Noah, who
had proclaimed Luke’s innocence when no one wanted to hear it, had experienced
an episode of slurred speech and right-handed numbness.
Upon being rushed to the emergency room by Luke, Noah was
diagnosed with having had a transient ischemic attack. A TIA was a warning, the
neurologist explained, of the potential for a future stroke.
Noah’s symptoms cleared, and he was taking aspirin as
prescribed, and he had returned to the vibrancy he had felt ever since his
lonely existence had been invaded by “the youngster.”
Noah wasn’t dependent on Luke. He had reinvigorated lapsed
friendships and made new ones. But Luke worried about him nonetheless.
Luke also had a decision to make and people pressuring him to
make it. An athletic scholarship was his at whatever college he chose. The
coach was pushing for Stanford, the principal for Yale, and his teammates,
hoping for a tandem pick, urged him to select UCLA, Notre Dame, or Purdue.
Luke’s decision would take him away from Quail Ridge . . .
and from her. Sometimes it seemed that he was already gone. But other times,
wondrous times, he would look at her as if she was the only place he wanted to
be.
Snow made a decision of her own. She would tell Luke about
the baby only after he had made plans for the future he wanted.
“Who are you taking to the Glass Slipper Ball?” Luke asked
her one day.
It was early January. Hype for the upcoming prom was
everywhere. Banners in the hallways. Articles in the paper. Tickets on sale
during lunch. And, in the display case near the Girls’ Club lounge, a
collection of charms, on loan from alumnae, spanning fifty-five years.
This year’s model was also on display. Snow’s classmates had
opted for a traditional high heel, in gold, with sapphire rhinestones.
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are, Snow. With me. But you have to ask me.”
Luke had been remote since the Christmas holidays. She had
feared he would never come back. But now he was focused only and intently on
her.
“You’ll say yes if I do?”
“I will.”
“Okay. Would you like to go to the Glass Slipper Ball
with—you can’t. You and Noah will be at the swim meet at UCLA.”
“We’ll fly to Los Angeles early Sunday morning and arrive in
time for my first event. I’ve already checked with the coach. It’s all right
with him. I didn’t ask about my midnight curfew, but I will. I’m sure Noah will
be fine with it, but the coach also has to agree.”
Snow didn’t care about dancing until one. The dream was going
to the ball with Luke. She wouldn’t be fleeing from her prince as midnight
neared. She and Luke would leave together, in time to get her home, and then
him home, before the clock struck twelve.
And they would walk—not run—away.
“You don’t need to ask him, Luke. Leaving before midnight is
fine.”
SIX
Hilltop
Country Club
Glass
Slipper Ball
Saturday,
January 14
Sixteen
years ago
“Snow! You look beautiful!” Fairy
Godmother Vivian exclaimed. “That pink is fabulous on you.”
“Thank you, Vivian.”
“And Luke . . . so dashing in a tux.”
“Hey, Vivian.”
With a flourish, Vivian produced the evening’s pearl-white
dance program with its golden tassel, to which was tied Snow’s very own charm.
“Consider yourself slippered.”
“Thank you,” Snow said again, overwhelmed by Vivian’s
attentiveness.
But that was Vivian. She made everyone feel
be easy. The pounds that melted away following Vivian’s inspirational pep talk
at orientation were nothing compared to the weight that started to vanish from
the sheer joy of being with Luke—and the queasiness she began to experience
during the third week of school.
Once the cause of the queasiness was confirmed by a home
pregnancy test, Snow forced herself to eat. The weight was necessary to conceal
the secret she alone knew, and alone would know, until the time was
right to tell Luke.
It wasn’t right yet. Luke had too much on his mind. Noah, who
had proclaimed Luke’s innocence when no one wanted to hear it, had experienced
an episode of slurred speech and right-handed numbness.
Upon being rushed to the emergency room by Luke, Noah was
diagnosed with having had a transient ischemic attack. A TIA was a warning, the
neurologist explained, of the potential for a future stroke.
Noah’s symptoms cleared, and he was taking aspirin as
prescribed, and he had returned to the vibrancy he had felt ever since his
lonely existence had been invaded by “the youngster.”
Noah wasn’t dependent on Luke. He had reinvigorated lapsed
friendships and made new ones. But Luke worried about him nonetheless.
Luke also had a decision to make and people pressuring him to
make it. An athletic scholarship was his at whatever college he chose. The
coach was pushing for Stanford, the principal for Yale, and his teammates,
hoping for a tandem pick, urged him to select UCLA, Notre Dame, or Purdue.
Luke’s decision would take him away from Quail Ridge . . .
and from her. Sometimes it seemed that he was already gone. But other times,
wondrous times, he would look at her as if she was the only place he wanted to
be.
Snow made a decision of her own. She would tell Luke about
the baby only after he had made plans for the future he wanted.
“Who are you taking to the Glass Slipper Ball?” Luke asked
her one day.
It was early January. Hype for the upcoming prom was
everywhere. Banners in the hallways. Articles in the paper. Tickets on sale
during lunch. And, in the display case near the Girls’ Club lounge, a
collection of charms, on loan from alumnae, spanning fifty-five years.
This year’s model was also on display. Snow’s classmates had
opted for a traditional high heel, in gold, with sapphire rhinestones.
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are, Snow. With me. But you have to ask me.”
Luke had been remote since the Christmas holidays. She had
feared he would never come back. But now he was focused only and intently on
her.
“You’ll say yes if I do?”
“I will.”
“Okay. Would you like to go to the Glass Slipper Ball
with—you can’t. You and Noah will be at the swim meet at UCLA.”
“We’ll fly to Los Angeles early Sunday morning and arrive in
time for my first event. I’ve already checked with the coach. It’s all right
with him. I didn’t ask about my midnight curfew, but I will. I’m sure Noah will
be fine with it, but the coach also has to agree.”
Snow didn’t care about dancing until one. The dream was going
to the ball with Luke. She wouldn’t be fleeing from her prince as midnight
neared. She and Luke would leave together, in time to get her home, and then
him home, before the clock struck twelve.
And they would walk—not run—away.
“You don’t need to ask him, Luke. Leaving before midnight is
fine.”
SIX
Hilltop
Country Club
Glass
Slipper Ball
Saturday,
January 14
Sixteen
years ago
“Snow! You look beautiful!” Fairy
Godmother Vivian exclaimed. “That pink is fabulous on you.”
“Thank you, Vivian.”
“And Luke . . . so dashing in a tux.”
“Hey, Vivian.”
With a flourish, Vivian produced the evening’s pearl-white
dance program with its golden tassel, to which was tied Snow’s very own charm.
“Consider yourself slippered.”
“Thank you,” Snow said again, overwhelmed by Vivian’s
attentiveness.
But that was Vivian. She made everyone feel
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