www.whyville.net Oct 5, 2008 Weekly Issue



msof57
Times Writer

Are You Afraid to Cry: Part 4

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I raised my left eyebrow.

"Aren't you a little old for me?" He lightly punched my shoulder. "Aren't you a little too young for me? C'mon, let's dance!" He grabbed my hand.

Next thing I knew, I was dancing. I knew every twist, every step, every turn. The people in the diner clapped their hands to the beat while Elvis's voice blared over the old jukebox in the corner. Louis grabbed my waist and other hand and spun me around.

I was grinning the whole time.

When the music stopped I was in Louis's arms. We both laughed while the diner broke into applause.

When we paid for the food and climbed into his van our sides were hurting from laughter. And as if on cue, "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller came on to the radio. I snapped my fingers while Louis attempted to sing along as we drove back to the football field.

At last, Louis said, "I've never seen a girl dance like that." I blushed. "What do you mean 'like that?'" He flashed me a smile. "So sure of herself, not afraid to act like a complete idiot."

I burst out laughing once more. "You got lucky. Don't expect anything like that from me again! I didn't even know I could dance!"

His eyes were bright as we pulled into the parking lot. We both took in a deep breath and looked at each other for a moment. He glanced at his watch, breaking the moment. "Ah!" he cried. "I only have 15 minutes until the game starts!" We rushed out of the car and stopped behind the bleachers. I made to take off his jersey but he stopped me and took my hand. "Keep it," he said, brushing some hair behind my ear. "I have an extra in the locker room."

And the next thing I knew, I was hugging him. I felt his arms close around me. I had never felt so close to anyone before, not even Mary. He made me feel special, unique. Amazing.

I said into his chest, "Score a touchdown for me?" "Of course," I heard him say.

He gave me a last squeeze and ran toward the sea of red and black jerseys. With a last glance behind his shoulder, he disappeared into the locker room.

He didn't score a touchdown. He scored three.

The next week went by slowly. I counted the days, hours, even minutes until Friday afternoon. School was becoming lonely without Mary by my side in the hallways, and I wished for a friend, and Louis seemed to satisfy that longing. I often found people staring at me lately, but they turned away when I caught their eye, faces bright red.

When Friday morning finally came I walked into school eager to make it through this last school day. As I stood in the school lobby with the other eighth graders waiting for the morning bell to ring, I saw Mary walking toward me.

I let out a sigh of relief.

She was wearing blue, a bright sky blue t-shirt. The black eyeliner was gone, and her nails were no longer a dark purple. I glanced at her legs. No fish nets!

When she approached me she opened her mouth to speak but looked down in shame. I could hear her mutter the words, "I'm an idiot." My eyes narrowed.

"You're not an idiot!" She shook her head and looked at me. "You were my only friend, I treated you like crap."

My head spun and my heart began racing faster and faster. "People say a lot of things," I stated. "What to wear, how to act." A tear ran down Mary's cheek. "You should try being yourself." We both gave each other a hug and I wiped away her tears. When we broke apart I began playing with her hair. I took the rubber band around my wrist and put her hair into a pony tail. I backed away.

"Perfect," I said silently.

Mary touched it lightly. And very softly, she whispered, "Thank you."

That afternoon, I glanced at the clock in Earth Science. I tapped my pencil impatiently, waiting for the hands to reach 2:30.

Suddenly, a crumbled piece of paper hit my shoulder. Discretely, I picked it up off of the floor. Turning my back to the teacher I read,

I put the note down and looked at the other end of the room. Melanie raised her eyebrows at me.

Hastily, I wrote on the back, "NO!"

Melanie gave me a dirty look after reading it.

-msof57

Author's Note: If you have any questions about this series you can y-mail me and ask but they won't be answered until I get a future article published following AYATC.

 

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