by Ann Herrick
"Me too," I said, surprised he thought I might be the one to back out.
"So, uh, I guess we were at cross purposes." Dad made a great business about studying the box of sugar packets on the table.
"Basically." I stirred my soda with the straw and tried to relax. "You know, I wish you hadn't gone to see Ms Romanos."
"I thought she had a right to know what you were thinking," Dad said.
"Dad!" My voice rose. "She doesn't have to know my every thought." I noticed people at the next table staring at me, so I lowered my voice. "After all, I hadn't made a decision about softball."
"Hadn't?" Dad raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you have now?"
"Yes." I took a deep breath.
"Well …?
"I'm going out for the team again this year."
"That's great!" Dad broke into a big smile. "First I'll—"
"Hold it. Let me finish." My throat was dry, so I took a sip of soda. "I've decided that this year softball is not going to be a burden. It's going to be fun."
"Fun?" Dad's eyebrows shot up. "Now, look, you'll have to work—"
"Dad. Please. Let me finish."
Dad kind of squirmed as he glanced around at all the people in the cafe. "Okay. Go on."
"I'm going to work hard. I'm going to do my best. But I'm not going to spend all my time worrying. I'm not going to let myself feel that I have to prove something to you, or anyone. I'm definitely not going to let myself think that whatever I do is never good enough. That's what I meant when I said I was going to have fun."
At first Dad didn't say anything. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way."
"I should've said something long ago. It got to the point where mistakes just killed me. I worried about them all the time. I totally was afraid I'd let you down."
Dad reached across the table and took my hand. "Sivia, I feel terrible. I didn't realize …."
"It was partly my fault. I was afraid to question your decisions, because I was even more afraid of making my own."
"I guess what you're saying, in a nice way, is 'Butt out, Dad.'"
"Well ... I guess that does sum it up."
"I'll try." Dad gave me a small smile. "But it won't be easy."
Now I had to smile. I'd had my own problems with not taking the easy way out of things.
"I guess this means no more recording your games." Dad sighed.
"Record all you want," I said. "Maybe I'll look at them—on my own."
"Okay," Dad said. "You have yourself a deal." He pointed to my bandaged hand. "By the way, how's your wrist? If you don't mind me asking."
"It's getting better. Sometimes I almost forget about it."
"Just be sure to ... I mean, I hope it's better real soon."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Well, I've got a meeting with the dean in about twenty minutes. I've got time to give you a ride home, if you need one."
I thought for a second. Maybe I could still catch Keeley. "How about a ride back to school? I, er, have something to take care of there."
"No problem."
* * *
"You can let me off at this side door, Dad." It was closer to the chemistry lab.
"Okay." Dad reached over and lightly touched my shoulder. "I'm glad we had that talk."
"Me too." I blew Dad a kiss and hurried into the school.
I checked the chemistry lab. The lights were off and the doors were locked. I started to run for Keeley's locker, but had to slow down to a fast walk. Mr. Whipple was prowling the halls. Didn't that man ever go home?
Keeley wasn't at his locker, but I saw Ilana and Gavin just down the hall putting up posters.
"Hi," Ilana pointed to the wall. "What do you think?"
I took one look at the bright, abstract posters and tears pricked at my eyes.
"That's not exactly the reaction we were looking for," Gavin said.
I felt like a fool. I swallowed hard and blinked back the tears. I blurted out the whole story about Keeley and the dance and having to run off and leave him to meet my Dad. When I finished I let out a deep sigh and said, "Am I a total jerk, or what?"
"At least you worked things out with your Dad," Gavin said.
I knew he meant well, but it didn't make me feel any better.
"Men." Ilana jerked her thumb toward Gavin and rolled her eyes. "Let's think a minute. There must be a way to straighten this out."
I tried to think, but my mind was a jumble. As Ilana paced in a tight circle, however, I could see her brain cells clicking.
Suddenly she stopped and pointed at me. "You never actually turned down Keeley's invitation to the dance, did you?"
I thought for moment. "Well, no. I didn't. I ... I kind of … hesitated, and then he took off."
"Why did you hesitate?"
I blushed. In almost a whisper, I confessed. "I couldn't picture us as a couple there. I mean, how would we dance?"
Ilana stuck her hands on her hips. "Since Keeley asked you to the dance, don't you think he has some way of dancing with you?"
"That ... that never occurred to me."
"Hey," Gavin said. "Once on some TV movie I saw a guy in a wheelchair at a dance. He moved his head and arms and the girl danced in front of him. For the slow dances, she sat on the wheelchair with him."
"Easy enough," Ilana said. "Look, you do want to go to the dance with him, don't you?"
"Yes."
"So track him down and tell him. Before he asks someone else."
"I don't know where to look!"
"Bet we could find him," Gavin said. "I saw him leave just a few minutes ago."
"What?" Ilana exclaimed. "You could've mentioned this vital detail before now!"
"I just remembered," Gavin said. "I've got my car. Let's go."
"What are we waiting for?" Ilana grabbed my elbow and propelled me out to the parking lot. We jumped into Gavin's car. As we pulled out, he asked, "Which way?"
"Left," I said. "He lives on
Moss Street, and that's probably where he's going." My heart pounded. At first I was hopeful. But after a few blocks there was no sign of Keeley. He could be anywhere. We might never find him. At least not in time for me to make things right between us. Suddenly we were stuck in back of a garbage truck.
"I wish this guy would turn off," Gavin said. "He's crawling, and I can't see ahead of him."
The truck's right blinker flashed. It turned. Directly ahead of us was Keeley's van!
"There he is!" I cried.
Ilana pressed down on the horn. Gavin flashed the headlights. This seemed to go on for an eternity. But it was probably only a few seconds.
"He's pulling over!" Ilana said.
Gavin stopped in back of Keeley's van. Suddenly an icy fear twisted around my heart. What if Keeley wouldn't listen to me?
"What are you waiting for?" Ilana said. "Hurry. Before he takes off again!"
"B-but...," I stammered. "What if ... I mean, maybe he ... that is—"
In one swift motion Ilana reached across me, unlocked the door, pushed me out, and relocked the door.
As I stood there with my mouth open, she jabbed her finger in the direction of Keeley's van.
Finally, my mind swirling with doubt, I took a shaky breath and slowly walked up to the passenger side of the van. Keeley was looking at the rear-view mirror. I glanced back at Ilana. She signaled me to keep going.
I bit my lip and knocked on the window.
Keeley turned around, and for a moment just stared at me.
I half-smiled and pointed to the lock. He hesitated, then unlocked the door.
I climbed in and sat down. "Hi."
"Hi."
At least he was speaking to me. "I, uh, wanted to ...."
"What …?" Keeley looked confused, but also interested. I think.
"About the dance ...."
Keeley tightened up and just stared at me again.
For some reason, that bugged me. "You never did give me a chance to
answer, you know."
Keeley blinked with surprise. "As I remember, you couldn't wait a few lousy minutes after school for me."
"If you'd had the patience to wait for my explanation, you'd know that I had to run to catch the bus to meet my father."
"Oh?" Keeley looked appeased, at least temporarily. "Did you work things out?"
"I think so. And I have you to thank for getting me to talk to him in the first place. But that's not the main issue here!" I slammed my hand on the dashboard for emphasis. Unfortunately, it was my bandaged hand. "Yeeouch!"
Keeley gasped, then burst out laughing!
I don't know why, but it made me laugh too. Sort of. "Ha-ha, ouch, ha, ooh, ha-ha, eech," was how it went as I massaged my wrist to ease the pain.
"I'm sorry." Keeley toned down his laugh to his familiar lop-sided grin. "I don't know why I laughed. Is your hand okay?"
"I think so." I don't know why I laughed either, but at least it broke the tension. But now what? How could I gracefully accept Keeley's invitation to the dance? As I tried to think, I rubbed my hand. My hand. That was it! "I wanted to accept your invitation to the dance," I said, "but there was this one small problem."
"Oh?" Keeley lifted his chin. "What problem was that?"
"How could we dance when I can hardly move this stupid hand?"
"Your hand?" Keeley's eyebrows arched mischievously. "That was the problem?"
"Absolutely."
"A person as clever as you could figure out a way for us to dance." Keeley pointed to my wrist. "Even under the circumstances."
I felt myself blush under Keeley's steady gaze. "Yeah … I decided that between the two of us we could figure something out."
Suddenly, horns honked all around us. I peeked out the window to see a small traffic jam around Keeley's van. It looked as if the basketball team must have finished practice and everyone had stopped to see what was clogging the road. I saw Brad and Marcy staring at us with curiosity.
"Let me get this straight." Keeley flashed his crooked smile. "To sum this all up, your answer to my invitation is ...?
"Yes." I leaned over and slipped my arms around Keeley's neck.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Todd, in a car with Lona, pointing to his puckered mouth. If Keeley and I were going to inspire Todd to be more optimistic about his situation, I figured we'd better do it by example. So I touched my lips to Keeley's, and next thing, we were kissing. A long, warm, sweet kiss.
Right there in front of everybody.
The End
About the Author
Ann Herrick grew up in Connecticut, where she graduated from The Morgan School and Quinnipiac University. She now lives in Oregon with her husband, who was her high‑school sweetheart. Their wonderful daughter is grown, married and gainfully employed, and has given Ann her only grand-dog, Puff, a bloodhound‑rottweiller‑beagle mix. While she misses the East Coast, especially houses built before 1900, she enjoys the green valleys, fresh air and low humidity in the Willamette Valley of Oregon. Ann loves cats, walking, the Oregon Ducks and working in her back yard. In addition to stories and books for children and young adults, Ann also writes copy for humorous and conventional greeting cards. She loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted through her web site: http://annherrickauthor.com
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