We Meet in the White

Midnight, November 5, 2024

Election Day has come and gone. The ballots have been counted, the decision reached, and it’s all over at last. All across the United States, the winning side celebrates, bursting fireworks and champagne corks like it’s the Fourth of July, while the losers’ unused explosives are buried and their champagne used to drown their sorrows. Tomorrow, the riots will start, for there were rioters ready to march no matter the outcome. Such is the state of the world.

Somewhere in this great country, an old Mexican janitor shuffles into a high school gym. It’s dark and deserted, but he pauses as his foot touches water. The ground is wet. Someone has been here recently. Out comes his flashlight to illuminate the scene before him. Two young figures lie prone on the ground beside the swimming pool, their hands clasped: a boy, drenched, his face blue from lack of oxygen, and a girl, lying across his chest, a small knife clutched in her hand. The janitor moves closer, discovering a new detail every moment: the two leather-bound books lying neatly stacked at the girl’s side, the matching gold wedding bands on the youths’ clasped hands, and the water pooled on the ground around them, tinged with red. The beam rests on their young faces, all too familiar to the old man, and he drops the light in dismay. As it rolls haphazardly on the ground, a firework explodes in the sky beyond the gym windows, and an exultant voice cries, “We did it! Game over, losers!”

The janitor watches the firework fade away and raises his eyes to heaven. “Madre mia,” he whispers. “What have we won?”

Chapter 1

October 11, 2024

Judy

Dear Diary,

Did you know I go to a segregated school? No, not like that; it’s mixed-race enough, although my dad would be totally onboard with the opposite. It’s not about the color of your skin, but of your party. It’s the Reds against the Blues, down to the last battle. Not a day goes by without some kind of fight breaking out. Only yesterday, four boys got into such a bad tussle in the hall that the nurse had to send them home, bruised and battle-scarred. Even the sports teams are divided that way. If a group is put together for so much as a science project, the teachers are careful not to cross that line. This battle even extends to the school board! It’s made up entirely of members of the two foremost families in town, the Montgomerys and the Caprons; two more diametrically opposed families couldn’t be found, and the board meetings are regular warzones.

I sometimes think they should repaint all the chairs in the classrooms, half blue and half red. They might leave a line of white down the middle for non-partisan students, but I don’t think there are any. If they were to number those chairs, too, in order of your importance to your side, I would certainly be near the top, as a member of the blazing red Capron family. I wouldn’t be in the first chair, though. That spot would be reserved for my cousin, Tyrone. While I may be the only child of Daniel Capron, leader of the red movement in town, I really try to stay out of politics as much as I can. Tyrone, however, fancies himself a modern-day crusader for the Republican cause, and I’m quite sure he would willingly fight a Democrat to the death.

In fact, I don’t think I would have the second chair, either. That spot would go to Paul Conte, only son of my dad’s best friend, Randall Conte, another true warrior for the red cause, and the boy my family is bound and determined to pair me up with. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice enough guy, but talking to him feels like a visit to a wax museum. If you get him started on politics, he can get pretty fired up, but, other than that, he’s about the blandest guy I’ve ever met.

Is it weird to be this expositional in a diary? This is my first time having one, so I don’t really know the right way to do it. I’ve always wanted to journal, but never could see myself sticking to it. I haven’t got the attention span, really, but something so amazing just happened to me that I have to let it out somewhere. It’s something I can’t tell anyone else, so you, dear diary, have to be my sole confidant.

I guess I’m just enough of a romantic to imagine that, someday, a descendant of mine will find this old diary buried in a cardboard box up in their attic and want to read it. For their sake, I felt I’d better start with some important background details, just so it will be clear. I’m realizing now that you’ll see that, too, future reader, and think your Grandma Judy was very silly, but at least you’ll know how much trouble I went to. I think I’ll write it all in the present tense, too, just to make it a little more exciting for you.

It's the last day of homecoming. I often wonder why they even bother to have classes the last day. No one is paying attention to schoolwork. They’re all too excited about the dance. The hallway is a maze of students sporting the school colors and logo. It’s been quite a fashion week, with the themes of Barbie, Renaissance, favorite movie character, and 1950’s, and it’s almost weird seeing everyone in normal clothes again.

There was a battle between the opposing sides of the school board over having the 1950s theme on the last day and extending it to the dance, with an authentic swing band and everything, but the conservatives lost out, as usual. I think it’s just because the other side can talk louder… and longer. The liberals on that board could talk a person’s ear off. Besides, they argued that themes should only be for school days during Spirit Week, not for the dance. That’s what they always say, and what always ends up being the decision, but our side’s been trying to theme the dance forever. Maybe they’ll manage it someday, but I have my doubts.

Because of arguments like this one, it’s become a school tradition to have a DJ at every dance who plays song requests during the breaks from the live music. Anyone can write down a song request and put it in his hat, and he draws them at random and plays as many as he can. That way, anyone who’s not a big fan of the theme can have some music they like, too. Rock and roll isn’t a big thing around our household, so the dances can be a bit much for me. I usually get to hear at least one of my requests, and it's always a high point of the night.

I edge around a freshman couple in matching hoodies emblazoned with the emblem of our football team to get to my locker. There’s a sticky note bearing a lovely, complimentary message from some blue student stuck to my door. No surprise there. As a Capron, I get a lot of hate mail from the other side. I just rip it off, crumple it, and send it sailing into the nearby trash can. Years of dealing with this has given me great aim. I could go out for the basketball team.

I unlock my locker door and start rummaging inside for my notebook. I don’t usually leave my locker in such a mess, but I was running late this morning and ended up shoving everything in too quickly. Naturally, the notebook’s jammed at the very back, but, with a few good tugs, I get it free. Now, I just need my history textbook, my notes from yesterday’s class, that other reference book….

As I turn slowly away from my locker, still going through my mental checklist, someone slams into me full force, sending books and papers flying. Almost without thinking, I dive down to gather up my stuff before it gets trampled in the crowded hallway. As I do, I hear a boy’s voice saying, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even see you there!”

I’m vaguely aware of someone crouching down next to me as I lunge for my history book. I snatch it a moment before it’s smashed or kicked away by a crowd of juniors and turn toward the voice, “No, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking where….”

My sentence dries up in my throat as I look into the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but stare. Forgive me for saying it, but this has got to be the most stunning boy I’ve ever seen. I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s like looking at a Greek statue. Every detail perfect, from the dark, wavy hair, just tinged with auburn, to the finely chiseled features, to those ocean blue eyes that are staring right into mine.

I think it’s a full minute before anything in the world moves. It’s like… time is holding its breath. Maybe I am, too. I don’t even know. There seems to be nothing on this earth but him. Suddenly, I realize I’m not the only one staring. He’s gazing at me with the same intensity and wonder. Something amazing just happened, and he feels it, too. It’s like a magnetic field extending from his eyes to mine, strong and unbreakable.

Slowly, the world comes back into focus. I start to hear the buzz of voices, the shuffle of feet, and the feeling of being bumped and shoved slightly as other students maneuver around me. I feel a book being pressed into my hand and look down to see him handing me back my reference book. In that moment, the gaze is broken, and all the noises of the school come back full blast, nearly making me lose my balance.

“Woah! Steady there.” He catches my arm, and I feel a little thrill run through me. We stand up slowly, locking gazes again. I want to say something, anything, but I can’t seem to think of any words. I can feel myself starting to get lost again….

“Hey, loser! Not dead from the Jab yet?”

I look across the hall in surprise and roll my eyes. Jerry Gardner, of course. I appreciate how devoted he is to the Republican cause, but I wish he didn’t have to be such a jerk about it sometimes.

“Not yet! Oh, and thank your president for the Pandemic!”

I turn back to the boy in shock and see him snorting at Jerry, then turning back to me. That’s when I see it: the little blue ribbon pinned to his jacket. He’s from the other side! Oh, yes, we wear ribbons to identify ourselves here, or didn’t I mention it? At almost the same moment, his eyes flick to the collar of my top and I see his expression change. I straighten the books in my arms.

“I, um, I have to get to class,” I say, quickly turning away to shut the door of my locker.

“Yeah. Me, too,” he says, looking down. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” I say, not looking at him. “Bye.” Then, I turn and hurry toward my history class. Halfway down the hall, I stop and turn back. I can’t help it! He’s gone, lost in the crowd, just like me.

I turn away again, slowly, and my eyes suddenly fall on the book at the top of the pile in my arms. It’s a leatherbound journal my dad gave me years ago. I must have picked it up by accident when I was digging for my notebook. I’ve wanted to keep a diary for a long time, and Dad’s always encouraging me to, but I never really wanted to before. I’ve got something to write now. Maybe this is a good time to start.

Well, dear diary, that’s how I happened to start writing in you. I’ve now completed the above-mentioned history class. You can probably guess how well I did in it. The teacher actually had to call my name several times to ask me a question. I didn’t know the answer, naturally, and now, only about a half-hour later, I can’t even remember the question. I can’t think of anything but him. I don’t even know his name. I know he’s on the other side, though, and that’s not a good start. He must be new here, though. Who knows, maybe he’s just been influenced by the wrong group since he came here. Maybe I can change him!

Oh, who am I kidding? This one’s going at the top of the list for relationships that are doomed from the start. I’d better just forget it. I think I’ll write down here that I’m going to forget all about it and him. I’ve heard writing something down makes it sink in more. I have to get to my next class now, but I’ll have more to tell you later, I’m sure.

Roman

So, I know it’s been a while. In fact, I’m shocked to find myself actually sitting down and writing in my old journal, but I’ve got to put this down somewhere. It’s driving me crazy, and I know I can’t tell anyone about it. It’s still as fresh in my mind as it was over an hour ago, right after it happened. Like it’s burned in my brain.

I can still see her. Big brown eyes, staring right into mine with the same wonder I felt. I think the world stopped for a minute. She felt it, too. What was it? Too bad I didn’t see the ribbon in her collar before I saw her eyes. It never would have gone any farther, but I didn’t see it until it was too late. It had already happened.

What, though? What happened? I don’t know how to describe it. It was like… like seeing an old friend you’ve never met before, or like recognizing a song the first time it plays. The way our eyes connected; it was like I’d spent my whole life looking at her. I’ve known my share of girls, gone on dates, just like any other guy, but this was different. This girl is different. There’s something about her, like it’s the first time I’ve ever seen a real, genuine person. She was beautiful, but in sort of an innocent way. Something in her eyes had a “never been kissed” look, if you know what I mean. I think I liked that. The girls I’ve met are all so… so… well, you know how girls are these days. My dad would hate me for saying this. He’s all for changing times and the modern way of life, but I’ve always kind of liked the way he describes school and girls and friends being when he was young. I think part of me has always wanted that. Maybe I’ve found it.

Even after I saw the ribbon, it killed me watching her walk away. She was lost in the crowd so quickly. You know, I think I would have run right after her if it hadn’t been for Mark. She was barely gone when,

“Hey, Roman!” my friend Mark hit me with a side hug like a truck. I barely noticed. He always does that. “I been looking everywhere for you! Do you want me to walk you to your class or not?”

I shook my head. “Dude, I’ve been here two weeks now. I think I can find my way to my own classes.”

“Well, so far, you’ve been late to everything but lunch, and even that you just barely made, so I thought I better help you.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

“So, guess whose been nominated for Homecoming King,” he said.

“No way,” I said. “Dude, congrats!”

“Not me,” he said. “You!”

I stopped. “What? Me?! I just transferred here! How could I get nominated!”

“You’ve got friends in high places, remember? Roman Montgomery, son of Keven Montgomery, one of our leading citizens, and an important member of the school board. And being drop-dead gorgeous doesn’t hurt either. Every girl you’ve met’s gonna vote for you.”

I just scoffed and looked down. I hate it when Mark comments on my looks. People have told me all my life how good-looking I am, but I don’t really like it. It’s not always nice having people panting over you all the time. Especially older women. That stuff’s weird, dude.

I shook my head. “Well, if you’re my friend, you better not vote for me! That would be so awkward! Half the people in the school don’t even know me yet. If I get up there with their most popular girl, everyone’s gonna go ‘who’s this guy?’”

“Believe me, when they get a look at you… and hear your name,” he adds, before I can punch him, “they won’t wonder why you won.”

“You don’t really think I’ll win, do you?” I asked him.

“I bet you will,” he says. “You’ve got half the school board and half the school on your side, I’d say. You’ve at least got a 50/50 chance. The reds took it last year, so it should be our turn this time.”

“How did I not hear about this before?”

Mark smirked. “I’ve been doing my best to keep you from finding out.”

“Uh, why?”

“Because I knew you’d try to talk your dad out of it if you knew. It’s too late to back out now.”

I just shook my head again, but Mark laughed this time. “Hey, lighten up, dude! It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

“I just don’t like the idea of standing up there and having everyone stare at me.”

“Why not,” he said. “They do anyway.”

This time I really did almost punch him, but he ducked under my arm and took off. “Come on!” he called back. “We’ll be late for class!”

All I can say is I better not win. You don’t enroll in a school two weeks before homecoming and become the king. You just don’t. Even if your father does rule half the town. I’m starting to wish I’d stayed at boarding school upstate. It was so much easier there, away from my father and his territory. I never would have come back if it weren’t for my grandma. I was always her favorite when I was little, and now that she’s not doing well, she wanted me here with her. I’m glad to do it, too, but it’s gonna be hard being Keven Montgomery’s son again, and I know I’ll miss all my friends.

There is that girl, though. I’m not sure yet if she’s a pro or a con of coming back here. But I have a feeling today might have just become the most important day of my life.

Judy

Dear Diary,

I don’t know where to start. I guess I’d better backtrack to right before I left home for the dance. I live really close to school, so I went back home to get dressed. It was about half an hour before the dance…

I spin around in front of my full-length mirror, watching the layers of pink taffeta swirl around me. I love this dress. The color, the style, everything about it is just me. I wish we could wear long dresses for homecoming, but this is the next best thing. I feel like a princess, like a pink Cinderella, going to the ball to meet her prince. That boy’s face rises in my mind, and a thrill of warmth rushes down my arms. I shake my head, trying to shake the image away. I’m just admiring the dress again when I hear a knock and the door swings open a little.

My mom’s head peeks around the side. “Anybody home?”

I smile. “Hi, Mom. What do you think?”

She smiles, coming into the room. “You look beautiful, sweetie! My little princess!”

I laugh, starting to spin around again, but suddenly notice she’s holding her hands behind her back. I smile. “Mom, what do you have?”

She laughs. “Well, if you’ll hold still for a second, I’ll show you.”

“Is there something going on in here without me?” Another knock sounds at the door and my dad walks in.

“How do I look, Dad?” I spin around again.

“Beautiful, sweetheart! Just perfect! Such a lovely, old-fashioned dress! Now, if that stupid board would only listen to me….”

“Daniel!” Mom chides. “Not now. You promised.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry, Marian. I forgot.”

I clear my throat pointedly and nod my head toward Mom’s hands, still concealed behind her. “Oh, yes,” she says. “I was just getting to that. Since this is your final high school homecoming, we have something special for you for tonight.”

She holds out a wide, rectangular black velvet box. “Oh my gosh! Really, Mom?”

She nods excitedly. I take the box from her and slowly open it, revealing a gorgeous, chandelier-like necklace of pink and clear crystals. I gasp. “Oh! Oh, it’s so beautiful! Thank you so much!” I throw my arms around her excitedly and she laughs.

“Woah! You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Dad!” I pull away from her and grab him. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, honey. I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it!” I let go of him so I can look at the necklace again. “I love it! It’s so beautiful!” I turn to Mom. “Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course, honey,” she says. I bend down a little in front of the mirror as she pulls the necklace out carefully and puts it around my neck. I can’t help gasping again.

“Oh, it’s perfect! Look how it matches the neckline!”

Mom finishes clasping it and looks at my reflection with me, squeezing my shoulder gently. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mom, Dad.” I hug them both again.

After a moment, Dad clears his throat. “Come on, now. If we don’t get started, we’ll miss the dance altogether! They can’t have homecoming without the queen!”

“Oh, Dad,” I say, embarrassed. “Don’t say that. You might jinx me!”

“I doubt it,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

I pause. “Dad? You wouldn’t have done a little something to make me the queen, would you have?”

He turns toward me, his expression suddenly very serious. “Judy! Are you suggesting that I would tamper with ballots! Even for a high school contest?!”

The smile melts off my face. “N… no, Dad. Of course not. It was just a joke.”

“Let me remind you, Judy, that tampering with votes is not something to be joked about.”

“I… I know, Dad. I’m sorry.”

He smiles. “Well, it’s alright. I forget how young you are, sometimes. Let’s get going.”

I grab my bag and jacket off the dressing table as they head out the door and exhale slowly. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut around my dad? It’s not like I’ve been living with him for eighteen years or something!

The dance is just as wild and overwhelming as I expected. It always is, but I sometimes forget during the month in between what sensory overload these things are. Every time I step in the door at one of these dances, I almost wish I’d stayed home. Ah, well, the life of a conservative introvert! I’m just setting my coat down in the cloakroom when,

“Judy! Oh my gosh! That fit is gorgeous!” I spin around and see my best friend, Nora. Our mothers were best friends growing up, and they started the two of us having playdates before we were even old enough to play! Or walk, or talk, or basically do anything but lie in our cribs and coo at each other. At any rate, it worked, and we’ve been inseparable all our lives. She’s six months older but seems a lot more than that, so she’s always kind of looked after me. I know it makes Mom feel much better about my being at school alone all those hours, knowing Nora is there to keep an eye on me. Tonight, she’s looking beautiful in her sparkly blue tutu dress.

“Hi, Nora! You look so beautiful! We’re pink and blue Cinderellas tonight!”

She hugs me and laughs. “I wish. I really should’ve put a belt or something on this. Not gonna lie, I look more like a blue pumpkin then anything else.”

“Oh, come on, Nora. You know that’s not true. You couldn’t look like a pumpkin if you tried!”

“Well, I sure look like I’m trying tonight,” she replies, looking in the mirror. “Unlike you, Homecoming Queen! You’re looking snatched!”

“Oh, stop! I’m so nervous already! I can’t decide if I’m hoping I’ll win or praying desperately that I won’t! I really don’t think I want to get up there in front of everyone.”

“Why not? You’ve got the dress, the hair, and the personality. There’s sure nobody else here who should be up there more than you!”

“But we took it last year. It really is the blues turn.”

She looks at me in shock. “Are you implying that there is something unethical in the voting system?”

I laugh nervously. “Oh, please, don’t even say that. I made the mistake of joking to my dad about that earlier tonight, and he nearly bit my head off.”

“Yikes! Your dad can be pretty intense sometimes.”

“Yeah, he can, but I should’ve known not to say something like that to him. I forget I’m not talking to you sometimes.”

She laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t say the voting is rigged exactly, but I do think someone has to give ‘final approval’ shall we say before it’s announced. I mean, how else would it always manage to be a boy and girl from the same side. You can’t tell me that’s just a happy coincidence every single year.”

I shrug. “Well, I wouldn’t know, as long as you don’t say anything about it to Dad.”

“I’ll remember that,” she says, laughing again. “By the way, where are your mom and dad?”

“Oh, who knows? They left me at the door and took off on some mysterious mission or other. They’ve probably got something special they’re cooking up for later during the dance. The board does like to give us little surprises, you know.”

“Oh, yes, I do. Maybe they’ve got something special planned for the Homecoming Queen.” I choose to ignore that remark, so she just chuckles a little as we head toward the ballroom. It’s not a basketball court or gym, mind you. We have an actual ballroom! How about that? “So, where’s your date?”

I look at her questioningly. “My what?”

“Your date. You know,” she whistles the first few bars of the national anthem and poses with her feet spread apart and her fists planted on her hips, “Paul Conte, national hero!” I shake my head, and she laughs. “I would have finished by waving a tiny American flag, but I haven’t got one with me.”

“It was an accurate portrayal anyway,” I say. “I asked him to meet me here. He was at a meeting with his dad, and it didn’t seem worth it for him to pick me up. I mean, I only live about five minutes away, after all.”

“So, is he here?”

“I guess he probably is.”

She snickers. “You know, you could at least pretend to be happy about it.”

“You try dating ‘the right person’ your parents picked out for you and see how you like it!”

She sighs. “The joys of being an unpopular single girl!”

“You’re not unpopular, Nora! You’re much more popular than I am. The only reason I have any friends at all is because of my parents and their position in the community. Everyone’s afraid to ignore me! If I were just anyone, you wouldn’t be able to tell me apart from the wallpaper for how popular I’d be!”

She snorts. “I would hardly say that.”

“Well, it’s true! Now, you, on the other hand, just fit into groups better. You know the right things to say and the right things to do, and you can just join friend groups more naturally!”

“Well, you’ll notice that you have a date to this dance, and I don’t. Even if it was arranged by your parents, someone still asked you.”

“I could argue with that,” I say. “But I’m not going to, because we’re about to go in there, and we won’t be able to hear ourselves think anymore!”

“You’re right about that! Come on! Let’s go find your Prince Charming!”

I roll my eyes, but she laughs and plunges into the crowd, dragging me with her.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing on the side of the dance floor alone, very happily watching Nora dance. She wanted to stay with me until we found Paul, but I insisted she accept when Jonas asked her to dance. After all the things she said about herself beforehand, it was obvious her confidence needed a boost. Besides, I put in my request for the evening, and I’m happy to just wait to hear it. There’s always a very good chance that he’ll make sure Miss Capron gets what she wants. Not that I’m demanding or anything, but I think people assume I will be because of my family’s position. I left my phone with my bag, but it wouldn’t have done any good to text him anyway. He’s obviously still in the meeting, and he’ll be dead to the rest of the world until he gets out. I know he’ll be here when he can.

Just as I’m thinking I really wish someone would ask me to dance, a voice shouts in my ear,

“THERE YOU ARE!” I whirl around and see Paul standing next to me.

I release the breath he scared into me and shake my head. “PLEASE, DON’T SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT!” I yell over the music.

He shakes his head. “SORRY I’M LATE! THE MEETING WAS GOING ON FOREVER, AND I DIDN’T THINK I SHOULD LEAVE UNTIL IT WAS OVER.”

I just nod and smile, resisting the urge to rub my ear. “IT’S OKAY,” I yell back. Then, we stand there for a little while as he nods along to the music. Eventually, I sigh and yell, “SO, YOU WANNA DANCE?”

“WHAT?” he yells back.

“I SAID DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?”

“OH, SURE! IF YOU WANT TO.”

I barely keep from shaking my head as we squeeze onto the crowded dance floor and start moving to the music. I don’t really know what to do with myself, since this is hardly the kind of place to show off my ballroom skills, so I just hop around a little like always. I’ll never understand modern dancing. What’s the point of dancing if you’re not going to touch each other? The whole idea of dancing is to have your arms around each other, isn’t it? If they’ll at least play something slow, we could take a crack at some of the steps I’ve tried to teach him over the years. Though, I must admit, I don’t really want Paul to put his arms around me.

About an hour later, I finally get a chance to sit down, out of breath but enjoying myself. The next song that comes on is at least a little quieter than the others, and I feel a little relief from the dull headache I’m developing. I wonder vaguely what time it is. Maybe I should have brought my phone in. It feels like it’s been about two hours since I got here, but it might be much less than that. At any rate, it should be getting close to time for the announcement. I can feel my heart starting to race. What if I do win? No matter how much I deny it, I want it more than anything. I’m so nervous and excited it’s even made me forget that boy for a few minutes. Even as the thought enters my head, I want to kick myself. Now, I’ve gone and thought about him again! Funny thing about the mind; the minute it enters your head that you’ve managed not to think about something, you’ve thought about it.

The system here is a little odd, but then, what isn’t odd about my school, right? Instead of the winners’ names being announce over the loudspeaker, someone gets up on the stage, takes the mic, and asks the winners to come up. The winners haven’t been informed, but a friend of each has been told just beforehand, and said friend drags them up on the stage. I have no clue why they do it this way, and I’ve always thought it was a stupid way to go about things. It’s probably a weird compromise the schoolboard came up with when the warring factions couldn’t agree on the best way to do it. Come to think of it, I’ve never thought to ask my dad why they do it that way. I guess it doesn’t really matter, but it's resulted in some awkward moments when the king and queen haven’t really met before and don’t even know each other’s names.

I snap out of my thoughts as the song comes to an end and everyone claps. Suddenly, a spotlight goes on the stage, and the applause gets louder, accented by screams and cheers. Our class president, Garrett, runs up on the stage with a card in his hand. I jump up and join the crowd crushing in closer to the stage. This is it! Garrett holds up his hands to ask everyone to be quiet, as the musicians make a bit of racket behind him leaving the stage for the break.

“Quiet down, everybody!” Garrett calls through the mic. “Come on, quiet down!” Eventually, the crowd quiets down enough for him to be heard well and he flashes us his best class president smile. “I know you’ve all been waiting for this! IT’S TIME TO CROWN OUR HOMECOMING KING AND QUEEN!!” Everyone cheers and screams more. He holds up his hands again. “WILL OUR NEW KING AND QUEEN COME UP TO THE STAGE, PLEASE!!”

My hands are clasped together so tightly my knuckles are turning white. I’m bouncing up and down on my toes. I think I’ve been holding this breath for the last two minutes. Suddenly, I feel someone pushing me from behind. It’s Nora. She grabs me around my shoulders and starts guiding me up toward the stage. I barely even look at her. I’m in too much shock. It’s really happening! I can’t believe it! Gradually, the crowd sees us coming through and parts to either side. It feels at the same time like this is the longest walk I’ve ever taken and like it happens in the space of a second. The next thing I know, I’m walking up on the stage and looking down at the screaming, cheering crowd. I don’t know what to do. I can feel my eyes welling up. Nora is standing beside me, clapping. There are tears streaming down her face.

Everything is starting to melt into a blur, when someone is suddenly pushed, kind of unwillingly it seems, onto the stage next to me. Finally snapping out of my daze, I turn toward the other lucky winner. Our eyes lock. Everything freezes. It’s him.