IT HAD BEEN FOUR DAYS since Kevin had given me a ride home from the battlefield. The good thing about Kevin not being into texting was that I didn’t have to stare at my phone for hours on end, checking it 500 times a day, thinking that he might just possibly text me. (I only checked my phone 200 times a day, just in case he changed his mind).
Kevin had come up to me in between classes on Monday.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said.
“Have you thought about it?” he asked.
“Thought about what?” I answered, playing dumb. As if I hadn’t been thinking about it for days.
“About going to the dance thing. The cotillion. I know it’s a ways away. Maybe we could, you know, hang out before that. Do something together.”
“Like what? Please don’t tell me you want me to lose the hoop skirt, dress like a soldier and march beside you into battle?”
“You know,” Kevin said. “Girls really did that.”
“Did what?”
“Dressed as men and went off to fight in the Civil War.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Did any men dress in hoop skirts and stay behind to dance in cotillions?” I asked. Just then the bell rang and we hustled back to class.
“What are you doing?” Ashley asked on our walk home. She stopped, grabbed me my shoulders and shook me. “Are you crazy? Are you nuts? Are you totally and completely insane? The biggest moment of your life and you ask him if he’ll dress in a hoop skirt?”
“I didn’t ask him that!”
“Whatever! Enough of the stalling, Cyndie! He’s going to think you’re not into him. He’s going to think you’re a weirdo! For the love of Tom, just say yes!”
“I was trying to,” I pleaded.
“Don’t try, do!”
“We ran out of time!”
“Lead with the yes. Follow with the weird shit. You’re killing me here!”
•
Tuesday before lunch Kevin was waiting for me by my locker.
“Yes!” I said before he even had a chance to open his mouth. I had decided to take the goat by the horns and follow Ashley’s advice.
“Yes to what?” Kevin asked.
“Yes to whatever you’re asking me.”
“Ooh-la-la! To whatever?”
“Yes to the cotillion. As long as the hoop skirt stays on I’m good to go.”
“But I helped you out of it so nicely last time!” Kevin smiled that sweet smile.
I blushed.
“Promise to leave the peg leg at home?” he asked.
“I promise,” I said. “But what about what’s-her-name?”
“Who?”
“That girl. The one who’s always all over you. Sandra Lewis.”
Kevin shook his head and grimaced.
“You can’t be serious,” he said. “Have you ever seen her in a hoop skirt? Have you ever seen her swing a peg leg? Have you ever seen her resurrect me from the dead?”
“Come to think of it, no.”
“My point exactly. Anyway, the cotillion’s not for a few weeks. I’ll see you before then. And when I pick you up, I’ll be the one with the private’s hat on.”
“Good,” I said. “That way I won’t confuse you with my father.”
Once more the bell.
•
“You’re sure you said yes?” Ashley asked, holding my hand as we walked home from school.
“Absolutely positive.”
Ashley gave me a monster hug. Which felt so much better than the shakedown did the day before.
“Wow!” Ashley said.
“Double wow!”
“Our first Number Five. A real date. Can you believe it!”
Ashley put her arm around me.
“Next up, Marc Potvin,” I said.
Ashley sighed.
“You got an extra hoop skirt?” she asked.