Marci is shy about being in a dress.

“You look great,” I say.

“I know,” she replies.

“Why do you look so shy?” I ask.

“Some kid already asked me why I’m not wearing a suit,” she says.

I look at her like I don’t know what she means.

“People think weird stuff about feminists. It’s so unnecessary. Like—my dad told me that if I’m a feminist, I won’t get any doors opened for me or any flowers from my future husband or whatever. He said that boys won’t kiss me because I’m a feminist.”

“Feminists want equal rights, fair pay, and stuff like that,” I say. “Right? I mean—what does that have to do with opening doors?”

“Exactly nothing. It makes no sense. People think that because I talk about equal rights, I want to be a man.”

“That’s a totally different thing,” I say. “Like—a totally different thing!”

“I know. But it’s what people think.”

We stand outside the gym doors, and other kids walk by us to get in and start dancing or whatever people do at a dance.

I want to ask Marci if she’ll hold my hand but my hands are so sweaty, I can’t. Instead, I open my mouth and weird words come out.

“You know, I think you’re pretty. And really smart,” I say.

“I think you’re the smartest and coolest person I know. And you’re really cute,” she responds, smiling.

I’m grinning so hard I can’t keep my teeth in.

Denis shows up wearing a pair of suit pants made into shorts. Marci and I look at the shorts and smile.

“Punk rock,” he says. “Have you seen Hoa?”

We both shake our heads.

“Go inside,” he tells us. “We’ll be in when she gets here.”

Marci and I go in and get back to smiling at each other.

She says, “I really want to have fun tonight. Like—real fun.” And right when she says that, Aaron James shows up and puts his arms around both of us. He smells like salami and lime deodorant.

“I made a bunch of requests for slow songs so you lovebirds can kiss and stuff,” he says. Then he laughs and walks over to a crowd of boys who have no dates.

“I still can’t tell if he really thinks the Earth is flat or not,” Marci says. “But I don’t really care, either.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Wanna dance?”

We go to the gym floor, which isn’t as full as I’d like it to be.

Marci says, “I wish they played punk rock.”

“Me too!” I say, and start dancing as if the pop song they’re playing is actually punk rock.

She starts, too. And soon we’re just bouncing around to songs we both don’t know the words to. It’s fun. I’m sweating and I don’t even care. After a while, I notice Marci is sweating and she doesn’t care, either.

The kids-with-no-dates are all out on the dance floor, doing some kind of boys-in-a-circle dance, and then “Rock Lobster” comes on and only a few people know to drop to the floor and do the whole lobster thing, and Marci and I are doing it and then the kids-with-no-dates do it, too, and it’s not like everything is perfect now, but it’s better.

Everything is better now.

Until I remember Denis.

When “Rock Lobster” is over, I look around for Hoa and she’s not here, either. I tell Marci. She looks around, too, and then says, “Let’s go find them.” She takes my hand and we walk out of the gym.

Denis and Hoa are definitely not in the school building. We look everywhere twice. Mr. Singer is on door duty and he says, “Are your parents here to pick you up?”

“No,” I say. “We just need to go out to find a friend.”

“Once you go out, you can’t come back in,” he says.

Marci says, “That’s a weird rule. We’re hot. I’m sweating. I just want to get some air.”

“Yeah,” I say.

He makes a gesture like he doesn’t want to get caught. “Okay—but stay where I can see you.”

We go out. Marci says, “I’ll stay here and cool off. You go find them.”

I run all the way around the school building. I do my secret call for Denis—like a red-tailed hawk—and there’s no answer. I don’t have a phone, so I can’t call him. But I’m worried. He was all dressed and ready and seemed excited to come in.

When I get back to Marci, I say, “I couldn’t find either Denis or Hoa.”

“We should go to Denis’s house,” she says. “But I have to go home and change out of this dress first.”

She opens the school door and tells Mr. Singer we’re walking home. He seems surprised but distracted and waves us off.