Trauma of the high school genre

When I was in high school, people seemed to be members of one of three groups: those who always had a boy/girlfriend, those who dated someone different every single weekend or those (like me) who daydreamed about certain boys but spent most weekends hanging out with her best friend and wondering just how old she was going to be before she ever got kissed.

Eleventh grade was the first year that students could go to the prom without being invited by someone older. Since no prospects loomed on the horizon, I thought I would take matters into my own hands and ask someone to go with me! (The thought of doing that now makes me want to curl up in a ball in my bed and never come out). I mulled it over and decided to ask P, a nice guy with startingly large teeth who always wore Polo buttondowns to school. I looked him up in the phone book and wiped my sweaty hands on my bedspread. I could do this. I could! The phone rang once, twice and someone picked up. "Um, hi, can I speak to P, please?" I asked with the faintest hint of a nervous quiver in my voice. P came to the phone and I decided I was just going to do it. No small talk, no discussion of homework. Just going to do it. "P, this is Allison Lastname from English class and I waswonderingifmaybeyou'dliketogotothepromwithme?" I said in one giant breath. Silence. "Sorry, Allison, but I can't. I already asked C if she would go with me," he said. "Oh, okay!" I attempted to say brightly but the lump in my throat threatened to choke me. I just wanted to get off that phone. "Well, thanks anyway. Okay, bye!" and I got off the phone as quickly as I could. I took a few deep breaths, went in the bathroom and wiped away some tears.

For some UNKNOWN reason, I did not let that rejection shoot me down. Oh, no. I decided I wasn't done with getting a date to the prom. I would ask someone else! (I know. What the HECK was I thinking?) This time I decided to ask Pat, the son of the local Cadillac dealer whose parents were in a supper club with mine. I looked him up in the phone book and again, wiped my sweaty hands on my bedspread. This time, Pat answered the phone and I said, "Hi, this is Allison, Allison from Algebra class? and I was wondering if you wanted to go to the prom with me?" so fast that I'm sure he understood exactly none of it. Again, silence. My heart beat harder and harder. Was I about to be rejected again? "Uhh, I think I have a soccer match that weekend so I'll have to see. I'll tell you in class tomorrow." Looking back, I realize he was trying to figure out a way to get out of going to the prom with me but I heaved a sigh of relief and got off the phone. I was giddy at the thought of having a date to the prom! I was going to go to the prom! I flew downstairs and set the table without being asked and chattered away at the table about dinner and corsages and beaded dresses.

The next day when I got to Algebra class, Pat was already sitting in his seat behind mine. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye but he said nothing. Class went on and still, nothing. The teacher finished her lecture and gave us our assignment. I started my work and still, not a word. I started to get a little huffy. Was he EVER going to say anything? Did he not realize that I needed to start shopping if we were going to the prom? Finally, I ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook and wrote on it, "So, can you go?" I nervously worked a problem as I waited for his reply. I felt a poke on my shoulder and I casually looked back to see Pat holding the note out to me. I took it and smiled hesitantly at him but he looked down at his textbook and picked up his pencil. I unfolded the note as I waited to see the words I was sure were written on the crumpled paper. Inside was one word, "No."