* * *

  The next night he came over. It was after dinner. I was surprised that my mom had apple pie sliced and ready to serve. I guess they were going to make an effort to be nice. Then again, they were always good at giving the pretense that they were reasonable and nice. I was relieved but I didn’t let my guard down.

  The basic pleasantries were exchanged. The conversation revolved around the usual things: school, interests and our plan for the evening. Kraig reiterated my sentiment that it wasn’t a date, just two friends going to the dance together to hang out with everyone else. My dad did ask about his driving record, which was clean—no tickets. My mom insisted that I wasn’t left alone at the dance because ‘you never know what trouble she’d get into’. She made it sound like I was a mischievous little kid who sought out trouble. It was just like when Patrick came over to pick me up for the carnival. I knew what she meant, even though Kraig didn’t. He thought she was just teasing.

  Regardless, I had official confirmation from my parents that I could go. I was happy. Most of the crew didn’t have much of curfew for the dance, but I did. My parents set my curfew for 2:00am. That was fine, the dance was over at midnight and it would still give me time to hang out afterwards with everyone. I took what I could get. If I argued that my friends didn’t have a curfew, my parents would say ‘Fine. You don’t have one either. Because you won’t be going.’ I didn’t want that to happen.

 
Shirley Miranda's Novels