Oh, she knew it was far-fetched. Because really—whether it was due to Mr. Worthington’s yearly guy talk or something else, neither of those boys seemed to be terribly interested in dating right now anyway. She doubted that the efforts of the DG were really going to change that. Still, it could be fun to try.
Studying the pictures on Harris’s photo page, she wanted to make a comment on one of them. She’d never done this before, not with Harris anyway, but since she was on a mission for Devon’s sake, she decided to throw caution to the wind. She went through all the photos and finally decided on a shot of both Harris and Jason together. Wearing only their swim trunks, suntans, and big grins, they appeared to be on a small boat and were holding up a strange-looking fish with a gigantic mouth.
“Pretty hot guys,” she typed into the comment slot, “but not nearly as hot as that sea creature they’re holding.” She giggled as she hit Send. Okay, let the conversation begin.
A
bby knew she was lucky. Okay, she was
blessed
—at least that’s what her parents would say. They were always quick to remind her that although it wasn’t always easy being black in a predominantly white school, she had a lot to be grateful for. For one thing, her parents were still happily married after more than twenty years now. Besides that, they both had solid careers—her dad was the dean at the local Christian college, and her mom taught sociology there. They attended church fairly regularly, and compared to some of Abby’s friends’ lives, her life was considered “stable” and “normal.”
Even so, it wasn’t always easy being an only child. Or being one of the few ethnic minority kids at Northwood. But Abby knew better than to complain to her parents about such things. They would only launch into a sad story about how it was when they were growing up. Worse yet, they’d go into a
P
s speech—reminding her of how her grandparents
put up with prejudice and persecution and participated in peace marches and protests. She’d heard it a hundred times. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate black history. She absolutely did. But sometimes she just wanted to be like everyone else. Was that too much to ask?
To be fair, it was what her parents wanted too. At least they wanted her to be just like them. In their minds there was no higher aspiration. For the most part, Abby didn’t disagree, but sometimes it seemed the only thing they talked about was her future: what college she would attend, what kind of scholarships to apply for, how she would contribute to society as an adult. Sometimes they were so focused on how her life was going to be someday that it seemed like they lost complete sight of the here and now.
For instance, as they were driving home from Aunt Rebecca’s wedding tonight and she was reading texts from Bryn about their new club and how things were moving along, she felt left out of the fun—like life once again was passing her by. She wanted to be there with them to see Emma’s makeover, and she wanted to start making some progress on the Dating Games plan. But at the same time, she was worried. What if her parents disapproved of the DG?
She’d never even broached the subject of dating with them before. Not because she’d been avoiding the topic, but more because it had never come up. She’d never been asked out before, and in all honesty, it seemed unlikely she’d be asked out now. Yet considering the progress Bryn seemed to be making, she felt slightly hopeful. But what if she got asked out and her parents said no?
As the car zipped down the interstate, she wondered if this might be the perfect time to introduce a new topic of
conversation with her parents: dating and why they should let her do it. However, she knew timing was everything. Was this really the right time? She ran the pros and cons around in her mind, finally deciding that she had a captive audience. Not only were they stuck in the front seat for two more hours, but they were worn out from the past two days of wedding festivities.
“I want to talk to you about something,” she began carefully.
“What?” Mom asked with not much interest.
“I’ve been thinking about something.” She paused, trying to think of the right words. She’d been in debate club for a year now. She considered herself to be good at persuasive talking. “I’d like to get your opinion on it.”
“What kind of something?” Dad sounded slightly suspicious, but he kept his gaze straight ahead, obviously focusing on the freeway traffic—a trail of red taillights for as far as she could see.
Mom turned around in the seat to peer curiously at her. “What are you thinking about, honey?”
“Well, it’s occurred to me that I’ll be seventeen in November, and I’ve never been on a real date.”
Dad laughed, then answered in a sing-song way, “And that’s the way, uh-huh-uh-huh, I like it. Uh-huh-uh-huh.”
“Very funny.” Abby rolled her eyes. “Anyway, some of my friends have been talking about going to the homecoming dance, and I thought maybe I’d like to go too.”
“That’s a nice idea.” Mom nodded with an approving expression. “Is there a particular boy you think is going to ask you?”
“Wait a minute.” Dad glanced at Mom, then back at the
road. “Are you saying she can go? Just like that? We don’t even know this boy. And from what I’ve heard, high school dances are getting way out of hand these days.”
“Dad,” Abby said in exasperation. “This is Northwood Academy we’re talking about. Nothing gets out of hand there.”
“Well, you never know. For instance, your mom and I work at what is supposedly a good Christian college, and yet some of the things that have happened there—well, don’t get me going.”
“That’s life, Bruce. Just because a few college kids make bad choices doesn’t mean Abby is going to. Look how responsible she’s been. And she keeps her grades up. I really don’t see anything wrong with her going to a dance.” Mom peered at Abby. “You mentioned your friends are going. Which ones?”
“And who’s the boy?” Dad demanded.
“It’s not for sure.” Abby wished she hadn’t started this conversation.
“Who is he?” Dad asked. “Is there some reason you don’t want us to know his name?”
“Only because he hasn’t even asked me,” she said in frustration. “But if you must know, his name is Kent Renner. He’s a really nice guy. He’s a good musician, he’s academic, and he plays basketball and soccer too.”
“He sounds well-rounded and interesting,” Mom said.
“Sure, he
sounds
great,” Dad said doubtfully, “but that’s from her perspective. We don’t even know him.”
“Will it be a group date?” Mom asked.
Abby wasn’t really sure about the group date thing, but because she seemed to have Mom’s support, she decided to
just go with it. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be a group date,” she said quickly. “Bryn and Cassidy and Emma would go too.”
“I like those girls.” Mom nodded.
“And a new girl too.”
“Who’s that?” Dad asked, and again the suspicion crept into his voice. Abby knew it was because he loved her and because he had only one daughter to focus on. Just one more reason she wished she wasn’t an only child.
“Her name’s Devon Fremont,” she told them. “She’s been friends with Emma since they were babies. She just transferred to Northwood because her mom thought the public schools were losing their academic edge.”
“That and a few other things too,” Dad said. “From what I hear, anyway.”
“Is Devon a nice girl?” Mom asked. It was funny how oblivious parents could be when they asked questions like that. How did they expect their kids to answer?
“Yeah. She’s really nice. We’ve been trying to make her feel at home at Northwood. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to switch schools like that.”
“That’s so kind of you.” Mom smiled.
“So you guys are cool with me dating, then?” Abby asked hopefully. This was going even better than she had expected.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dad said a bit sharply.
“Oh, Bruce.” Mom sighed. “We have to let her grow up someday. Like she said, she’s almost seventeen. Remember what you were doing at her age?”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. That’s precisely why I’d prefer she postpone dating for a while.”
“Why?” Abby asked.
“Because I remember it well. I know what boys are like
at that age.
Seventeen
.” He grimly shook his head. “Their testosterone is running rampant, and they’re after one thing and one thing only.”
Mom giggled. “Bruce, that’s so judgmental.”
“So, Dad, do you mean that’s what you were like when you were seventeen?” Abby asked.
Dad cleared his throat. “Well, I, uh . . . no.”
“Tell the truth,” Mom urged.
“Well, sure, I had hormones like any other normal seventeen-year-old boy. But I also knew how to keep them under control. My parents taught me to respect girls.” He chuckled. “My mama would’ve taken a belt to me if I didn’t.”
“Don’t you think there are still some nice boys out there?” Mom said to him. “And don’t you think we’ve raised our daughter to be aware of what makes for a nice boy . . . and how to recognize the other kind and go the best direction?”
Dad rubbed his chin. “Well, I’d like to think so. I certainly hope so.”
Abby knew this was her chance. “You’ve always set a great example, Dad. I mean, I see how well you treat Mom and other women. Why would I settle for a guy who wasn’t at least trying for those standards? You’ve set the bar pretty high, but at least it’s something to aim for.”
“Thank you, Abigail. I guess it’s a little unfair to assume that all seventeen-year-old boys are after one thing only.” Dad sighed. “I’m sure there must be some good young men out there. Especially at Northwood.”
“Are you saying it’s okay for me to date?”
“I suppose I’m opening up to the idea. Maybe we can see how it goes with one date—as long as it’s a group date—and take it from there.”
Abby was tempted to argue this point but realized that might ruin everything. “Sure, I think that would work.”
“This is so exciting,” Mom said with real enthusiasm. “Your first formal dance. Do you know what you want to wear yet?”
“Not really.”
“How far out is the dance?”
“Three weeks.”
“Oh, that gives us some time. But we should start shopping soon.”
“Uh-huh . . .” Abby wasn’t so sure she wanted to shop for her dress with her mom, but after making this much progress on the whole dating thing, and since Mom had been so solidly in her court, she didn’t want to rock the boat. Still, the idea of Mom picking out her dress was a little unsettling. It wasn’t that Mom had bad taste—for her age she dressed pretty fashionably—but Mom had picked out the dress Abby had been forced to wear to Rebecca’s wedding, and although Abby wasn’t actually in the wedding party, Mom had wanted to be sure she’d fit in for the photos. But Abby would never, never wear that awful pink ruffled dress again. Even now it was wadded into a ball and stuffed into her suitcase.
As Mom continued talking about dresses and corsages and dinners and all sorts of dance-related things, Abby tried to act like she was listening while she was texting Bryn, assuring her that everything was moving along smoothly on her end. This was so exciting!
Abby leaned back against the seat and sighed happily. She was thankful that the focus on dating and jerky guys had distracted her dad from asking more specifically about the guy she had in mind. Oh, she had an answer ready for him,
but it was a relief not to be forced to use it. Not because it was a lie, because it wasn’t. Abby might be comfortable using various tactics to work her parents—who didn’t?—but she refused to flat-out lie to them.
She imagined how cool it was going to be to walk into the dance next to Kent Renner. She had been seriously crushing on the tall basketball player for more than a year now, ever since he transferred to their school. Of course, she’d known him before he came to Northwood. They’d gone to the same church for years, until her family had switched churches. After that, she’d naturally lost track of him.
She’d been thrilled to see him again when he’d started school at Northwood last year, and equally thrilled that he recognized her. It seemed they even had something of a friendship. Okay,
friendship
might be a stretch, or just her imagination. But at least Kent knew her name and spoke to her occasionally. She’d had several classes with him and was comfortable saying “Hey” to him now and then. Not too obsessively, since she didn’t want to scare him off. As far as she could tell, Kent had never had a girlfriend. At least not since coming to Northwood. He was a senior, so this would be his last year in high school . . . his last homecoming dance . . . that alone should be reason enough to make him consider going. But how was she going to bring it up?
Then she remembered—that was what the DG was for. They were supposed to help each other. But at their meeting on Friday no one had offered to come to her assistance. Probably because Bryn had pointed out that Abby was already on good terms with Kent. That wasn’t really fair, though. Just because they were friends didn’t mean she could walk up and ask him to go to the dance. And if this club was
going to work the way Devon had described, she shouldn’t have to.
Abby considered her friends, wondering which one would be best to get the wheels rolling with Kent. Devon would probably say too much. Emma wouldn’t say enough. Cassidy . . . well, she might end up giving him a lecture on morals and ethics. Finally Abby decided that it would probably have to be Bryn since she was Abby’s best friend. Plus she knew Kent well enough to have a somewhat natural conversation with him.
With this in mind, she grabbed her phone again. Bryn had already texted her back, congratulating her on handling her parents. Abby texted again, asking Bryn to be the go-between with Kent. She even offered to help with Jason in exchange, if needed. However, as she hit Send, she doubted her assistance would be needed. Bryn was so pretty and smart and fun, Jason would probably leap at the chance to take her out. Especially since he wasn’t with Amanda now. Really, of all the girls, Bryn had it made. It was simply that she didn’t know it. For so many years Bryn had thought of herself as plain and ugly. Nothing could be further from the truth now. Not that Abby brought this up so much. Who wants their best friend to get a big head?
As she slipped her phone back into her bag, she thought about Kent some more. The first question her parents would want to ask her—but knowing them, they wouldn’t—would have to do with his ethnicity. When she told them (and she would have to) that he was white, they would act like this was no big deal. After all, they were educated and open-minded. But she would see behind their eyes and know that they didn’t completely approve.
At Aunt Rebecca’s wedding last night, she’d overheard Mom talking quietly to an aunt. “Hopefully, the third time’s the charm,” Aunt Betty had said regarding Rebecca’s third marriage. “Maybe this one’s going to last.”
“I hope so.” Mom had frowned at the newlywed couple as they attempted an awkward version of salsa dancing for the crowd. “I just wish her taste hadn’t gone so vanilla on us.”