Spring Perfection Read Free Page A

of my hands get
sweatier than a pork chop wrapped in plastic on a porch every time I thought
about asking her? Why did it take me two days to get the courage to ask? And
why did my heart nearly stop when she did her cheek blowing out thing? And why
in the world was that simple habit of hers so adorable?
    While I stared at her with her cheeks puffed out, I knew she was
searching for that tingle in her stomach. She always looked for some feeling or
sign from La Cienega in order to know whether to do something or not. I sure
hoped La Cienega wasn't taking a nap or something and would send her the sign
she needed.
    Truth is , I wanted to feel that tingle
too. The last time I'd felt it was when we had kissed on the playground the
year before. We'd never tried anything else since. Reyna was so convinced I
liked Amanda and not her. I don't know why I never corrected her. Maybe this
would be my chance. Maybe I would get to kiss her again at the seventh grade
dance and if I felt that tingle again I would know. I would know for sure she
was the one.
    Instead of responding with a simple yes or no, Reyna said,
"Are you sure, Scottie?"
    "Yeah, I'm sure. I want to take you to the dance."
    She sighed and said, "Does your mother know?"
    My mother. Samantha Kincaid. She was a like gale force wind of hate and irrationality. The
only time I ever spoke to her was about sports. Even in the seventh grade I
knew not to give Sam too many details about my personal life. She would just
find a way to criticize me.
    "Yeah, sure, she knows," I lied. Of course my mother
didn't know. If she knew that I was contemplating going to a dance with a black
person, she'd probably pack me up and ship me off to some sort of ridiculous
and unnecessary sport camp until I changed my mind. She'd done it before. When
I told her I wanted to quit the track team for the baseball team, she sent me
to a sprinting camp in Oregon. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a
sprinting camp. Anyway, I didn't change my mind. And when she saw how fast I
could pitch, she's the one that cleared off a space in our trophy room for my
future baseball trophies.
    Reyna smiled and said, "Okay, let's go." It was the
happiest I'd ever seen her. She almost skipped off to her next class.
    But things didn't go as planned. The dance never happened.
    I remember getting Coach to help me rent a tuxedo. That was
something Sam would never agree to so I knew not to even ask. The most formal
piece of clothing she owned was a pair of running shoes that my little brother
Stu spilled glitter on.
    The night of the dance, I put on the suit and held Reyna's corsage
in my hand as I stared in the mirror. I looked like a complete dork. What other
seventh grade boy would wear a tuxedo? Most of the other boys didn't even have
real dates. They were just planning on showing up and hanging against the wall
for most of the night. I was making too big of a deal about this. Reyna would
think I was crazy.
    I quickly stripped, threw on a pair of khakis, a Carolina Panthers
jersey, and the tuxedo jacket. I stared at myself in the mirror again. I looked
pretty good if I do say so myself.
    Next it was time to get Sam to take me to school. Unfortunately, I
was only in the seventh grade. I was only thirteen which meant no wheels. Sam
still held a lot of power over my life. If I was sixteen and had my own car, I would
have just driven myself. I would have snuck out the window if I had to. But at
this age, I needed Sam's permission.
    "Can you give me a ride to school?" I asked Sam as she
sat on the couch watching a game on ESPN.
    "School? Why
do you want to go to school? It's Thursday night?" she asked without
taking her eyes off the television. She was watching Duke play and wanted to
make sure they lost. She hated Duke. They rejected her college application
because the fact that she could run four minute mile didn't outshine her
lackluster grades. Sixteen years later she was still holding a grudge.
    "There's a dance