The Cotton Queen Read Free Page A

feet and had blond hair that was too curly to be attractive. He kept it cut short and slicked down with Brylcreem. He had a great smile, though I can’t say for sure what was so great about it. His teeth weren’t any whiter than anyone else’s and he had a gap between the front two wide enough to whistle through. I hadn’t really thought about dating him, but when he asked me, well, I was pleased to go.
    It was a cold, frosty night. I was dressed in a sweater and rolled up dungarees. Aunt Maxine didn’t really approve of young ladies wearing slacks, but on a hayride, you couldn’t really wear anything else.
    On the way out into the country it was all carol singing and group laughter. I could have been alone or with anyone. But it was Tom who sat quietly beside me, enjoying the banter and occasionally offering a word or two of his own shy, clever wit.
    We stopped for hot chocolate at the Manigault’s farm. Tom put his hands around my waist to help me down. When we went inside, the other boys held the hands of their dates. Tom escorted me with four fingers at the small of my back. It made me feel so feminine and at the same time so fragile.
    All of us teenagers thought ourselves quite grown-up and sophisticated. But we played silly parlor games and giggled and ate gingerbread like kids.
    A brightly decorated sprig of mistletoe hung down from the door frame into the dining room. Several couples made a game of “accidentally” getting caught under it. Those trysts involved a lot of laughter.
    Tom made no attempt to steer me in that direction. I was both pleased and, I admit, a little disappointed. Aunt Maxine, as well as my girlfriends, had always made it clear that it was “fast” to kiss a boy on the first date. That should really be avoided. Still, I sort of wished that he would, at least, try. When Mr. Garmon, the Sunday School Superintendent and our driver, came in to announce that it was time to load up for the trip back to town, kids began hurriedly lining up in the hallway for a last chance at the risqué game. Tom led me outside. We were the first people back to the wagon.
    I sat there, trying to smile but feeling a little let down.
    Tom must have read my thoughts.
    “I’m not much for mistletoe,” he said.
    I nodded. “It’s silly and childish,” I told him, primly. “And we hardly know each other.”
    “I just...” He hesitated. “I just want the first time I kiss you to be because you want to kiss me, not us showing off for our friends.”
    “I do want to kiss you,” I blurted before I thought.
    Tom smiled. He leaned toward me, his hand on my jaw and our lips met. It was somehow perfect. His mouth was not too hard or too soft. He tasted like ginger and chocolate. I wasn’t afraid. I was excited.
    Other people began arriving and we pulled apart. But not far. We bundled up together under one blanket. His arm around me, holding me close. It felt wonderful.
    On the ride home several couples were openly necking. We didn’t do that, though we did steal a few more kisses.
    “I’ve liked you for a long time,” Tom admitted to me. “When you were in Queen’s Court in that pink dress. I thought, ‘she’s the prettiest one of those girls.’”
    “So you think I’m pretty?”
    “I know you are,” he answered. “But you’re smart and sweet, too. That’s the kind of girl I’d want for a girlfriend, if I was thinking to going steady or something.”
    “Are you thinking to going steady?”
    “I might.”
    He grinned at me then. Even in the moonlight I could see that gash of dimple in his right cheek. He had dimples on both sides, but his smile was slightly crooked and the right side showed up more distinctly.
    “I don’t think my uncle Warren likes the idea of going steady,” I told him.
    “Then maybe he shouldn’t do it,” Tom said.
    I giggled and he planted a playful little peck on my nose.
    From then on out, I was Tom Hoffman’s girl. I wouldn’t have anyone else.
    The night of the