8 - Samantha
All throughout spiritweek, guys have been asking girls to Homecoming. It’s nice to see all the creative ways they’ve come up with ranging from simply asking at a locker to holding up posters saying Will You Go to HoCo with Me?
Our yearbook will dedicate a whole page to Homecoming complete with Homecoming court, King and Queen, and of course, some of the awesome proposals our group will capture on camera. I happen to have caught a few good ones and I’ll blame being in the right place at the right time for catching Cyn’s.
After class Thursday, we just left our lockers when Knox comes rushing up in uniform. They have team photos today, but before he’s due in the gym, he stops us in the hall.
“What’s up, babe?” Cyn asks, taking out her lollipop first.
Knox, being the huge guy that he is, is even bigger with all his pads on. Uncharacteristically, he gets down on one knee. “Well, babe? We going?” And that’s as romantic as Knox is, but Cynthia loves it.
“About time you ask me,” she laughs and then sits on his thigh to kiss him.
He stands up quickly, but not before I snap a picture. Knox scoops her up over his shoulder and smacks her butt. “Yeah! Homecoming!”
Cynthia just lets out a throaty laugh while he carts her off toward the gym. She reaches to me as I walk behind, following them. “I’m coming.”
Cyn turns her head to ask Knox, “Where’s my brother? I haven’t seen him much today.”
Knox sets her down, looking down into her eyes. “Coach had him in the office.” He makes a face. “Probably ought to ride home with Sam. I’ll pick you up later.”
“No prob, babe.” She reaches up on her tip-toes to kiss him first and then turns toward me. “Catch me later, babe,” she hollers back over her shoulder.
“You bet I will,” Knox replies.
And somehow, I think they just had foreplay. One of the best things Cynthia’s mom ever did, was take us to the gynecologist for birth control. Not that I needed to worry about it, but as physical a relationship as Cyn has with Knox, I’d say it was a good idea.
“What?” She looks at me and puts her lollipop back in her mouth, smiling around the stick. “I like it when he tosses me around over his shoulder like that.”
“I can tell,” I laugh, fumbling in my purse for my keys. “Here, hold my camera bag a sec.”
“Sure, babe.”
I always have my keys in one certain pocket, but they’re not there. I’m not sure why, but right when I see they’re just tucked under my wallet, I hear a click and look up. “What are you doing?”
Cyn’s guilty face shows no remorse oddly enough. “Playing with your camera.” I frown and roll my eyes. “What? You need your picture taken too ya know.”
“Fishing keys out of my purse isn’t yearbook-worthy.” I shake my head and reach out for my camera bag. “It’s not even moment-remembering worthy.”
“You’re worthy, Sam.” Cyn takes her lollipop stick and shoves it in someone’s locker, laughing, and then turns back to me, serious. “You’re my bestie. You’re always worth it.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.” And as we make our way to my car, I don’t tell her that sometimes I don’t feel like I am worthy.
*
Hurricane High Schoolfinishes out Spirit Week with Thursday being Camouflage Day, and of course, School Spirit Day on Friday. From a photography point of view, these days are pretty straight forward. One day camouflage, the other day orange and black. Those are the choices. I will say though, school administrators allowed face paint on Friday so we could squeeze as much spirit out of everyone for the pep rally. Out of those who participated, the girls are daintier with ‘Go Team’ or ‘Go Hurricanes’ on their cheek, while the guys are a different story. They look like Braveheart only with orange and black on their faces instead of blue. It’s a sight to behold and most definitely helps get everyone pumped up.
After school, Cynthia and I get ready to go to the game. I’m thankful to be feeling fairly decent today and am wishing it to hold out the entire evening. She’s riding with me to the game and then Homecoming afterward, but from there she’ll ride home with Knox. Since he’s also on the team with Phillip, they have to be at the game early.
This year, the committee put it to a student vote and it was decided to have the dance directly after the game. It’s a little unconventional, but there’s no steadfast rule saying when to have it. Plus, our bowling team has a tournament tomorrow afternoon, two hours away. We didn’t want them to miss it. So tonight, after football, Hurricane High will hold its Homecoming dance.
When the highly anticipated game comes to an end, I take a photo of the scoreboard with the final score of Harbine Hurricanes 21, Grandville Gators 13. A Hurricane victory! I also took several photographs of the Homecoming court, halftime, the band, cheerleaders, football players and a few shameless single shots of one football player in particular. I can’t help it. I’m blaming it on sighting in my zoom lens.
Our gymnasium has had a major face lift since this afternoon’s pep rally. The dance committee brought in straw bales and pots of mums in various fall colors to trim the perimeter of our dance floor. At the far end, there are a few tables set up for refreshments, and orange lights illuminate the ceiling. It’s getting close to Halloween, so I imagine the orange twinkle lights are easy to find. With orange being one of school colors, they make a nice accent and it works well.
Everyone appears to be having a good time. All the music choices made by the DJ seem to meet our approval and, judging from the facial expressions caught in my lens, most of the students and faculty are in high spirits. Who wouldn’t be after winning the Homecoming game?
Cynthia and I are content dancing together as “Thrift Shop” throws the beats, curling our hips, going staccato with our shoulders, grooving together until Cyn notices Knox coming our way. The music switches over to Usher as more football players arrive. Then the song changes to something slower.
I tell Cyn to go have fun and find myself on the sidelines again. My convincing smile assures her that I mean what I said. It’s easy for me to hide in the shadows. Being an unnoticed wallflower is one of my specialties. Besides, it’s just in time for the two of them to have a slow dance because the DJ begins playing “Everything I Do, I Do It for You,” by Bryan Adams. One of Cyn’s favorite movies of all time is Robin Hood. Every time she watches it, she cries. I’m glad that Knox arrived when he did. Secretly, I wonder if he asked the DJ ahead of time to play Cyn’s favorite song, but then again, I’m not sure Knox is that smooth.
As I watch them take the dance floor, I scan the crowd checking for any other moments I should capture, clicking pictures of other couples all around the gym. Plenty of couples are holding each other, swaying to the song. I capture the Homecoming Queen and King in a nice pose and click my camera a few more times, switching to my digital camera for some as well.
That’s when I see him. Phillip is here, casually walking around the gym as if searching. Classmates are giving him high fives and congratulating him on our win. It must be a coincidence that he’s heading my direction, sifting through the sea of students. Suddenly, I have butterflies in my stomach. He looks directly at me and smiles. Make no mistake, he smiled, and it was meant for me.
“Hi Samantha.”
“Hi.” I bite my lower lip.
“What are you doing hiding over here?” he smiles and then winks.
I duck my head, shyly and hold up my camera. “Taking the pictures. What else?”
“Will you put the camera down for a minute?” he asks. “Let someone else capture the moment while you enjoy one of your own.”
Amazed by his words, I slowly unwrap my camera strap from my neck and place it back in its case. Phillip takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor where the Bryan Adams song is still playing. He places a hand around my waist and holds my other hand against his chest, clasped inside his. We sway side to side while I breathe in his cologne, enjoying every subtlety I pick up.
We enjoy several bars of the song before I can’t take it anymore. “I have a question.”
“You can ask me anything you want.” Phillip is reassuring, and yet I can still sense the butterflies in my belly bouncing around. They feel as if they are trying to take flight and are enraged with claustrophobia. Not a good mix.
“We began a conversation the other day.”
“Remind me,” he toys, as we drift with the music.
Several girls stare from the sideline, mouths gaping at us, but I just focus on Phillip. “When we were in the hardware store, you mumbled something. I wasn’t sure I heard you right.” He turns me gently on the dance floor, matching the time of the melody.
“What do you think I said?” The contours of his face remain perfect. His mouth allows his lips to trace a slight smile, and I desperately wonder what he is thinking.
“When I made a comment about you acting...you said something under your breath about not sure if you were acting. Do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Can you please translate?” My eyes are begging for answers. I watch, intently, every blink and slight movement his face makes.
He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “I played along at first like you said to when you flew around the corner. But then I realized it felt nice having my arms around you, just as I thought it might be. Just like it is now.” He pauses, allowing his smile to grow slightly. “Then we saw that guy again and I had the opportunity to really have my arms around you, but that time it felt right. Natural, not forced.” He hesitates for reaction. “I know it wasn’t on purpose, but I’m glad it happened.” He leans down to my ear and whispers. “I sort of have a thing for you.” Goosebumps erupt on my skin when I feel his breath on my ear before he pulls back. “So maybe that’s why I admitted that I didn’t have to act.”
And there it is. His explanation. The answer I was hoping for. But silly me tries to lighten the moment with a joke.
“I said no pity,” I quickly remind him. I lightly slap his arm poking fun, but he blankly stares back, and my expression hardens. “You don’t have to say you like me.” I shake my head in fun but I must have insulted him because he stops dancing and stands quietly in the dim lit gymnasium staring back at me.
“I didn’t just say it, Samantha. I mean it.”
For a brief moment, I’m bewildered. Cynthia’s knock-out brother just admitted he likes me. It’s difficult to comprehend that the quarterback of our football team likes me. I’m not a cheerleader or Homecoming Queen. I’m his sister’s best friend, who he’s known for a long time. His neighbor. Don’t get me wrong...he is good looking and has many fine qualities, but I just can’t get past the shock. I never dreamed he could like me back. This is the kind of thing I watch in the movies.
“How long have you felt this way?” I quiz him trying to process the truth that makes me begin to smile. My happiness shifts to nervousness though, upsetting the scales of balance in my screwed-up life.
“A while.” His eyes flicker from my face to the crowd around us and back to me. He starts dancing again, slowly guiding me on the dance floor to the melody of the song.
“Why have you never said anything? Ever?”
“I meant to ask you to Homecoming, I wanted to, but I second-guessed myself. And then, I was prepared to settle for proximity. Being around or close to you would be better than being rejected. Plus I didn’t want to wreck the friendship you have with my sister.” His explanation is sweet and sincere. “I planned to be content with that. But when you nearly tackled me in the hardware store, well my proximity theory went out the window.”
I take a moment to think about what he said. Then I realize that Phillip is definitely like no other high school boy in any of my classes. There’s no hidden agenda with him. He isn’t dancing with me because of a bet or a dare. He isn’t dancing with me in hopes of gaining or accomplishing anything later. He’s dancing with me because he wants to. Because it makes him feel good to be around me. Because he likes me. Me.
“Phillip, you know I’m sick,” I lean in whispering. “It’s no picnic.”
“It’s a detail.”
Under the dim glow of the gymnasium, I feel my cheeks prick with embarrassment and I’m thankful for the bad lighting. “I like you too, but I don’t know if I’m girlfriend material.”
“You are to me.” This makes me smile and I realize that maybe I can have what other girls have. Someone to be with. I lay my head on his chest and enjoy the last few notes of the song. I feel Phillip’s chin on the top of my head as I melt into his embrace. The music changes and the tempo picks up, but Phillip keeps holding me for almost a whole other song. I don’t want to move because I enjoy having his arms around me. They’re so warm and safe. I feel like a protective force field has wrapped around us and no harm can touch me. I want to stay here forever. However, reality rears its ugly head again, reminding me with throbbing feet.
I look up at Phillip. He glances down into my blue eyes and it appears that he can already read my mind. “Need a break?”
I don’t want one, but yes, my feet hurt. They swell often and it’s another reason why I’m usually in flip flops. But trying to look ok, I wore regular slip-ons and now they’re killing me.
“I should check on my camera.” I don’t want to mention my feet. It’s bad enough that he saw me throwing up earlier this week.
“Alright,” Phillip smiles. Still holding my hand, he leads me out of the crowd, back to the bleachers where I left my camera unattended. I quickly kick my shoes off and wiggle my toes. I can’t see well in the low light, but I’m positive I have indentations from my shoes. I wasn’t going to inspect further, but then the lights came on as the music fades.
“And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, concludes our Harbine Hurricanes Homecoming dance. Good night, everyone. Be safe going home,” our principal announces, closing our festivities.
I check my watch and see that it’s midnight. The spell is over. I quickly start replacing my lens cap and put my zoom lens and flash into their prospective compartments of my camera bag. I also try to nonchalantly wipe under my eyes to ensure I don’t have any makeup smudges.
Phillip picks up my shoes. “Cinderella, don’t lose your slippers.”
I look up and am met with his warm gaze. “Forgetting them wouldn’t be so tragic. I wouldn’t be able to prove I belong with the prince anyway, because my feet are so swollen,” I laugh nervously. Zipping my camera case shut, I point to my sore, puffy feet. Another stupid side effect and reminder of my condition. Internally, I roll my eyes at myself. I wasn’t going to mention them and then I did. Idiot!
We walk out of the gym to the parking lot where Phillip follows me to my car. I don’t worry about waiting for Cynthia. She has plans to go home with Knox, and truth be told, they’ve probably already left the dance.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he delicately whispers. Phillip removes my camera case from my shoulder and places it in the back seat of my car. He takes my face in between his hands and slowly draws his face closer to mine. I feel an electric tingle down my spine when his lips touch my skin. I close my eyes, relishing this first delicious gentle kiss. His lips are warm and soft. As his mouth slants, mine matches. His tongue dips into my mouth tentatively, opening slightly before closing to complete the kiss.
When it’s over, I look up in search of his chocolate brown eyes. He brushes my hair from my cheek. “Cinderella has her prince, if she wants him.”
“I love the story of Cinderella,” I add dreamily. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“I know,” he grins. Seeing my confusion, he explains, “you and Cyn were debating the whole fairy tale thing awhile back. I told you, I pay attention.”
I think back for a moment. The conversation with Cyn that he referred to happened months ago, and he seemed to be engrossed in a game on TV that day. All I can do is wrap my arms around his waist. He willingly embraces me. Again, I notice his cologne. Subtle. Perfect. The essence of him. He places his fingertips on the tip of my chin guiding my face upward to meet his gaze.
I think Cinderella found her prince.