~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I started going out with this guy Mark in the late fall. My friend Kelley had started college and she befriended this bunch of guys during freshman orientation. She knew as soon as she met him that I would like him. He was cute and charming and liked a lot of the same music I liked and was definitely into me. That was a plus. But he wasn’t particularly bright, and he thought he was a lot funnier than he really was. Not a plus, but a tolerable minus.

He took my elbow and moved me up against the wall so we’d be out of everyone’s way, then squatted down and brushed the dirt off of my dress. It was a good thing those choir dresses were basically made of plastic, like a cheap graduation gown. We hadn’t had to wear them in the fall concert, but Christmas was considered more formal, so they fancied us up.

Mrs. Black told us it was time to head up onstage. Clayton and I walked towards the risers. "I really wanted to hear you sing that. You sounded great in rehearsal." I shushed him. "Promise me you’ll do a solo at the next concert." He let me step up ahead of him, and we took our places side by side near the center. He leaned in and pulled my hair behind my shoulders again. "And promise me you’ll wear your hair back like this."

It wasn’t a bad show. Kris Barnett entertained the audience with an unexpectedly lounge-y rendition of White Christmas. The wonderful Jillian Greer warbled her way through some Contemporary Christian song I’d never heard of before, as she always did when given the chance to solo. Shawn Kramer forgot to open his mouth when he sang I’ll Be Home For Christmas and I had to try to keep a straight face. It really wasn’t fair that Mrs. Black made us all stay onstage on the risers while the solos were going on. Especially when Clayton sang.

When he began singing the opening lines of I Wonder As I Wander, his voice filled the room in a way I’d never experienced before. The cheap chairs, which would normally be creaking and scuffling along the cafeteria floor, were silent. I don’t think anyone but Clayton breathed for three minutes.

In my mind, there was no way the audience couldn’t see what I was feeling. Every time Clayton inhaled, I felt it. Every time he held onto that high note, allowing it to ring for just a second longer than it was written, before releasing it with "out under the sky", my body tensed. Maybe they were so transfixed by him that they didn’t see me, as I scanned him up and down, noticing for the first time how strong he looked, despite his skinny build. Maybe nobody could see me close my eyes, trying to compose myself. Maybe Mark didn’t realize that, at that moment, right in front of him, I had fallen in love with someone else.

After the concert ended, I found my parents down in the audience. Dad commented that it was a much better show than the "twenty versions of Jingle Bells" he’d expected. Mom hugged me and said I looked pretty. Mark stood nearby, not saying much of anything. My folks made him nervous, and rightfully so. They could see things in him that I was blind to. But when Clayton walked up, pulling his mom and dad over to us, Mark grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him possessively.

I had to date Mark. I mean, I felt like I had to. I’d allowed myself to fall into that mindset about needing a boyfriend, and not just to convince people I wasn’t a lesbian. And it was so rare that any guy was even remotely interested in me that I had to jump on the first one that came along. A huge number of my friends were guys, but they were just "the guys"…no interest on their side. Maybe a little on mine in some cases, sometimes even a lot. But it wasn't reciprocated. Not once, outside a kiss from a cute drunk guy at a party when I was sixteen. The first guy in over a year made it clear to me that he saw me as someone worth making out with, so I went for it.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Dana was nervous about going with Paul since she didn’t know him well. They had both assumed that since they were both friends of mine that they’d get along fine. As it turned out, they were wrong. Dana was an artist who was obsessed with Led Zeppelin. Paul would be going into the Air Force Academy in the fall, but only because the Starfleet Academy wasn’t a viable option, not taking recruits for at least 500 more years.

Prom night was a disaster, and I got to witness the carnage up close. When they weren't bickering, they were ignoring each other. Only good part of the night was when our little group arrived at the hotel where it was being held. I walked up to the ballroom door just as Clayton and Jessica were leaving. He looked incredible in that tuxedo, which fit him far better than the freebie he wore for choir concerts, and the electric blue of his tie and cummerbund caused a shimmer I’d never seen before in those flecks of hazel in his eyes. I guess she probably looked pretty, but I didn’t look at her. She chatted with her little clique and he came over and gave me an amazing hug. Since my dress was backless, his hands were right against my skin, and I noticed him taking the time to run his hand down my back.

"You look beautiful. Nobody could wear that dress the way you do," he whispered in my ear.

What a moron I was.  This could have been my date.  I could have had those hands caressing my back on the dance floor.  I could have been escorted by a boy who not only thought I looked pretty, despite my hair looking hideous since I didn't have a clue how to make it look better, but who made sure to tell me so...and in a way that buckled my knees.

I took a deep breath, trying to come up with a response worthy of him, but all I managed to get out was "You look great, too" before Jessica snapped that it was time to go.

My heart sank.  Did he know he was on a date with a girl who had such a bad reputation?  I mean, I knew that a bad rep didn't necessarily mean anything...hell, I'd had one myself years before...but I'd heard her months earlier laughing about him with her friends, saying stuff I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate, and I didn't have the heart to tell him.  About how one of them should try to find out for sure if he liked girls...which made me wonder if she was going to try to have sex with him that night, or at least get most of the way there.  It made me sick to my stomach to think of him kissing her, touching her, anytime, anywhere...but on that night, it hurt worse, knowing that I'd be sitting, miserable, in that damn ballroom, watching my friends fight for at least another couple hours.

Clayton gallantly took Jessica's hand as they walked through the lobby, and when she pulled him into the revolving door with her, I saw her hand go to his butt.  That was when I ran to the restroom to throw up.  Found out the following Monday at school that there were stories circulating that I was drunk.  Fantastic.

Just the kind of thing you want to happen right before getting onstage in front of the entire student body. Okay, that's an exaggeration. It's not like that many people typically came to these things. Parents, mostly. But word had gotten out that the choir was good this year, and the new guy had to be heard to be believed. Plus, this was the "pop" concert, which meant less foreign languages and more fluff. Same amount of Michael W. Smith songs, though. Some things don't change.

As a group, we blew the crowd away with some uptempo gospel numbers, and silly stuff, like Mahna Mahna. Individually, there was even more diversity of material. Where else could you see a math-lete like Darren Carter sing Bon Jovi's Wanted: Dead or Alive accompanied on guitar by that burly linebacker, Paul Bartell, right before Kris Barnett killed with his practically-Steve-Perry voice, singing Lights? Of course, in addition to the usual schmaltzy religious material, we got Jillian and Christy's aren't-we-cute rendition of Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better, which no doubt had Irving Berlin retching in his grave.

Clayton squeezed my hand quickly before getting up and taking the microphone from Christy. It was time for his solo, and the only time for the entire night when I wasn't going to be thinking about how scared I was to get up there myself. I was so freaked out by the weeks of knowing that I'd be center stage, I never even asked him what he was going to sing.

I didn't recognize it at first, because he'd taken the key down a step or two. But once I realized what it was, I smiled. He loved Peter Cetera. I hugged myself and closed my eyes. It would have been so great if Clayton were the man who would fight for my honor, the hero that I'd been dreaming of.

Then I looked out into the audience for the first time. I'd noticed a bigger crowd than usual when I got there, but I hadn't bothered to see who they were. There were an awful lot of girls in the first few rows. I squinted, trying to figure out who they were. I didn't know their faces, but I could tell what they were thinking. They were all gazing up at him and smiling. He really did look great that night. He was wearing this navy blue suit jacket we'd found in a thrift store, over a dark green shirt, and he'd borrowed my bolo tie and metal collar tips. He made a big point of looking good that night, and he kept asking my opinion, making sure I liked everything about his outfit. He always wanted to look nice, but, like me, he usually just gave up. Tonight was different…he even combed his hair back. Big dummy probably never even noticed all those girls, who had to have been there to see him. I was sure more girls liked him than he realized. It's not like they all showed up because they wanted to support the fine arts.

And then I noticed Jessica. She was sitting off to the side, wearing a really short skirt. She was twirling her hair around her finger and crossing her legs in that way she always did. She was definitely checking him out. I decided to try to pretend she wasn't there, so I put my focus back on him.

God, he was good. I wished I could be the kind of singer who could just take over a room like that. Hell, I would have liked to be a person who had that sort of power. Clayton had every one of those girls in the palm of his hand. Maybe he didn't just do choir because he sang in church. Maybe this was what it was about. Girls.

When he was done, Jessica jumped up from her seat, clapping for him, and he smiled at her before thanking the audience and coming back to sit next to me.

"How was that?" he whispered. "I think they liked it."

"Oh yeah, you've got quite a little cheering section down there, if you didn't notice."

He smiled, glancing over at Jessica again. "Yeah, I guess so."

We'd be up after Missy sang The Rose. Somehow that gave me enough time to have an entire argument in my head about what Jessica was doing in the audience. She never ever came to these things. Not even to support her fellow cheerleaders. It had to have been Clayton. And he smiled at her. I was sure there was something going on there. He'd never mentioned anything since prom night, but seeing her there that night convinced me.

I don't actually have too much memory beyond that point. Missy finished her song, and Clayton took my hand and led me to the front of the stage. Mrs. Black introduced us, and the accompanist began playing. I do remember that what I was feeling wasn't nerves. It was anger. I remember him holding my hand during the song, and hugging me when we were done, but I don't even remember talking to Clayton, or anyone else, after the show.

The next day, Jillian Greer came into the choir hall with big news. Her dad had videotaped the entire concert as a surprise for her, and she said that he could have VHS copies made for anyone who wanted one. Clayton ran over to me, excited. "We need to get one of those. We were really good."

"Yeah, I guess it was a good show. It might be nice to be able to show people how good our choir was back in the day."

He put his hands on my shoulders and got right in front of my face. "I meant us. Our song. I'm so proud of you." He lost his smile. "What's the matter, Jill?"

I couldn't look at him. "Nothing. I mean…was I really okay? I think I kinda blacked out."

He pulled me to a chair and sat down next to me, putting the back of his hand against my cheek. "Are you okay? You're not feeling well?"

I crossed my arms and looked down at my lap. "No, I'm not sick or anything…I just don't…I wasn't really there last night. I don't know what we sounded like." He put his arm around me, and I felt like I might cry. "Did I sing okay?"

He squeezed me around the shoulders. "Maybe you weren't there, but Patti LaBelle was!"

"Oh my God. I'm not Patti LaBelle. I'm not even close. If you're just gonna lie to me…"

"Okay, you didn't sound like Patti LaBelle," he whispered. "But you sounded amazing! You were really into the song, especially at the end. I gotta admit, when we were rehearsing, you sang great, but…I sure wasn't expecting what you did last night. It's like you were really lettin' me have it." He patted my arm and giggled.

That was it. I was so pissed at him, at myself, at Jessica…I must have let the anger take over and do the singing for me. "Wow. So…people liked it?"

He got down on the floor and knelt in front of me. "Are you kidding? You really don't remember, do you?" He took both my hands into his. "We gotta get that video. You need to see how good you are. How good we are. And you need to hear that applause you got. I think you really need that."

"Okay. So…did Jessica like it?"

"Jessica? Oh, I don't know. It's not like I talked to her or anything." He looked confused. "Since when do you care what Jessica thinks?"

I leaned back in my chair. "I don't. What do you mean you didn't talk to her? Wasn't she there to see you?"

He dropped my hands and got back onto the chair, turning it to face me. "I don't know. I don't care. I haven't talked to her once since the prom. She's not…" His voice sunk to a whisper. "She's just not a very nice person."

He doesn’t like her. Oh, thank God. "Yeah. She's a bitch." He slapped my knee and I felt myself starting to smile. "I'm sorry I…let you have it last night. Let's get that tape. I want to see us. And you. You were awesome."

Mrs. Black passed through the room towards her office, clapping, congratulating us on a fantastic concert. Clayton leaned in and whispered into my ear, his hand still on my knee. "We're both awesome."

Then he got up and went over to where Jillian was writing down the names of people who wanted a copy of the tape, and basking in compliments, her favorite pastime. I just watched him for a little bit, daydreaming about how the two of us might curl up on the couch and watch that tape together. Maybe a big bowl of popcorn and some root beer. And that green afghan Grandma made. But a small commotion shook me out of it.

"But you said you did it! That's what you told us yesterday!" Paul Bartell's big bass voice cut through the room.

I saw Clayton put his hand on Missy's arm. "I can't believe she thinks she can get away with this. That painting hanging by the principal's office isn't hers!"

Jillian stood up, looking flustered. "Are you calling me a liar, Clayton?"

I’d never seen him stand so tall. "I'm doing more than that. I can't believe you let people think Jill's artwork is yours when you don't even take any art classes. What's the matter with you?"

She'd been telling people the painting that Miss D had hung in the office hall was hers? That was news to me. I knew I should have signed my whole name. But it was prettier to have just my first name on it, that's all. And now she was claiming it as her stuff, the bitch. I felt like a good fight…but Clayton was doing it for me. I stood up and took a few steps towards them.

Jillian was shaking. "You don't have to take classes to put artwork into a competition. Ask anyone. That painting is mine." She turned to the kids standing around them. "It's my painting. Why would I lie about something like that?"

Clayton looked around the room. "I don't know. I don't know why you do a lot of the things you do. But I know that I was with Jillian when she painted it." He pointed at me. "That Jillian. The one with the talent." He dropped his arm and his voice softened. "The one who doesn't lie."

Wow. Now there's a knight in shining armor if I ever saw one.

He told me later that he was glad the year was almost over and that she'd be graduating, so he wouldn’t have to put up with her much longer. I reminded him that I'd be gone, too…but he said that even though he was sure he'd be working a lot all year to save up for college, and he knew I'd be busy, he wanted to spend time with me. Having a friend like Clayton made everything about my senior year better. And now it looked like he was going to make my first year of college better, too.

He pulled me aside after graduation to give me a present. It was a swirly silver pendant with a small opal set into it. It was beautiful, and I wore it every day, especially once I realized that he would reach up to my throat and touch it every time he noticed I had it on. I would do anything to feel him touching me.