Craig heaved loudly. He had messed up, again. Dammit.
Tonight, he risked suspension and groundation all for the girl he liked. But, as mentioned before, he messed it up. She had snuck out, with her best friend, to the senior dance.
A dance that she, a pretty junior, didn't belong in.
But I had invited them both, so I guess they just decided to take a chance. Dressed in retro glam, they were hiding behind the shrubs outside of school, trying to avoid all possible attention. Getting caught was not an option for the two "good" girls.
I helped them get it. I opened the back door and together, we all crawled our way to the dance, almost getting caught again by Raditch. She was right next to me then, I should have done something. But my nerves seemed to get the best of me, so I focused on the mission. Not getting caught.
Once in the dance, we separated. She staid with her friend, dancing the night away, as I lurked in the back of the dance, waiting for the precise moment to strike. And there it was. A slow song. The perfect slow song.
As I walked over, I felt my stomach flip over on itself. My face was flushed, my mouth was dry, and there she was. With her cute little face smiling up at me. Some how I found the courage to spoke.
The conversation was pointless, just small talk till I got up my nerve to ask her. Ask her what I wanted to do since we got there. And then I felt it, the words fumble out of my mouth.
"Will you dance with me," My heart stopped, I looked down, and there was another face there, a way out, "Manny."
Immediately I knew my choice was wrong. Her face fell, and Manny's changed, but she eagerly agreed. My heart sunk as I walked away with Manny on my arm, leaving her, dressed up as Cindy Lauper on the dance floor.
Juniors shouldn't have been there.
Sid Vicious shouldn't like Cindy Lauper.
And Craig Manning shouldn't be emotionally attached to Emma Nelson.
Craig came home that night with a splitting headache. Not only was he emotionally messed up, but it was starting to feel as if he was physically messed up too. Luck was not on his side.
He opened the door leading into the house he shared with Joey, finding him dead asleep on the couch. Figures the one time he wants to talk to him about girl and life, he not there. His broad shoulders fell at the sight and he huffed up stairs to his room.
His room was a scattered mess, smelling of old laundry and rotting food. Typical of a teenager and a young musician. He sighed heavily at the mess and made his way to his bed, laying down slowly, fearing that it would somehow spontaneously combust under him. His day had gotten that bad that he feared that it might be possible.
Rolling over onto his stomach, he reached under his bed, pulling out a shoe box that one would suspect was full of nudy magazines. A grin erupted onto his face as he pulled out the contents with in the box, a scrap book. It was bound in white silk, decorated with sunflowers. The picture on the front cover, small and framed, showed a married couple, holding each other lovingly. The book itself seemed out of place within his room.
He opened the book slowly, not wanting to make the spine crease, and looked down at the first couple of pictures, them being ones of the bride and grooms families. Once again he turned the page, only to find more pictures of the wedding. Obviously not finding what he was looking for, he continued to flip throw the beautiful book till he found the photos taken at the reception.
And there it was.
Framed by yellow silk ribbon, a picture of him and Emma, slow dancing, something they should have been doing that night.
He smiled at the far away memory. She was wearing a white dress, decorated with pink flowers. She was beautiful, even at that young age. And he was right in front of her, wearing a light blue suit, because his dad had no sense of style. He looked like a moron, whose very presence next to her seemed rude.
But they were smiling at each other. Though they were "forced" to dance with each other, it had been one of the best dances in his life. They had talked to whole time, barely aware of their surroundings. That was, until the cake was brought out.
The page had been dedicated to them. The words "Young Love" written out in a silver calligraphy pen. It whole book was indeed beautiful, but this single page was ravishing. The detail, the design, and the picture. It was perfect.
In all the ways tonight wasn't.
Suddenly Craig was hit with all the pain he had been experiencing only ten minutes earlier. The headache and the ache in his chest came roaring back with a vengeance, all at the thought of his ruined night.
He looked down at the picture and knew. He needed to make things right with her.
Emma wasn't Cindy Lauper. And he wasn't Sid Vicious.
They belonged together.