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I didn't stay at the party long after Two-Bit saw me and Jerry. In fact, I went inside and told Vickie I was leaving, with Jerry hot on my tail.

"Bridget! Bridget, wait up," he called as he followed me to the T-Bird.

I sighed. "Did you see his face?" I asked. "Don't you know what he's going to do to me now?"

Jerry stood on the lawn looking plain confused. "What the hell are you talking about? Bridget, why do you care? It's Two-Bit Mathews. He likes to get on people's nerves. Just ignore him."

I stared down at the ground, feeling tears of frustration prick at the corners of my eyes. Why did I care so much? Two-Bit had only brought up Jerry the one time in all the times he had seen him walking me to second period. He wasn't nearly as bad as he was at the beginning of the year, so why in the hell was this bothering me so much?

"That's harder than you might think," I settled on saying.

Jerry laughed. "Yeah, I know. I've known him a few years now. He's changed a lot since then, believe it or not, but the one thing that's stayed the same is that he's a smartass. Well, that and his friends. Anyways, you've handled him for this long. You gotta be pretty tolerant to do that."

I was? Since when? God, where did Jerry get all these misconceptions of me? He made me out to be a saint when I was really the opposite. I'm as saintly as a rock.

When I didn't respond, he sighed. "Can I take you home?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine," I insisted. "I've got to get the car home. I'll see you around, Jerry."

I started to leave, but Jerry caught up with me and surprised me by pecking me on the cheek. I felt my face get hot, and I straightened my back and looked him in the eye. "Lemme take you out some time," he said. "Please. Tonight was nice, and I'd like to give it another shot. Soon."

I smiled bigger than I had almost that entire night, except for right after Jerry and I had kissed. I nodded. "I'd like that, Jerry."

"Good. I'll see you later, Bridget."

I got into the car much happier. I drove home, thinking of the party, of that moment out on the porch. When Two-Bit had seen us and realized it was me kissing Jerry, he stared at me like a deer in the headlights. I'll never forget that look on his face, like he was surprised, like it was the last thing in the world he had expected to see.

Like most things involving him at that time, I couldn't make any sense of it.

But what was the point in trying? There was nothing to make sense of. You can't make sense of something that doesn't make sense in the first place. We were both entitled to like whoever we liked. He was probably just surprised to see me. Even though he asked if I was going to be there and I told him I would be. It didn't mean anything, the same way my being upset he saw me and Jerry kissing didn't mean anything.

None of it meant anything.

xXx

The night Jerry and I went on our first real date almost didn't happen; we almost went to a football game with Bob, Cherry, Randy, and Marcia out in Stillwater. Maybe it would have been smart to go on a group date for our first one, test the waters, but I was glad things went the way they did.

"Where is everybody?" I asked as I slid into Jerry's car.

"Change of plans," he said simply. "Bob and Cherry ain't exactly on speakin' terms right now, and that kinda ruined the whole thing for Marcia and Randy."

That was a shock – I hadn't even known they were fighting. I felt briefly hurt that Cherry hadn't told me about it, but then I thought maybe she didn't feel as if she knew me well enough yet to confide in me about her relationship problems.

"So…why are you here?" I asked as Jerry started the car. He looked at me and grinned.

"Well, I figured, why waste a perfectly good night with a nice gal? I thought we could still do somethin' together."

I smiled at him, and we started driving. I evaluated what I was wearing, hoping it would be suitable for wherever we were going. I had been going for semi-casual, thinking I would be at a football game that night. I kept trying to guess where we were going – ice cream, movies, drive-in, a restaurant – but with each guess, Jerry would just smile like he had a secret and shake his head.

When we pulled up to the dance hall, I was petrified. The only time I danced in front of people was when I took lessons as a girl in etiquette. My grandparents had insisted that a girl had to learn how to dance, so Dad made sure I did, but that was as far as I had gone with it to that point. The dance hall Jerry had brought us to was a nice-looking place downtown, which meant that people there were going to recognize me and remember me as the awkward girl who tried dancing with Jerry Thompson and made a fool of herself.

"Dancing?" I squeaked.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Uh, when I was in junior high, my parents made me take lessons at this place called the Pink Barn. Everybody's parents made them go there, pretty much. It was where all the adults took their kids to learn how to dance. That was the first time I'd ever really touched a girl." Jerry laughed, a bit nervous. "Anyway, I thought it could be nice? Something different, at least. And you're a classy girl and all, so…"

Another shrug. He was being so boyish and sweet about the whole thing, but I still had my doubts. "Jerry," I tried to tell him, strangely calm, "I'm going to make an ass of myself."

"No, you ain't. You'll be fine. I've seen some people here who have made true asses of themselves. You're too modest to go that far."

For some reason, that comment sort of rubbed me the wrong way. Too modest? But I didn't say anything about it, knowing it was probably true even if I wasn't happy about it. "Alright," I sighed, pretending to be all put-upon. "Let's do it."

The building was clearly older, another build in the Art Deco style. It looked like the kind of place my parents would have gone to when they met after the war, so I had thought things like this were starting to go out of style. They had met at the Algonquin Hotel bar after they had both seen the same performance of Brigadoon. Dad had told me that my mother was an absolute nut for music and dancing and loved going to shows, so he used to take her dancing before I was born. I must have gotten that love of music from her, which was hard to think about.

"I feel underdressed," I said, looking down at my simple dress self-consciously, but Jerry shook his head.

"Are you kidding? You look great. This ain't formal – people come here from all over town. It looks a lot fancier than it is, trust me."

I raised an eyebrow, knowing that meant there could be greasers there, but I wondered if this was some sort of neutral site, like something out of one of those ridiculous JD movies.

Jerry paid for us, and we went into the main ballroom and came upon a packed floor. There was a live band playing, and suddenly I felt like I had stepped into a movie – a good one, not one of those gang ones. Jerry was the dashing leading man, I was the endearing leading lady, and this was where our dramatic love story began: a roller coaster of emotion full of plot twists and divergences in the Road of Honesty and Decency that would force us to make some tough decisions.

No one could predict this ending.

"Ya wanna dance, Bridget?"

I looked at Jerry, and I began drowning in those eyes of his again. A smile crept onto my face, and, unbeknownst to me, it would stay there the whole night. "I would love to," I said, all fears of embarrassing myself suddenly going out the window.

Once we were out there, I found it wasn't so bad – years of dance lessons seemed to kick in, and I would go so far as to say that Jerry and I made a pretty good team out on that dance floor. It took about six songs for me to get tired out, and he kissed me when we finished, quick and sweet, but enough to make my stomach flip in a real good way.

"You want a drink?" Jerry asked over the music, and I nodded. "Alright, line's a bit long, so I might be a minute. Here, come siddown and wait."

I sat at our table while Jerry stood in line and watched everyone for a while as I caught my breath. When I wasn't looking, I heard someone sit down in the chair next to me, and assuming it was Jerry, I turned with a big smile on my face and was surprised to see Sodapop Curtis sitting next to me with a grin of his own.

"Howdy!" He yelled over the music. "Fancy seein' you here, Bridget Stevens."

I thought it was sort of funny he used my full name and laughed. Even though I was on a date with another guy, and Sodapop was essentially off-limits for a girl like me, I couldn't help the butterflies in my stomach when I saw him, same way Cherry couldn't, either. He was that handsome. "Well, hello to you, too. You here with somebody?"

"Yeah, my girl Sandy and I are here with my friend and his date. The girls are off in the ladies right now, though. Where's your guy?"

So it was Sodapop and Sandy, and Steve and Evie. Those were the ones I knew for certain, but I was pretty darn sure it was Sylvia who was unfortunate enough to be dating Dallas Winston. So that left Two-Bit and Kathy, and I felt something flare up in me at the thought. These cheerleader types, I remembered her saying. Kathy thought I was an idiot, and I decided, sitting in that dance hall, that I hated her.

"Drinks," I said, nodding my head towards concessions. He was still a way from the front of the line, so I figured we had a minute. "Are you guys having a nice time?"

Soda nodded. "Yeah, we are. I saw you through the crowd – you're a good dancer. You take lessons?"

"Some, when I was younger. But it's not my usual scene, honestly."

He shook his head like he didn't believe me. "Whatever you say..." He trailed off. "Could I steal you for one right now?"

My eyes widened, recognizing what a bold move that was. A part of me wanted to say yes, but Jerry was nearly to the front of the line and I didn't want to be gone when he got back. "Rain check?" I eventually asked, and Sodapop hung his head in defeat.

"Oh, alright," he sighed dramatically. "But I'm gonna hold you to it," he grinned, and at the time, I figured that it was all just empty promises.

"Sounds fair."

"Alright." He stood. "I'll get outta yer hair, then. Don't want your date seein' you with a guy like me." Sodapop winked. "See ya around, Bridget Stevens."

I almost told him that Jerry wasn't that sort of guy. I knew that Sodapop meant that Jerry would get mad because he was a greaser, not just another guy. But I didn't want to explain it and complicate everything, so I just nodded and let him go back to the dance floor and Sandy.

"Who was that?"

I looked up and saw Jerry setting two Cokes down on the table in front of us. "Sodapop Curtis," I said. "He came over to tell me I was a good dancer."

"Well, you are. See? I told you that you wouldn't make an ass of yourself."

I still wasn't so sure about that, but it made me blush, anyway, and I smiled the entire drive home and couldn't stop smiling as Jerry walked me to my door.

"I had a great time tonight, Jerry," I said.

He smiled. "So did I. So great that I'd do it again, every night of the week."

He ran a hand through my hair, and the gesture sent chills down my spine. I saw out of the corner of my eye that the light in my father's study was on, which meant he was still up. I hoped he wouldn't see the two of us because I was hoping maybe Jerry would want to kiss me again. And that wasn't something I needed my father to see.

"So would I," I whispered. "Maybe we should run away so we could."

"I wish," he chuckled, "but this is the best I can do for now."

For now was sort of perfect, because he kissed me again right there on the front porch, and we didn't break for a long, long time.

But then something horrible happened.

The look on Two-Bit's face flashed across my vision, the look of confusion and shock and mild hurt as he caught me and Jerry on Vickie's porch, and it made me break off the kiss. Jerry looked down at me with his eyebrows raised.

"What – did I do something wrong…?"

"What? No!" I said hurriedly. "No, just…my dad is right inside and I realized maybe we shouldn't go on this long." I laughed nervously. "Sorry, Jerry. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, shaking his head. "No worries. I didn't even think of that."

"We'll do this again soon, though, right?" I asked, and with that assurance, I went inside.

xXx

"I need details!" Vickie squealed. "Tell me absolutely everything."

We were sitting on my porch, listening to the radio float through the window. Vickie was busy painting my fingernails red, while at the same time letting the blue polish I put on her toes dry. And now she wanted to know everything that had gone on between me and Jerry during our date because gossip was the currency of the realm.

"It was...amazing. Wonderful," I gushed, letting myself be a total girl. "Easily the best date I've ever been on." (The only date I had ever been on.) I left out the part about the kiss, though, mostly because any thoughts of the kiss brought up thoughts of Two-Bit, which I still didn't understand.

Vickie gave me a smug but sincere smile and wiped away a stray bit of polish. "I just knew he liked you, I just knew it," she insisted. "I bet he asks you to be his girl. You'd be a great couple. Maybe even better than Cherry and Bob."

I raised my eyebrows at that. Was that even possible? Cherry and Bob were practically king and queen of the school. Was Vickie saying that Jerry and I could be even better than that? Better than her and George? Impossible.

But then I thought about it a little more. The reason Jerry and I hadn't gone to the football game had been because the two of them were fighting. Cherry had always looked at Bob as if he hung the moon – but maybe it wasn't all bliss between them.

"Anyways," Vickie sighed, "I'm glad he likes you. Really. 'Bout time you got some action." She winked, but then her face fell. "Bridget?"

I looked at her and saw something I had never seen on Vickie's face before: confusion. A sense she was lost. This was not the Vickie I was used to, and I didn't like it. "Yeah?"

Vickie studied my hand, then began a second coat of paint. "Tell me something."

"Anything."

Without looking up or stopping her work, she asked, "Are you a virgin, Bridget?"

And she wasn't even embarrassed! My face definitely turned red at the question, not even able to imagine myself as anything but a virgin. It's embarrassing to admit, but even now I'm something of a prude. It was even worse then. "Yes," I whispered, "I am. Why?"

"Why?" Vickie repeated. "Well, I dunno. Maybe because...I dunno. I mean, would you ever have sex with Jerry? Oh, dammit." Vickie fixed her mistake with my nails and then looked at me, as though the question was totally normal.

"I don't know, Vick. We've been on one date. I haven't exactly decided yet. Or thought about it, for that matter."

"But would you? Are you attracted enough to him to do it?" She pressed.

I sighed. "I don't know. I guess I am," I shrugged. "Is…is there something you're trying to get at, Vickie?"

She shook her head. "No. I guess I was just curious."

Now, I guess I'm a bit progressive in my thinking when I admit to not minding when a couple has sex before they get married, even if I struggled at the time to picture myself being the sort of girl who did something like that. But I also didn't want my friend to think I was a square. Maybe talking about it made my face red, but I knew that there were far worse things a person could do than have sex before they got married.

"There. Your nails are done."

I held them up and examined them, nodding my satisfaction. "Looks good," I proclaimed. "Thanks, Vickie."

"You're welcome."

She stood and dusted herself off, looking out at the yard while I waved my hands to try to get my nails to dry faster. Vickie still had that thoughtful look on her face, and I figured that she still had more questions to ask – I just hoped they wouldn't be quite as personal as the last one.

"Did you ever have to go to cotillion?" she asked eventually.

"We didn't call it that, but yeah. Manners, etiquette, cotillion – it's all pretty much the same, isn't it?"

"I guess. Did they ever talk to you about dating, boys?"

I shrugged. "A little. Mostly it was just about how to sit properly, which fork to use, all that."

I doubt my father would have put me through those lessons if my grandparents hadn't insisted on it. He thought it was all outdated, that they encouraged women and girls to let their minds go to waste and I could learn perfectly good manners at home. But my grandparents didn't want to hear it, so I knew how to sit properly in a skirt and how to at least pretend I was interested in what people were saying.

"The rest of the girls and I did cotillion in seventh grade. We had this big ball at the end of it and everything. And we were all presented at the debutante ball last summer."

"Okay," I drawled. "That's great, I guess."

She frowned at me. "It's a big deal. Just because you don't get it doesn't mean it's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid," I rushed to say. "It's great." I had not been presented. I knew nothing about that debutante stuff, and frankly, getting all dressed up just to be paraded around and looked at by adults sounded mortifying. "I guess I'm just wondering where you're going with all this."

Vickie sighed. "Well, I just remember that when we were in cotillion, the woman who ran the school told all of us that even though it was a few years off, we needed to know something about men, and that something was that a man should never waste your time. Did anyone in your manners classes ever tell you that?" I shook my head. "Well. I've just been thinking about that a lot lately, and I guess I was just wondering if someone had said anything similar to you, since you're not from here, and all."

It was odd, hearing Vickie talk like that. She was always so sure of herself, telling people what was on her mind and what she thought should be done, but her tone was so unsure and she seemed to be working through something. It made me uncomfortable – she was supposed to be the one in charge, the one with all the answers, not the one asking questions.

"Makes sense," I said quietly. "Um. Again, Vickie, if there's something you want to tell me – "

"There's not," she said quickly. "It's just been on my mind."

I smiled brightly, trying to turn the mood back around. "Well – then here's hoping George and Jerry don't waste our time."

xXx

"Afternoon, Miz Stevens."

I favored Mr. Connors with a smile. The little drugstore in the middle of town was quickly becoming a favorite of mine for a number of reasons: it was a short drive from my house and a quick walk from the school, they made great strawberry milkshakes, and it was devoid of any and all territorial drama. Mr. Connors, too, was becoming something of an acquaintance; he was an older man, maybe ten or fifteen years older than my father, so he had a grandfatherly air about him and a gentle voice. He had not only quickly learned my name, but my order, too, and a few minutes later he set a milkshake in front of me without me even asking.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Mr. Connors said kindly. "How's school?"

I shrugged. "Fine." I held up my book – Thornton Wilder's Our Town. It was our next read in English. "Brought some homework."

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

It was just me and Mr. Connors for a while, only a few people coming in to browse and purchase over-the-counter medications, so it was an ideal place to read in peace for a while. I wondered if the drugstore used to be a little busier, maybe two or three decades ago, full of teenagers coming in after school and on date nights, but I was also perfectly happy to have it more or less to myself.

"Well, howdy, Miz Stevens."

I always speak too soon.

Two-Bit had seated himself at the counter two stools down from me, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. It seemed that Two-Bit was always showing up at simultaneously the worst and most opportune times. If that makes sense. I was surprised to see him – not just because it felt like some sort of joke at my expense by the universe, but because I hadn't really talked to him since Vickie's party. We had seen each other in class, of course, but there had been no notes, no quips, no back-and-forth. No teasing about dates and grades. Just quiet, which I knew good and well by now was something he definitely was not. We had been starting to get back into our rhythm after the whole Jimmy fiasco, but ever since the party…nada.

He flagged Mr. Connors down, passed him a quarter, and asked for a Coke. He sounded tired. I thought about telling him so, but I wondered if he would take it the wrong way, like drawing attention to a weakness.

"Hello, Two-Bit. What're you doing here?"

"Havin' myself a Co-Cola. How 'bout you? Not the usual haunt for a gal like you."

I shifted a little in my seat, suddenly self-conscious. "Well, uh, I thought this was 'neutral territory.'"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"Well, some of my friends were telling me that this is sort of, well, neutral territory, like I said. Everyone comes here. Weren't they right?"

He shrugged. "I guess so." He jutted his chin at my milkshake. "Strawberry?"

"Oh, uh – yeah. Sometimes I think the only reason I like strawberry shakes so much is because I like the color pink. Strawberry's fine and all, but I really prefer vanilla. So if they could just dye a vanilla shake pink, I guess I'd have it made."

He chuckled. "For you, Bee, I'm sure they would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh! – nothing, nothing. Nothing at all."

"Say – why're you wearing your sunglasses?"

Now he was the one who looked awkward. "…it's bright out."

I giggled. "No, it's not. It's overcast, has been for days. Nice try. What, you have a headache?"

"Something like that. And, uh, there's the matter of this…"

He took off the sunglasses and winced at both the light and the odd tug the action made on his skin. My eyes went big as saucers as I took in the sorry sight of him. Both of his eyes were black and bloodshot, and there was bruising on the bridge of his nose and around his face. He looked absolutely terrible, and I understood why he sounded so tired – he had gotten his ass handed to him. I had seen him with bruised and scraped-up fists, but this was something else entirely. If Jimmy Hopper had looked even a fraction as bad as Two-Bit did, I didn't blame him one bit for skipping a few days, no matter that I didn't like him. Two-Bit's face really looked that bad.

"What're you lookin' at?"

I cleared my throat – guess I had been staring. "Your, uh, your eyes…and, um, your entire face, actually. You look terrible."

"Yeah, I guess I do, huh?"

"What happened?"

"Got in a fight, that's all. You know how my kind are – always gettin' into scraps."

A scrap? Sure. Someone had rocked him to his core, that was for certain, but he was keeping mum. "Always?" I asked. "You're sure? I've never seen you quite like this before."

"Well," he drawled, laughing a bit, "you haven't known me that long. I've had worse."

"Really? Wow."

"It is a 'wow.'"

"Well, I hope it gets better soon."

He seemed surprised at that. A pleasant kind of surprise, though, where he wouldn't stop smiling and was looking at me like…like what? I couldn't make…ugh. I'm not even going to say it. All I knew was that he was smiling at me in a way I used to hate, and now he was sitting with me in the drugstore, the two of us just talking like people, and I thought it was nice. It was just…nice. For once.

"You do?" He asked, feigning shock.

"Mmhmm," I hummed. "Why is that so surprising?"

"Well, it's just that we have history – "

"We do," I agreed. "So?"

"So, Miz Stevens, it's just that I'm a bit surprised to hear the well-wishes, considering the kind of history."

I sighed. "You could've just said 'thank you.' That would've worked, too."

"Well – thanks," he said lamely, and I rolled my eyes. He pointed at my book. "Whatcha readin'?"

"Oh!" I pushed it between us. "It's for English – Our Town. It's a play."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, I do! I think. I think it's about to give me an existential crisis, but maybe that's not such a bad thing." I shrugged. It can never hurt to do a little introspection.

"Existential?" he repeated, grabbing the book.

"Yeah – um, I mean, yes. Existential, like…existence. Asking the big questions."

"The big questions," he repeated slowly. "I see. Sounds way above my paygrade." His eyes skimmed whatever random page he had flipped to, then grimaced and threw it back down on the counter. "I can't remember the last time I read anything for school," he said.

"It's been that long?"

Two-Bit smirked. "You sure do ask a lot of questions. Don't you?"

"Guess so. What – too much for you?" I grinned.

"Guess so," he said smartly.

That one actually got me to laugh. "Well? What'd you think? Enough to give you an existential crisis of your own?"

I hadn't finished reading the play just yet, but I was close, and the part that had gotten to me so far was when Emily and George were sitting together in a drugstore – just like Two-Bit and I were just then – drinking ice cream sodas. Emily started crying because she was realizing she was in love with George, and him with her, and she was upset with the way he had been acting. She loved him enough to tell him he was doing something wrong, and he appreciated that about her. He appreciated it more than anything. I thought that was really something, this idea that if you love somebody then you owe it to them to tell them when they are upsetting you, because otherwise how could they know they were doing wrong in the first place? And because Emily loved him, that's what she did for George.

And then they got married.

I put that thought away.

"That's the thing you're reading in English right now?" he asked.

"Sure is."

A nod. "I think maybe that's what I'm s'posed to be reading for mine, too. And since you gave it such a glowin' review, I think I'll give it a shot."

My shoulders relaxed, and I gave him a genuine smile. "Well. I guess miracles do happen."

Thanks for reading!