Maybe it was bad judgment on my part, but I decided I needed help.

Okay so I need help…but not like that, you see. I needed assistance…not…never mind.

Anyway, with the dance only a few days away, I decided to bring in Danielle Fosters.

Ah, Danielle…the Manhattan beauty. With her long raven hair and deep brown eyes…

You know, I could get any guy to describe her, and they'd say the exact same thing. Which is why I'm not doing it. It sickens me.

I hate males. Always thinking the same thing.

But I'm not supposed to be talking about Danielle, now am I? In fact, I take great pride in NOT talking about Danielle. Because everyone else talks about her. How pretty she is, how great she was when she danced at Irving Hall the night before…blah, blah, blah.

But she did have one redeeming quality, in my eyes anyway…

She owed me a favor.

At this point in the story I'd like to take the time to laugh evilly. You may join me if you wish. Try it, it's fun! Now, all together…

Bwahaha. Hahahaha. HAHAHAHAHA!

Very good. Thank you. Anyway…

"Thanks for coming, Fosters." I spit in my hand and held it out to her. She made an uncomfortable gesture and slowly took my hand, pumped it up and down twice, then tried to discreetly wipe in on the back of her skirt.

I loved making her uncomfortable.

"I really wish you'd call me Danielle, Timber. We've known each other-…"

"For two years, yeah, yeah. Our social relationship isn't what I brought you here for." I gestured to Spot, who wasn't bothering to hide his thorough check-out of Danielle. I tell you; sometimes the boy does the same routine over and over. "He's the problem."

"What's wrong with him?" She asked, seemingly looking him over as well. I rolled my eyes. This was a disaster in the making. "He doesn't look that bad too me."

"Oh for Christ's - the boy can't dance! That's the problem! Can you help me out or not in time for the big dance?" I asked, annoyed. Did EVERY girl like him?

Danielle gave him a coy smile, and then patted my head, causing me to fume. "I think I can help you two out."

"Oh, Goody." I mimicked her tone and walked to the edge. "He's got the basics, but he won't actually get it until he actually dances with someone."

"I'm not THAT bad." Spot protested in my direction.

"You stink."

"We'll fix that." Danielle said with a smile up at him. I sat down on the edge and sighed, watching them.

"Remember where your hands go, Conlon. Don't go too far down…"

"Timb, I've heard it a million times…I think I can manage." Spot interrupted, turning his attention back to Danielle as they stepped into each other's arms.

"Okay. Ready? One, two, three…One, two, three…" I counted. I was amazed. He really DID get it.

The boy was dancing!

But he was dancing with Danielle. And he was enjoying it, too.

I tried to smile, to be happy for him.

BUT HE WAS DANCING WITH DANIELLE!

A spark flashed in my mind. I pictured tossing Danielle over the side of the roof.

Whoa there, Timb…are you getting jealous?

Of Danielle? With Spot?

Nah.

Later that night, a little while after Danielle left, Spot grabbed me into a bear hug.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" He shouted with glee, literally lifting me off the ground and setting me back down again.

Once my feet were firmly on the ground, I looked up at him.

Only then did I realize that my heart had begun to beat faster.

It's just because he surprised you, I told myself, that's all.

But seeing him smile at me like that…

"Hey, teach!"

I focused on him again. I've got to stop drifting in and out like that. I mean, one of these days it'll get me into big trouble. That's what always happens to me-…

I was doing it again. I hate my brain. I looked into his eyes as he stood patiently. Wow, I thought. He had the prettiest eyes…

"Promise me something, Timb." He said suddenly, his expression serious, his hands on my shoulders.

I furrowed my brows in puzzlement. I could see the little gears in his head moving with thought. And that was never a good thing when it came to Spot Conlon. "Maybe…what?"

"No maybes." He said shaking his head. "I want a promise from you. Now, do you promise?"

"How am I supposed to promise something if I don't know what I'm promising? Have you lost it permanently?" I demanded. He only grinned at me.

"Okay, Timb. I want you to promise me that tomorrow you'll save the last dance for me. Sound good?" He asked, that stupid, silly, oddly attractive grin still on his face.

"What?" I asked. Well, actually, it was more of a squeak. I was too busy watching his mouth to entertain pure thought.

"Save the last dance for me. I find it only fair that I get to dance with my teacher, right?" He asked, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

Of course, you dolt, you're his teacher. He'd want to brag to you about how good he was, wouldn't he? Feeling an odd sense of disappointment in my gut that I later dismissed as a stomachache, I nodded. "Sure, Conlon. Whatever you say."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise Spot."

That night I began picking at my clothes. Did he really like those frilly- dressed-girls?

Well, damn it… I could be like that, too.

With only two days left to the dance…I began looking for something to wear.

Then I realized I had reached a new low. I suck. I was going to wear a dress to the dance. I was actually GOING to the dance, and I was going to try to impress Spot Conlon.

I had never been more excited.