May 1968
As the Prom Court assembled in the foyer, Angela took her place in line, still not fully convinced she was there. The doors opened, and the first thought that struck her was that the ballroom was glowing. The chandeliers, the candelabras, the glittering streamers, and the crystal teardrops dangling from the ceiling all created a dazzling display of light.
The dance floor was overflowing with couples. All of their faces were alive and shining with youth and energy. The boys looked more like men in their tuxedos with their hair slicked back, and the girls had acquired a polished sophistication in their formal gowns that showcased every color imaginable.
Angela had chosen a pale blue dress for her senior prom. It was strapless with an empire waist that hid some of the flaws she insisted on seeing in her figure. Even though her mother had told her she looked beautiful, she couldn't help feeling a bit inadequate next to all of her classmates.
Beside her, Bradly Donovan looked exceptionally handsome in his white jacket and black bow tie. She looked up at him and smiled as their names were announced and they followed the pair in front of them through the crowd to the stage.
The class president, Peggy McGee, stood at the podium reading the names of those on court, and the anticipation began to mount. The band had ceased its playing, the lights had dimmed so that the spotlights could highlight the five boys and five girls on stage, all vying for the coveted title of Prom King and Queen.
Angela could scarcely believe she was among those few students lucky enough to be nominated for such a coveted honor. She didn't know whether to hug or strangle Peggy for submitting her name. Her ears were buzzing so loudly that Peggy's voice became a distant hum that did clear up until applause erupted when George Ellet was named King. But within moments, the hush descended once again while Peggy slowly and deliberately opened the envelop that held the name of the one girl who would get that time-honored title. Angela's lungs felt ready to explode as she held her breath, bracing herself for the punch of rejection she knew she wouldn't be able to prevent when her name wasn't called.
The words came out hours apart — or so it seemed. "And your 1968 Prom Queen is ... Angela Robinson!"
Angela stood there immobilized until she felt Bradley tugging her to the stage to hand her off to George, the new King. On knees that were threatening to buckle with every step, Angela made her way to center stage to accept her tiara and roses. George, with his crown perched precariously on his head, took her hand, bowed, and asked formally, "May I have this dance."
The tears came copiously, hastened it seemed by the applause and cheers that came from every corner of the room. But over the din, the band could be heard playing the opening strings of the class song, "Unchained Melody." And as Angela was led around the room on George's arm, she knew dreams did come true.