Todd Edison was going to vomit.

And it was not the Taco Bell burrito he had forced himself to eat.  Though the grease was not helping one bit.

The feeling of nausea had begun early that morning when he was out in the fields.  It had only gotten worse as 6:00 approached.  By 5:30 as his mom helped tie his tie, the feeling had turned into cold sweats, clammy palms, and shaky legs.

“Don’t fret, dear,” his mother tsked.  “You’re such a handsome young man, she’d be silly not to dance with you.  You two might even go steady.”

Any reply Todd might have had got choked off as his mother drove the tie knot into his throat.  Any of the nasty comments he reserved for when his mother started talking like she did during her youth in the ice age were forgotten as he struggled to keep from losing his lunch in the living room.

A cool wind blew across his face at just the right the moment, giving his poor stomach a moment of relief.  He tried to straighten himself and stretch, but if he moved too fast or too much, the tie reintroduced itself to his neck.  He wanted to take the damn thing off, but girls liked a man who could dress up.

The door to the Taco Bell opened behind him and the feeling like he was going to puke kicked him in the gut.  Again.  Clenching his fists, he braced himself for the inevitable, turning one foot at a time, but it was only Maggie and Jo Anne.

Maggie giggled. “Easy there cowboy.  It’s just us.”  Both girls broke out into a fit of laughter.

Todd’s plans for this evening were not exactly the best kept secret, but only because he had to involve his friends as co-conspirators.  “Very funny.  I thought she went in the bathroom with you two.”

Jo Anne, who was a tall as Maggie was short and as raven haired as Maggie was fair and red, shrugged.  “Sometimes it takes a lady a few moments.  You’re not getting nervous, are you lover boy?”  More laughter.

“Shut up.  Just shut up.   Boyd and Brody are in their truck and Jim and them have already left.”

Jo Anne made a kissy face and walked off, the tail of her prom dress flowing of the broken concrete of the Taco Bell parking lot.  He turned to look at Maggie.

“This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?  She’s gonna know why you guys left.  She’s never gonna dance with me.”

            Maggie took both of his hands.  “Hey cowboy, stop worrying.  If anything the damage is already done.”

            “What?”

            “Well, if I was trying to win over the love of my life, I wouldn’t be wearing my daddy’s white shirt, Wranglers, and the shit kickers I had out on the field.  And the thin tie only looks cool if you’re emo.”

            Todd yanked his hand away.  “Maggie, what the hell?  This is all information that would have been useful yesterday, don’t you think?”

            Maggie shrugged.  “C’mon Todd, we all know your mom picked out the tie.”  She wrinkled her nose and did a perfect imitation of Wanda Edison.  “You look like such a handsome young man.”

            Todd laughed for a good half second before the need to puke reasserted itself.

            “Hey, Todd, we’ve known each other since we were three.  At some level, it’s kind of sad the month we dated in the fourth grade is last girlfriend you ever had.  At this point, fate owes you one.”

            “Maggie?”

            “Yes, Todd.”

            “I hate you.  Get the hell out of here.”

            She left him with a wicked grin and made her way slowly over to Brody’s F-350, trying not to trip in the unfamiliar heels the prom had forced upon her.

            The F-350, nicknamed the Luv Wagon despite Brody’s luck with women being worse than Todd’s, started with a roar like a stampede before dying down into merely the more soothing sound of rusty chainsaw.  Even before Maggie had been pulled into the high truck Brody was on the move.  Hard reverse.  Squeal of tires.  Maggie finally got the door shut and Brody stepped on the accelerator, the truck sounding like a pissed off elephant.

            “Make us proud, Romeo,” Boyd yelled as they drove by, toasting him with a 12 ounce can in a sleeve.

            Todd gave them the finger.

            Then he waited and hoped she’d get done peeing or whatever girls do in a bathroom before his daddy’s Sunday shirt got covered in nacho cheese.

            “Hey, where’d every one go?”

            There was a scene in Star Wars where one of the little alien guys shone a flash light on R2D2 and he locked up.  Todd froze just like that.  For at least an eternity Todd just stood there, his back to the Taco Bell’s exit.  Then he dry heaved.  Just a bit.

            It was enough to give him control over the muscles in his neck.  Slowly he rotated his head and looked at her.  Really looked at her for the first time all night.

Todd did not take looking at Amanda Stepheninsky.  He could tell you her hair was long and blonde and curly and knew most of her shoe collection by memory, but to look into Mandy’s face…

Pastor Tom once said that the face of God was perfect and beautiful, a mere mortal would go blind just to glimpse it.  Todd had spent a lot of time in the past three years since Mandy had moved to Ottawa thinking about that sermon while sitting in church.  He had long ago decided not to look at Mandy in the face just to be safe.

Which was why he could tell you that she owned three different colors of sneakers, but was only half sure that she had brilliant blue eyes and full lips.  He was also convinced she had a halo.  Or at least an heavenly aura.

“Uh, hi Mandy. Do you have any gum?”

She looked at him and wave a hand over her shiny golden dress.  “No pockets.”

            “Oh, um, sure.  Okay.  Thought maybe you might have a purse or something.”

            She shrugged.  “My bag’s in Boyd’s truck.”

            “Well it’s not important.  Taco breath’s probably not fatal. At least not yet.”  Taco Breath?  Really?

            She smiled, but it wasn’t a funny smile.  “Right, so everyone else go on?”

            “Yep.  They wanted to get to the dance and you were taking so long that they went.”

            “Sorry, can you pee in a dress and hose?”  Strike two.

            “Uh, uh.”

            “Didn’t think so, where’s your truck?”

            Todd pointed.

            She smiled.  This time there was humor, but Todd was fairly sure he was laughing at him.

            Todd started walking.  Stiffly.  “Um, right this way, my lady.”

            “You feeling okay, Todd.  You’re acting weird, even for you.”

            “No.  Fine.”

            Todd opened his door to get in and admired Mandy as she walked around to the outside and waited by the door.

            “It’s unlocked.”

            Mandy opened the door.  “Hey, Romeo, little help?”

            “Wha?  Oh.”  Todd scrambled out of the truck and half ran around to the other side of the truck.  He offered her his hand, which she took and half pulled herself into truck.  Part of her dress hung out the door, which Todd helpfully tossed into her lap.

            He slammed the door and ran back to his side and got into the truck where he was met by a look of surprise and more than a little irritation.  “What?”

            “I didn’t need that hand,” she said, holding up her right hand.  “I have two.  I could probably get by.”

            “What?  I didn’t…are you okay?  I’m sorry, I mean I didn’t…”

            “No, it’s fine.  I moved it out of the way.  Can we go?”

            “Sure, of course, got a junior prom we gotta get to,” Todd said.

            “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

            “It’s been a long week.”

            “Right.”

            The silence went beyond deafening into downright painful as Todd slowly reversed the truck and pulled out of the Taco Bell.

            “Can I turn the radio on?” Mandy asked after a minute.

            “Huh, oh, sure?”

            She flipped on the radio and hit the first preset, listened to the song for about two seconds before going on to the next.  Todd gritted his teeth.  He hated channel scanners.  Then again, there were things he could tolerate for Mandy Stepheninsky.  Finally she hit the first preset and shrugged.  Craig Morgan’s “Red Neck Yacht Club” filled the factory speakers.

            Todd looked at her and surprised himself by smirking.

            She rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, not my first choice, but it’s this or commercials.”

            “Oh, no this fine.  Big fan of red neck yacht clubs.”

            She half-smiled.  “So you think Johnny will be there?”

            There’s a scene in Star Wars where the planet blows up.  That was Todd’s heart.  John Dufresne was Todd’s nemesis.  Not only was he taller, more athletic, more popular, probably going to play college basketball somewhere, and was definitely not a poor farm boy, Todd always had a sneaking suspicion that Mandy had a thing for him.

            “I would think so.  Doesn’t every one go to prom?”

            “Yeah, I guess.  But John just seems like the kind who’d… I don’t know, skip it.  He’s such a rebel.”

            Todd was debating between responding with I’d like to rebel my foot up his ass and He farts and shits like everyone, I know, we had freshman PE together when she cut him off.

            “Oh, oh, turn that up.”

            He had not noticed that “Red Neck Yacht Club” had faded and now Taylor Swift’s “Our Song” was playing.  He went to turn up the volume, but before he could move Mandy had already cranked the volume to full.

            “’And he says/ our song is the slamming screen door / Sneakin’ out late, tapping on your window / Where we’re on the phone and you talk real slow / ‘Cause its late and your mama don’t know.’”

            Even at full volume, Todd could hear Mandy sing every word.  And she was good.  Really good.

            At the second chorus, Mandy started to get into it: head bopping, hand waving in the air, pointing.  “’Our song is the slamming screen door / Sneakin’ out late, tapping on your window / Where we’re on the phone and you talk real slow / ‘Cause its late and your mama don’t know.’”

            Todd had to smile.  Not so much because Mandy was so into the music, but because five minutes ago, he had hated Taylor Swift.  Now he just assumed she was singing to Johnny-fucking-Dufresne.

            “’Waited for something to come along / that was as good as our song’”

            Todd thought he recognized that line and sure enough, Mandy launched into the chorus, sounding just like Taylor.  At which point, Todd reached over and shut off the volume.  Mandy kept on going, eyes closed.

            “’Cause it’s late and your mama don’t know.  / Our song is the way he laughs.  / The first date man, I didn’t kiss him…”

            “’…But I should have.’”  Todd completed the line, talking.  Singing was not his strongpoint.

            Mandy blinked, red creeping across her cheeks.  “Um, sorry about that.”

            “No, no.  I just turned down the radio so I could hear you better.”

            “Uh, yeah.”

            “I didn’t know you sing.  How come you don’t do glee club?”

            Mandy shrugged.  “Just never did.  All the people and stuff.”

            “You, Amanda Stepheninsky, have stage fright?”

            “Yeah, sure, why?”

            “No reason.  Just wouldn’t have thunk it.”

            “Whatever, it’s no big deal.  Just don’t say anything.  I’m not real good.”

            “What, no, you’re really good.  You’d give Taylor Swift a run for her money any day.  Now, I have to say Craig Morgan pretty much kicks your ass with Hillbilly Yacht Club, but you know, no one’s perfect.”

            Mandy gave her first genuine smile of the ride.

            The junior prom committee, of which Maggie was chair, had selected the theme “Arabian Nights” for junior/senior prom.  To meet this theme, they committee had constructed a “mountain” out of construction paper and paint donated by the local Sherwin Williams and had run gold ribbon out through most of the gym.  Vice Principle Peterson was making everyone say “Open Sesame” to get in.  That was the extent of the decorations.  Not even Peterson was wearing a costume or anything.

            The students of Ottawa High School themselves might have been the best decoration.  The gym was filled almost to capacity with guys dressed mainly in jeans and girls in expensive prom dresses, some of which had even been bought up in Kansas City or down in Topeka.  Just about everyone was standing around in small groups talking except for a few girls in the middle of the gym, sloppily trying to do the Cottoneye Joe.

            “Oh, I love the song.  Thanks for the ride Todd,” Mandy said as she ran towards the middle of the gym.

            “Sure thing,” he called to her back.  “Love you,” he muttered under his breath.

            Well, if anything was for certain she ran well in high heels.  “And she looks good doing it,” he said to no one in particular.

            “I assume things didn’t go well,” Jo Anne said as she sidled up to him.

            “’Bout like I expected actually.”

            She laughed.  “Here maybe this will help,” she said and stuffed a bright yellow purse to match Mandy’s dress into his chest.

            “What the hell am I supposed to do with this Jo Anne?” as she walked off

            “Be a gentleman and hold if for her.”

            Todd shook his head.  “Women.”

            “Nice purse,” Ron Preston said as he walked by.

            He looked over to make sure the vice principal was not looking and flipped Preston and his buddies the bird.

            Todd’s main problem with dances was that he hated dancing.  His mama had always said he loved it when he was a boy, but high school Todd Edison did not dance.  He spent most of the first hour standing near the back of the gym with his back turned to the dance floor, sharing nips of whatever piss Boyd had stolen from his daddy’s liquor cabinet.  It burned all the way down like only cheap whiskey could.

            Still every now and then he would find himself turned around, watching Mandy gyrate the fast songs, line dance to those songs, and slow dance first with Tommy Williams and then with Preston.

            “She doesn’t have much of rack on her, does she?” Boyd said as Todd watched Mandy thank Preston for the dance.  “But holy shit is she hot.  WOOOO!”  Boyd had started the party long before prom.

“Shut the fuck up Boyd.  Give me that,” he took a belt of whiskey.

            In a fitting sense of irony, the disc jokey, who had only graduated from Ottawa last year, put on the song “Hooch.”

            “Oh, did I hurt your widdle feelings.  I so sowwy.”

            But Todd was not listening to Body’s baby talk.  There was a commotion going on at the front of the gym, like at last year’s snow dance when Danny and Dennis Davidson got into a fight over who was going to get the last dance with Tammy Avard.  The twins had gotten a week suspension for that.

            “Something’s going on.  Come on, guys.”

            There was definitely a buzz in the gym.  The dancing had come to a halt and people were filtering to the front.  Even at six foot, three inches, Todd had to fight forward before he could see what was causing the ruckus.

            Brody saw it first.  “Holy shit,” he did a quick check to make sure a teacher wasn’t near.  “Holy shit.  Look at Dufresne, that boy looks pimp.  And look at that girl he’s with.”

            “It’s funny you mentioned Dufresne first, fag,” Boyd answer.

            “I’m not a fag, you’re a fag.”

            “I’m not a fag, Todd’s a fag.  He carries a purse.  Fag.”

            “Why don’t you two go make out and shut the hell up?  Who is that girl?”

            Objectively, Todd would have to say the tall, leggy brunette in a long dark dress that probably had come from farther away than Kansas City was probably the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  Subjectively, he had not forgotten about his almost-but-not-quite-perfectly-disastrous ride to the dance and the woman he had come to woo.  But still, whoever Dufresne’s date to the dance was probably a twelve.  Maybe a thirteen.

            And to make matters weirder, Dufresne was wearing a tuxedo, complete with cane.

            “I don’t know, but I want me a piece of that,” Brody said.

            “No you don’t, you’re a fag.”

            “Shut up with the fag talk already,” Todd said.

            “What?  No.  Dude, Boyd, looks like Todd wants Johnny’s other woman now.  What is it with you and Johnny Dufresne’s sloppy seconds.”

            Todd elbowed Brody.  Hard.

            The song changed from Hooch back to another slow song, which drew a few strange looks, but quickly enough the boys and girls pair off.  Todd saw Mandy walk towards Johnny, but was stopped short as he offered his date his hand and the walked like a king and queen to the dance floor where they proceeded to dance body-to-body to “She’s My Kind of Rain” by Tim McGraw.

            “Now’s my chance,” Todd said out loud, but as he started to walk over, Tommy Williams was back for a second dance. 

“Fuck,” he said loud enough people stopped dancing to look at him.  “What are you looking at?”

            “Are you feeling okay, Todd?” someone shouted back.

            Todd started to slink back to the rear of the gym when a redheaded blur intercepted him.  “Hi, Todd.  Let’s dance,” Maggie said.

            “Oh, hi Maggie, sure.”

            Todd swayed along to the music with Maggie and did not really pay much attention to the fact their bodies were as close as Dufresne’s and the mystery woman.  This was Maggie.  They had played doctor when they were kids.  On a dare, she’d shown him her girl parts. 

When her dad had to travel for business, she spent the night and they stayed up late nights talking about the future.  How she wanted to be the next Tim McGraw and how he was more than happy to try and seduce the current Mrs. Tim McGraw to make it happen.  How she wanted to start a family and live in Ottawa while he was strongly thinking he might go to school.  Maybe K-State for a couple of years.

            By the time the slow dance was over, the small town rumor mill was running at full speed.  Dufrense’s date was named Lily and she was a model.  Or her name was Sandra and she a college professor.  Or a girl he knew from where he lived before.  They were dating.  They were engaged.  They were certainly going to do it tonight.

            Todd didn’t know what to believe.  He did know that he was thrilled that woman was here.  The more Dufresne danced with her, the less time he would spend with Mandy.

            “I still have to talk to her at some point,” he thought out loud.

            “Talk to who?” asked a familiar voice.

            “Huh, oh, you.”  Todd told Mandy.  “Here’s your purse.”

            “Thanks, how did you end up with it?”

            “I don’t know, ask Jo Anne.”

            “Sure.  Well, thanks I got it now,” she said.  “Hey, do you know that girl is that Johnny is dancing with?”

            “No, I was wondering the same thing myself.”

            “Okay, thanks,” she said and walked back to the dance floor, her heels clacking audibly.

            He watched her walk off and realized that his best chance for asking for a dance was walking away with her.  Given the way she was holding court on the dance floor, it was going to be impossible to get her attention to ask for a dance before some other bozo tried.  Unless…

            Todd walked over to the DJ.  “Hey Paul, do you have that Objection Tango song?”

            Paul and Todd had had geometry together.  In fact, Paul had copied most of the answers to the final off Todd’s test.  “By Shakira?  I think so.”

            “Dude, it’s not for me.  It’s for, uh, Maggie.”

            “Oh sure, here it is.  I’ll play it after this next song.”

            “Cool.  Thanks.  Hey, can you do me one more favor.  After Shakira, play Our Song, would you?  You know, by Taylor Swift?”

            “No Our Song.  I got Tim McGraw.”

            “That will work.  Thanks.”

            Todd smiled and walked over to where Dufresne was surrounded by most of the basketball team and their dates.  None of them acknowledged him for a few minutes until finally Dufresne nodded.  “Edison, what’s going on?”

            “Same shit, different day.  Thought I’d say what’s up.”

            “Oh, figured you’d come to see what a real woman looks like.  Man, this gym is full of girls.”  All of Johnny’s friends nodded in unison until the dates smacked them.

            “Yeah, uh, sorry, Todd Edison,” Todd wiped his hand on his shirt and extended it to the woman.

            She looked down at it, rolled her eyes, and went back to studying her finger nails.  “Ursala.”

            Todd looked down at his hand and lowered it.  “Hi Ursala.”

            “Quite,” she said and went back to seriously not paying attention to him.

            “Ursala here is from Russia.”

            “Ukraine.”

            “Whatever.  She’s a theatre major up at KU.  Not that I’ll hold that against her.”  He coughed into his hand.  “Go Wildcats.”  He coughed again.  “But don’t you have someone you need to be going, Edison?”

            The song hand changed.  The next one would be Shakira.  “Yeah, I think do.”

            Todd slowly meandered back towards the middle of the gym where the girls and a few guys were dance/singing “Mustang Sally.”  Todd started to shake his shoulders and sing.  “You better slow your Mustang down…”

            Sally Jacobs, who obviously had requested the song saw Todd and let out a happy “wooo” at him and the two were dancing and signing.  As much as Todd could do either.

            And then the song was over and it was Tango time.  The dancing stopped as everyone tried to get the rhythm and then pretty much started shaking to the beat.  But not Todd, this time his plan was going to work.  He loosened his tie and walked over to Mandy who was into her groove.

            “Mandy?”

            “Oh, hi Todd.”

            “Do you know how to Tango?”

            The surprise was noticeable.  “Kind of.”

            Todd reached out with his left hand and in a flourish, ripped his ugly black tie off with his right.  “Let’s dance.”

            She clapped and took his hand.

            History might always remember that as perhaps the worst tango in the history of dance. Neither of them seemed to mind.  The only thing that mattered was by the end of the dance, Todd had dipped Mandy Stepheninsky twice without dropping her, had managed to avoid stepping on her toes, and had not wince too bad when she stepped on his twice.  Perhaps even better was the fact by the end of the song, his tie was draped around her shoulders.

            And then, right on cue, Shakira faded out into “Tim McGraw.”  Mandy never left his arms as they danced.  “It’s almost like you planned this,” she whispered halfway through the song.

            The radio was not quite as loud as Todd drove Mandy home.  “Okay, where did you learn to dance?”

            “My mom taught me.  On rainy days when we couldn’t be out in the fields, sometimes she’d grab me and my lil’ brother and try to turn us into dancers.  Never worked. Hard to turn a farmboy into a ballerina.”

            “I don’t know, you did okay,” Mandy said as she reached down to pull of her shoe.

            “What are you doing?”

            “Hey, you try walking around in this?” she held up the yellow strappy shoe, heel first.

            “I’m not saying that.  It’s just, I mean, your feet.”

            She smacked him with the shoe, but was laughing.

            “Maybe I should take off my boots to cover up the smell.”

            “Oh yeah, that’ll work.  And what you mean my feet smell?  I’m a girl.  I sweat sugar and spice.  I smell yummy.”  She found a haughty smile to match Ursala’s.

            “Bullshit.”

            They giggled all the way to her house.  Todd walked her to her front door, holding hands the entire way, and waved at Mrs. Stepheninsky through the big window.

            “Well, good night,” she said.

            Todd froze.  Suddenly every rule of how to handle this situation flooded his poor brain when all he really wanted to do was plant one on her.

            And then she opened the door and walked inside.

            Fail.  Todd screamed in his mind.  Still, he figured he had nothing to lose so at her back he started humming the part in Our Song about not kissing on the first date.  She stopped, turned back and smiled.

            “This isn’t our first date, Todd.”