At least I got asked to the Prom

The other day my daughter, Lydia, and I were having a conversation about something that led her to ask the question about my going to proms in high school.

Well, I never went to a prom or a dance. I never had a date in high school. I was the quiet girl that had would only sit at the front of the classroom by seat assignment. Err...seat assignments.
But it brought up a memory I have of being asked to the Junior/Senior prom in 1974. It was Bruce Dalen who asked me.

We met in Typing class. We had the newest in typewriter technology.... a sweet, Corona electric typewriter. Imagine the hum of 25 of those all clacking away at the same time.

Bruce sat right behind me. I don't remember how we even got started talking. I just remember he has a great sense of humor. Sometimes, we would throw a few witty words back and forth at each other during class, which was easy because it didn't seem like the teacher cared, and the din made it so know one could really hear us anyway.

Thinking back I can see the top of his mop of blond hair and his big shiny wire frame glasses looking over the typewriter roll bar. He could not have been more than about 4"8'.
The word on the street (school hall way) was that he was short because of a glandular problem and he was getting shots to grow taller. I never asked him about this because I thought it would be rude. It didn't really matter to me why he was short, I thought he was a nice person.

During Spring Quarter talk began about Prom. I had made plans to go to Klamath Falls for a youth retreat. I was relieved to have plans for that weekend. I assumed there would be no chance of anyone asking me to the prom that same weekend. I wanted to have something I could tell my friends I was doing in place of it. After all, even though I knew I would be petrified to actually have a prom date I didn't want to look like a loser with no plans at all.

One day while a friend (who will remain nameless-you'll learn why soon enough) and I were doing our daily lunch ritual of walking around the halls avoiding eye contact with other kids walking around the hallways. It was an easy way to check other people out...who's a couple, how they acted and what everyone was wearing...but then act like I didn't care one iota.

Just before our right curve at the Biology Lab Bruce and his twice as tall friend (seemed that way) came scooting up. My 'friend' stands right behind me leaning against the lockers. A couple seconds go by and we've all made semi-good eye contact.

"Hey, Julie, I was wondering if you'd like to go to prom with me?" I was shocked...and flattered...and panicked all at the same time. My eyes veered to the floor, and then I hear something like a locker door slamming behind me. All three of us look up to see my 'friend'
hitting the locker with her fist, her head leaning against it laughing hysterically.

Grrr...

I think my answer fell on slightly deaf ears. He heard 'No', even though I gave him an explanation. Thinking back, I am not sure what my facial expression looked like with my embarrassment growing because of the scene behind me. I always felt they may have misinterpreted what my face was showing was embarrassment towards them.
My ridiculous hall-partner was growing red in the face from laughter.

I wanted to strangle her.

I have thought through this scenario many times since I was 16. Mostly, when telling others stories about my high school years. I know I had wanted to run down the hall and apologize to Bruce. I know I had wanted to never speak to that 'friend' again.
I remember standing in the middle of the hallway watching him and his tall friend turn the corner knowing he was hurt and angry.
As boldly as I could I told my 'friend' off. Which isn't saying much, because it was about a tenth of what I'm able to do now.

To say the least, having someone hurt and mad because of me, was terrible. Whether I imagined it or not, it seemed like he went out the way to avoid me; I caught his tall friend scowling at me a couple of times. It seems like he didn't even show up at typing class the rest of that quarter.

The whole incident became an invisible little sliver I could not pull out. I prayed for something to happen so he'd know I was still his friend. If I could just catch his eye during band practice and give him a little reassuring smile. But he wouldn't look at me.

The following year, I was a junior and he was a senior. One day it happened. We both came out of different doors into a skinny hallway by the band room. He was smiling thinking about something and with my best effort gave him full eye contact with a big smile. He smiled back and said something funny. We chuckled.

The curse was lifted. We were friends again.