High School of Music and Art - Recolte Yearbook (New York, NY)

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I stood there with three friends, and I was lucky, because it was a very unfriendly gym, in spite of the hordes that inhabited it. We commented on the state of each other's dresses, of which we were very proud. Now I know that I was hopelessly out of style, my skirt was too long, and I was wearing at least five crinolines. CThis was a rather unsuccessful revival of the ante-bellum South.J No one had asked us to dance, and we were lidgeting. Finally a boy came up to me. He was almost palatable, with a minimum of blemishes, and he was only two or three inches shorter than I was. Wanna dance? Okay.', We started dancing to one of the slower rock ln' roll tunes. His hands were very clammy. You go to Musicanart? he mumbled. Yeah, I said. E What termyin? 'Tm a freshman. ss I'm a junior. This was the extent of our conversation, except for the frequent intervals when he stepped on my toe and said excuse me. At lirst I had wondered at my good luck, and gloated at the fact that my friends were standing in the place that I had left them, not dancing, just looking at me enviously. Here I was, insignificant little freshman, dancing with a Junior. A big, handsome Junior. No, certainly not big, and not handsome either. Then I began to wonder: what am I dancing with this schnurd for? So we stopped dancing. Actually, we stopped because the music was over. But, to me, it was like a Message From Above. I was all prepared to tell him I wouldn't dance with him again when he walked away. He didn't say Thank you or g'Good-bye or anything. He just walked away. And the funniest thing was, I didn't even know his name. Lorne Grundy

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7 ff fy X PCI' loves me, aps lwiu, be a leopard soon Joan Soleil