Page 100 of Ancient History

Rosalee? She was all smiles as her hands tapped on her desk. Was this a revolt? The inmates about to take over the asylum?

“What’s going on?” I asked nervously, trying to maintain some semblance of order.

Dale tapped on his desk.

Then Reyansh.

I took a step back toward my desk, wishing I had those secret buttons bank tellers had.

“Someone tell me what is going on right now?” I used my firm teacher voice.

The girl in the front row left corner held up a piece of paper with a large, bold P written on it. The boy one row over held up an R. Rosalee held up the O. Then one row over from her, another student held the M. The boy in the right corner held up a question mark.

I rolled my eyes.

“What did I say? No promposals in class. Save it for after. The bell is ringing in ten minutes.”

Still, they did not listen. In the second row, the five kids across held up five pieces of paper.

P-R-O-M-?

Then the third row.

And the fourth.

They were all in on it. Which meant this wasn’t a promposal for a kid in my class.

But for…

Hutch strode into the classroom holding a heart-shaped poster that askedPROM?

“Mr. Bright,” Hutch said, all clean-shaven perfection.

He handed me the poster, his metaphorical heart.

“You’ve been holding onto a raincheck for ten years. This time, we’re going to right the wrongs of the past. Amos Bright, will you go to prom with me?”

Every single student leaned forward in their chair, hanging on my answer. If only I could get them to be this engaged with our regular lessons.

Hutch stood there, lips slightly pouted, heart in my hands.

“Yes.”

The class went wild. We were going to attract the attention of all neighboring classrooms, but I’d happily tell the story of how my class was interrupted for the greatest promposal in history.

I threw my arms around Hutch’s neck and kissed him softly. No making out in front of students.

The class continued to clap and cheer. Music poured from Reyansh’s phone. The day couldn’t get any better.

Maybe promposals weren’t as corny as I thought.

* * *

The nightof the game against North Point was an unusually chilly spring night, but I prepared with hoodies and blankets.

Chase and Everett joined me in the bleachers to cheer on the Huskies, while Julian went to the concession stand to get us hot chocolate.

“Did they design bleachers to be as uncomfortable as possible, or is that a perk?” Everett adjusted himself with no luck.

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