Page 16 of The Lookback

Tommy squeezes my hand, and then he takes over for me, singing his part, the one-two-three and the shall we dance stanzas. Until I manage to join him with “Or perchance.”

Then we can spin around, doing our own parts and movement until I ask again, “Shall you be my new romance?” And I turn to look at him, and his knowing half smile makes that thing in my stomach flip overagain.Even harder this time.

Blessedly, I pull myself together well enough to sing the next part, and execute the little misalignments that make everyone laugh. Until then Tommy says, “That’s not right. We’re not supposed to be dancing holding two hands like this.”

My voice is breathy and stupid when I say, “No, as a matter of fact. . .”

And then Tommy’s hand reaches for my waist, his eyes intent on mine, and he says, “My hand should be here, like this.” His half-smile, with those intense eyes. . .

I lose my breath. I can’t even think. I simply stare at him.

“No?” he asks in a deep voice. “Like this?”

I can’t even say yes. I just nod.

And he pulls me closer. And closer. Until our faces are right beside one another. I feel the minty cloud of his breath and the heat radiating off his body. I drop my eyes to his mouth, which is just a little open.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I want to, but I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” I whisper back.

And then the music surges and he sweeps me in a circle, and then more of them, swirling me around the dance floor smoothly, with the same grace I see when he ropes a calf, when he swings up on his bike carrying two backpacks, and when he forces horses to back up, move out, and spin effortlessly.

I’m barely able to breathe when we finally stop. He stares at me in a way I’ve never seen—it makes me feel things I’ve never felt. I can’t help being grateful that Jed was sick.

I might have been confused before, but not now. All I can think about is Tommy. I definitely like him. I like him a lot.

He lifts one hand and brushes it against my cheek. “Shall we dance again?”

I’m laughing with joy when the curtain closes, and Tommy’s hand is still on my cheek.

“That’s enough, now.” Mrs. Rasmussen grabs my wrist and drags me away. “Scene change.”

But after the play, I’m determined that I will say something to him. I have to at least find out whether it’s all just the magic of the play, or whether he might like me, too. I can just ask what he meant when he said he wants to but he can’t. That’s a normal question, right? It’s not a line from the play.

But when the play ends, the audience swarms us. It’s normal, for a small town like this, where everyone knows everyone. My parents brought me wildflowers, and even Tommy’s mother brought blooms for him.

Jed’s mother brought me daisies, and I can’t help wondering where she found them. It’s not like Manila has a florist. “Thank you so much,” I say. “I’m so sorry Jed’s sick.”

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Brooks wrings her hands. “He told me I had to come anyway, and that the play is really something,” she says. “He was so right. He really enjoyed working on it, to be honest. I bet you can get him to try out again for the next one.”

By the time I finish talking to her, a half dozen other people are waiting to talk to me, and by the time I’ve finally thanked everyone for their kind wishes, I can’t find Tommy at all.

“You’re looking for Tommy, aren’t you?” Mrs. Rasmussen asks.

I nod.

“I thought something looked. . .electric between you two.” She’s smirking, and I hate it.

“No, nothing like that,” I say. “I just wanted to tell him that he did a great job.”

“I think he left—Jed’s mother had already left when we realized his lunch pail was still here. I didn’t want him to worry about having lost it, so I asked Tommy to drop it off and tell him how the show went, too.”

If I hurry home, maybe I can catch him on the way. Jed’s house is just before mine, anyway. My mom waves, but I point at my bike. “I’ll meet you at home,” I say.

There’s no way I could have explained that I need to be let out by Jed’s house. They’d either realize that I liked Tommy, or they’d worry that I liked Jed. Either way, it would have created too many questions I don’t want to answer. So when my mom tries to tell me she and Dad can put my bike in the car, I’m stuck being forceful.

“Mom, I need to take a little ride to clear my head.”

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