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“Looks like she’s all booked up.” Logan leans across the table and smacks Roy’s left shoulder.

Rubbing the spot Logan tapped, Roy sneers his way. “That doesn’t seem to bother you.”

Andrew’s and Ken’s gaze bounces between the two. “Come on, Roy, let’s go.” Ken tugs on Roy’s shirt. “See ya, Logan.”

Andrew stands, an indifferent expression on his face as he waves our direction, then follows after his friends.

“You’ve probably got homework this weekend anyway, Roy,” Logan calls.

“Is that necessary? You said he was harmless.” I quirk a brow.

He exhales a puff of air and taps his lunch tray with his fork. “The most important person to Roy is Roy.”

“He’s what, eighteen? That doesn’t surprise me.”

“True. But I’d wager that’s never changing for Roy Cox. He likes himself too much to think of anyone else.”

“Hmm. I’m not worried—I mean, if my baby sister were here, I might be.”

Logan breathes out a laugh.

I knit my brows, my mind stuck on something Lucille said earlier. “Are you really the only twenty-something-year-old in this town?”

Again, his dimple hollows. “The only single one, yes.”

“Wow.” I shift in my seat. “That’s… weird.”

“It’s normal here.”

I sip from my milk carton, thinking about Logan—Adonis-like Logan—being the only single young adult in this place. “How do you meet people?”

“I get lucky every now and then.” He shrugs. “I met you, didn’t I?”

There’s a nervous inflection in my laugh that I’m not very fond of. “That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you asked.”

Seventeen

June 26, 1955

Philip Harlem is not only boring, but he can’t even dance a simple stroll.

However, Daddy was thrilled when Uncle Herb told him the news. He even sent over a new dress for my date with Phil. I asked Mother to send one of my books too, but I guess Dad wouldn’t let her. At least, there wasn’t one to be found in the package. Thankfully, Uncle Herb isn’t opposed to me going to the local library. There aren’t a lot of options; this is Ganesworth after all. Still, it’s better than nothing.

Back to the dance. Philip’s father let him take his new Chevrolet. He came with the top down. It changed my mind about the night. For a moment, I thought it might be magical and something worth writing about. We arrived a half hour late—I think Phil did that on purpose. He likes to make an entrance.

I was surprised to see the parking lot of Ganesworth School completely full of people. Cars lined the outside of the lot, and there was a dance floor and band set up on the actual parking spaces.

The warm evening air tickled my skin. And the stars lit the night. My silvery-blue dress sparkled in the moonbeams. I could hardly wait to get on the dance floor. The night truly started out peachy.

However, the minute we arrived, Philip paraded me around to his little friends. I spent the first hour watching other people dance while Phil talked about himself and his future. He didn’t even speak to me, but to everyone around us. I was just an ornament.

When he finally went quiet for two seconds, I asked him, “How do you like dancing? The Madison is one of my favorites.” I thought since that dance had just started, it would be a good hint that I was ready to dance!

All Philip Harlem said was, “I’m not a lover of dancing.”

I wanted to scream, ‘THEN WHY ON EARTH DID YOU BRING ME TO A DANCE?’ I’m a lady, so of course I did not.