Parts of the fiction novel as I create the first drafts of You’re the One: The True Story of Jack and Jill.
That memory should go down as one of the happiest experiences of my teen life. It is the most memorable, but in more ways than one.
Prom is at 7:00 pm, but I leave to pick Jill up at her huge two-story home at 5:00. Our first stop is at a pre-prom party at the Country Club. All this is new to me. The Country Club is like a mansion, and it is decorated beautifully. I must eat dinner in a rented suit and behave politely and properly while doing it. We don’t say grace before we eat. I have attended fancy banquets, but none compared to this.
After dinner, Jill and I mingle a little at the Country Club with mostly Jill’s friends who seem to be more comfortable in the surroundings and with the whole procedure. Finally, we leave to the prom. On the way there, I suddenly feel nervous. I’m in an unknown territory and headed to a whole new bag of unfamiliar experiences. I know so little about prom, I don’t even know what to be nervous about.
I follow Jill’s lead most of the night, even sometimes dancing. I do dance, in case you wondered. Whether it is a modern or slow dance, I feel silly. What keeps me trying is when I look around most of my classmates dance rather awkwardly. I also love dancing with Jill.
Watching her body move helps me understand why some adults oppose modern dance. There are a few of my classmates that move their bodies suggestively leaving little to the imagination even of a naïve and sheltered Baptist preacher’s son. Chaperones quickly speak to those they catch gyrating sensually. Jill and I are never spoken to by a chaperone.
Prom lasts until 10:00 pm. Jill spends most of that time with me. We dance five or six dances. I’m guessing because I didn’t count. We talk with friends. At one point, when she is crowned Prom Queen, we are apart. J.C. Barrett is crowned King. Pictures taken of Prom Queen and King and their court seem to take a long time. I can only watch at a distance.
Following those ceremonies, classmates seem to swarm around us with congratulations of multiple sounding degrees of sincerity. I notice Jill becomes distant at times. She becomes quiet and melancholy.
“We are invited to an after-prom party,” Jill says, “Do you want to go?”
Jill’s voice is dark and heavy with the question. I perceive that she may not actually wish to go. I had no idea there existed a phenomenon for after prom.
“I will have to call my parents and let them know, but I don’t think there’d be a problem with it as long as they know where I am,” I try to convince myself as well as assure Jill that this is true.
Jill nods assent. Her reaction is missing the usual Jill Norris enthusiasm.
“I don’t want to go if you don’t want to,” I respond questioning Jill’s lack of enthusiasm.
“We probably should. Jenny and I have been friends since grade school. She will be hurt if I don’t show up,” Jill squeezes my hand. “Call your dad and let him know.”
Jill leads me by the hand. The Perry High School ’68 Prom Queen is leaving the prom thirty minutes early. Unknown to me, this is somewhat controversial, although not unprecedented, that the Queen of the Prom leaves before the actual lights out of the prom. I never call my dad. They don’t know Jenny’s parents, so probably wouldn’t approve. I decided forgiveness is easier to get than permission.
In my Chevy which I spent the early afternoon washing, waxing and detailing inside and outside, I glance at Jill who has cuddled up closer against me more than ever before. She is staring at me. Her eyes sparkling bluer, her lips rosier, her skin smoother and creamier than I’ve ever noticed after several marvelous dates together.
A strange but wonderfully warm feeling radiates from somewhere inside of me. It is different from the hormonal desires that often arrest my emotions when Jill and I are physically close. Those desires are also here, too, yet not the predominant feelings.
I can’t believe I’m thinking it, but Dad was right. Jill has seemed special to me since junior high. Yet, at this moment, it seems as if our hearts beat as one. I no longer want to attend a crowded after prom party. The only person I want to share with me the rest of this night is Jill. And I never want the rest of this night to end.
“Would you mind if we didn’t go to the party?” Jill says. It’s like she’s saying them as I’m thinking these words.
My heart nearly pounds out of my chest, “I just want to do what you want, Jill. I just want to be with you.”
Jill folds my right arm into her arms and presses tight against me. I can feel the warmth of her body, the softness of her breasts and feel her breath against my cheek. I nearly lose control of the car.
“Can we drive up to Highpoint for a while before you take me home?” Jill says it before I think it this time.
I become both excited and nervous.
Categories: Sample writing
Douglas Knight
I write about what I'm thinking or what I've imagined in an effort to regain that childhood imagination and marry with my many years of real experiences. I'm getting better at it the more I write.I am a published author of two romantic intrigue novels.My books can be found at Amazon.com or if you want a personalized copy, by emailing me at douglasknight85@gmail.com.
Knight Writer 