Sammy and Jenny at the Eighth Grade Dance

I invite you to read my latest flash fiction story.

Life is supposed to be lived with all or nothing courage. I kept this thought close to my heart when I walked up to Jenny at the dance. Sammy, play it cool. Play it cool, Sammy. This thought raced through my mind at a million miles per hour. It might’ve even been one billion miles an hour.

And there was Jenny in her beauty without a cup of punch. I wondered if she was a blue punch sort of lady or a red punch gal. I decided to ask her. “Jenny, what kind of lady are you?”

“Excuse me?” she said as her face turned the color of one of the punch options.

“Are you a blue punch lady or a red punch lady? I’d like to bring you a cup of punch, but I did not know whether you liked the red or the blue type.”

“Oh, I understand now.” Jenny smiled as she said, “Bring me the blue kind. Blue is always the best.”

“I as well greatly enjoy the blue. Two blues coming right up! Now don’t dance away on me with some taller boy in the twenty seconds I am gone. Do you promise me you’ll stay?”

“You are funny, Sammy!”

“Funny is what I aim for. But don’t be talking about my looks like that. You’ll give this guy a complex.”

Jenny laughed. That laugh went together well with the band playing music. Thirty seconds later I had two cups of the blue type of gymnasium dance punch. And Jenny had not danced away with a taller man. Hallelujah! Pass the punch!

“I would ask you to dance if I wasn’t holding these two cups. Would you like to sit with me over on the bleachers? I am really much better at sitting and talking than I am at dancing.”

“I’d love to accompany you on the bleachers. Honestly, I’m not a very good dancer either.”


So the awesomest young lady at the eighth grade dance joined me for blue punch for two and I knew it was the greatest day in the entire history of great days. Time can crawl like a tortoise or it can soar like an eagle. I wanted the night to be the tortoise but instead it was all eagle. When 10:00 PM arrived Jenny and I had drunk the last of the best kind of punch.

“Jenny, this has been the greatest night of my life.”

“Well, we are only fourteen,” Jenny replied.

Then we smiled at each other and that moment was perfect.

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