Polar Opposites

Late May- Prom

“So do you have a secret crush on Vasquez or do you just have a huge problem with Courtney?” He asked.

            “Eww. No, that’s gross. We’re just best friends, and he’ll tell you the same thing. Courtney’s just…you know…Courtney.”

            “I kind of see what you mean. She’s pretty, but her personality isn’t.”

            “Then why did you ask her to go with you?”

            He shrugged. “I was going to ask someone else, but by the time I got the guts to ask her, she was already going with someone else.” He paused. “What are you doing after the dance?”

            I looked at him skeptically. “My friends and I are hanging at my house. Why?”

            “I’m having a party after at my house. Bring your friends, and don’t forget Carlos. I don’t want to break up the two lovebirds.” He nodded his head toward our dates.

I shrugged. “I’ll see what the group thinks. Maybe we’ll stop by for a while.” I looked around at the crowd, and saw something that made me scoff involuntarily.

“What?” Jake asked, following my gaze.

“There’s a senior and a freshmen here together.” I nodded over to where they were slow dancing. “He’s almost 19, and she’s 15.” I commented with disgust apparent in my voice.

Jake laughed and shook his head. “She’s too young for you, bro.” He mumbled. “Why is it always a senior guy and a freshmen girl? Why is it never the other way around?” He looked to me for an answer.

Luckily, I had debated this topic before at Hazel’s house with our two other best friends, Meg Adams, and Alicia Seabrooke, and I had the answer. “Because at 15, girls discover eyeliner and ditch the training bras for tube tops. At 15, boys are still scrawny and awkward, and still playing dungeons and dragons.”

“Except me.” Jake corrected. “I looked like a Roman God at 15.”

I looked him up and down, and squinted. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “I guess I got hotter. Who knew it was possible?”

“You know, some ancient cultures sacrificed the most attractive citizens.” I teased.

“I was right. You are a genius.”

            Later, we piled into Carlos’s SUV, who claimed he knew exactly where Jake’s house was from Junior High basketball carpooling. He managed to get us lost three times before he finally admitted defeat, and I resorted to calling Mrs. Vasquez. After she gave Carlos directions, he managed to get us hopelessly lost again. I offered to drive instead, but Mr. Vasquez, who is a police officer, said he’d find us and give us a “police escort.” Carlos began to protest, arguing that he was 18 and that it would “ruin his reputation.” Apparently, Mr. Vasquez gave Carlos an earful in Spanish because a few moments later, Carlos replied into the phone with, “Sípapá.”

            When Mr. Vasquez found us, he got out of the car and took a minute to say hi to everyone in the vehicle. He was just about the nicest person I knew, and if I was ever in trouble, he’d be the first person I’d call.

            Carlos pouted in the driver’s seat, while Officer Vasquez cracked a joke about threatening to strip search Carlos if he didn’t lighten up.

            We finally arrived at the party, and Mr. Vasquez said a quick “bye” to everyone before driving off. Carlos banged his head on the steering wheel repeatedly the whole time, while I laughed at his embarrassment.