The day began like any other. The sky wasn’t any bluer than normal, the dogs weren’t barking any louder than usual, and Marjorie and I were walking to school, like we always did. She was my neighbor and in a grade below me at Bayland High.

Even though Marjorie was 16 and I was 17, something about her always made her feel older than me. Or maybe it was me. She was always rubbing in the fact that “girls mature faster than boys.” But you know what? It’s the fact that she knows junk like that makes her feel older, more mature somehow. Anyways, I felt like I could relate to her more than most girls (and even guys, truth be told).

As we walked the three blocks to school, Marjorie chattered on about different things: the upcoming Talent Show, her new role as editor in the newspaper, and other things I half paid attention to. So her next question came as a shock:

“Who are you taking to prom?”

I looked at her and realized that prom was this weekend and I still didn’t have a date. Thank God for Marjorie.