Indigo Summer. Monica McKayhan

the last group of three girls started dancing to some song by Ludacris, I decided to make my way outside the gym, and stand near the glass doors. I didn’t want to miss Indigo when she came out. I wanted to speak to her; maybe offer her a ride home. Tell her how good her performance was. My backpack thrown across my shoulder, as girls passed by whispering, smiling and waving, I waited patiently.

      “Hey,” one of them said. “You Marcus Carter?”

      “Yep,” I said.

      “You’re in my fourth period.” The light brown girl smiled a cute little smile, and my eyes found her cleavage that she was showing too much of.

      “Oh,” is all I could say as I thought back to all the girls in my fourth period. I didn’t remember her face.

      “I sit two seats behind you in class,” she said. “I’m Alicia.”

      “Nice to meet you.”

      “And I’m Shauna,” her friend said. “You going to the homecoming dance?”

      “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

      I wondered if Indigo was going, and if so, if she already had a date. Maybe I’d ask her.

      “Well, if you decide to go, who you taking?” Alicia asked.

      “I don’t know.”

      “Well, I don’t have a date,” she smiled.

      My eyes found the door of the gym as they swung open and the girls trying out for the dance team rushed out. I searched for Indigo in the crowd, and spotted her walking and talking with another girl. She wore pink shorts and a white top that hugged her small breasts. Her wild hair fell softly onto her shoulders, and her skin was flawless.

      “Indigo,” I called her, walking away from Alicia and Shauna, leaving their questions and comments to dissolve into the air.

      Indigo’s eyes found mine.

      “What’s up?” She asked.

      “I been waiting on you. Wanted to tell you how good you were in there.”

      “Thanks. Hope I make the team,” she said dryly, as if she doubted her own skills.

      “You will,” I said.

      “What you doing hanging around in the girls’ gym anyway?” she asked.

      “Watching the tryouts.”

      “You stayed after school just to watch us dance? Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked, frowning. “Why aren’t you on the football team or something?”

      “Because I don’t play football…anymore,” I said. “But I watched the team practice for a while. Then I decided to come over here and see what was up with the dance team tryouts.”

      “Well, good for you,” she said and walked away from me, through the glass doors and to the outside courtyard.

      I followed.

      “You got a ride home?”

      “My father’s picking me up,” she said, searching the lineup of cars that sat at the curb; parents waiting for their children to come out.

      “…’cause I was gonna say, I could give you a ride, since you live right next door.”

      “That’s alright. He’s already here,” she said, and took off toward her father’s truck.

      Didn’t say goodbye. Just left me standing there, unaware that I thought she was the finest girl in the entire school.