I guess for me, choosing the purple school had been somewhat of a letdown for the first five or six months. That is of course except for the Senior/Freshman dance that they had back in October. This school did not have a gymnasium for dances, so the cafeteria tables were all folded up and put away for the big night. All of us freshman boys were lined up along the walls, too afraid to move, and not having a clue what was going on, while the freshman girls and most of the senior boys and girls were dancing and having a blast.
The purpose of the Senior/Freshman dance was for the seniors to dance with the freshman to help welcome them to the school, and to help assimilate the newbies into the school. Every now and then, a senior girl would come over to ask one of us freshman boys to dance. For us freshman boys, meeting a senior girl was even better than meeting a rock star. Every time one of our buddies was asked to dance, all of the other guys would stand there with our mouths open, then turn to each other and simultaneously say "Wow", then hit each other and laugh like little girls.
When Elizabeth came over and asked me to dance, it was like time all of sudden stood still. I tried to be cool and say "Sure I would love to", but I think I muttered something that sounded more like "Yabba, dabba, doo". She grabbed my hand and took me out the dance floor and we danced one quick fast dance. Well, she danced. I just looked like I was squishing ants and batting at flies. I remember not knowing what to do with my arms, and had the incredible need to keep rolling up my sleeves. Tough to do with a short sleeved shirt on.
When the song ended, and the music slowed down, I froze. Do I run back to the wall? Do I ask for her phone number? What do I do? I was sure that she had fulfilled some sort of contract with the nuns by dancing one dance with a freshman boy, and could now leave. But then Elizabeth put her arms over my shoulders, and continued dancing. I cannot honestly say that I do not remember anything else about this dance with her, except that we talked, I actually spoke articulately. We talked about the school, and some of the teachers, and we laughed. Here I was, a geeky little freshman dancing and having a conversation with a senior girl.
When it was over, she said thank you, and although I thought for sure that I would inadvertently repeat my "Yabba Dabba Doo" line, I thanked her instead, and real words came out of my mouth. She went back to her friends as did I. She went back having done a really nice thing, and I went back different than when I went out on the floor. Yes, she was a senior girl, a rock star, but in the previous five or six minutes she became way more than that in my eyes. She became a really nice person, and a friend who continued to say "Hi" to me for months to come as we passed each other in the hallways.
As I was walking back to the wall, at that very moment, I really did feel that I was a part of this school. Except for one thing.
In that purple brochure, a special emphasis was placed on the sports history of this school. For me, the purple experience would not be complete unless I played on a sports team. So here it was in early March, and I had missed football tryouts, spent the winter watching basketball and hockey games from the stands because I had not been born with the genes that give the talent for either one, and I had been cut from not one, but three baseball teams.
In leading up to tell of my next attempt at athletic glory, I remembered this story about Elizabeth. I remembered why making a team meant more to me than just playing a sport. The school had given us freshman the chance to be welcomed by our peers, and for me that really did happen the night of the dance. I really loved this school at this point, and really loved being a part of the tradition. I finally understood the meaning of the Beach Boys words: be true to your school now. I had learned to be able to speak 'non-Flintstone' words to girls thanks to Elizabeth, but now I just needed the lettermans' jacket so I could, as the Beach Boys said, let my colors fly.
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