“I have never seen him before, but I am convinced that the boy grinning at us from an arm's length away must have materialized directly from my head as the ultimate man of my dreams.”

“I pound my fist into my palm, furrowing my brow.My dad chokes on his dessert. I am emboldened."I want to wear the maroon and gold-the same maroon and gold you two wore when you fell in love all those years ago. Without that maroon and gold, you never would have fallen in love at prom, and I never would have been born. I am maroon and gold."The drama builds."I have spirit! Yes I do! I've got spirit, how 'bout you?" At this, I wildly wave fierce spirit fingers and heartily attempt the splits.Key word: attempt."Ow!" I cry, my crotch a foot from the floor, pain burning my groin.At this, neither of my parents can hold it anymore and, along with their eye rolling and head shaking, there is gut-wrenching laughter. I fall over to one side-sweet relief.”

“I wait for my dad to walk away before pulling back the covers and getting out of bed. Not exactly a Hallmark father-daughter moment.”

“Asking Wolf to couples' skate is like bungee jumping without a cord-it may be the bravest thing I've ever done in my life.Or it could be the stupidest.There's only one way to find out.I look him dead in the eyes, summoning up both my courage and my sense of reckless abandon, but before I can even speak one syllable-"Oh!" he says, looking over one shoulder and dropping his hands. "Kaitlyn's free now. I gotta get over there!"He rushes off, blowing me an air kiss.My mouth should get used to falling open when he's around, either from his good looks or from his total lack of comprehension of all things polite. Did that just happen?My face in my palms, I lean on my elbows against the rail, invisible, and fall into an intoxicating state of self-pity.”

“I guess he sees the mortified look on my face-Can I get a little bedside manner here?-because he awkwardly pats the sides of my arms and tried to smile.”

“Now it's just that dishwater blond," my mom continued as she snaps the last roller into place.I get up and kiss her on the cheek. "Thanks, Momma," I say, looking in the mirror over the mantel to check my pink plastic Afro head. Dishwater? Seriously? Way to build the self-esteem before the most important day of my life, I think; but what I say is, "I'm gonna go get ready for bed.”

“After thirty minutes of learning and rehearsing this routine, I've decided to never show my aforementioned self-taught moves to the public. Today's dance style seems to involve a dash of bump and a cup of grind, with a heavy dose of attitude...ingredients I haven't incorporated before. Not having cable television can really keep a girl out of the loop.”