"Hey, Marcos! You comin' to the dance tonight?"

Vincent Marcos ran a comb through his hair and swaggered down the front steps of the high school to the passenger side of the car idling at the curb. "Who all's goin'?"

"Ginny'll be there for sure."

Ginny was the girl most of the boys fantasized about but few ever got beyond a goodnight peck on the cheek after a date. Tall, shiny black hair to her shoulders and a figure conceived only in adolescent boy's dreams. Vincent tried to look unimpressed but the thought of getting a slow dance with Ginny pumped his heart rate up a few notches. He stood back from the car and shrugged. "I might try and get there later."

"What, you got something better to do?"

"Hey, Benny, I got things cookin' okay? I'll probably get there but I can't say for sure right now."

Benny slipped the car into gear and made a nasty face. "Find your own way there then, Mister big things cookin'." The car screeched away from the curb and Vincent swore under his breath. He didn't want to look like the rest of the guys, all drooling after Ginny and her friends. He saw himself as cooler and more mature than them. He wanted to be a step back; kind of like Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. He ran his comb through his hair again and walked away, wondering how he would get to the dance on his own.

Vincent tossed his jacket on the bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling of his room. If he asked for his dad's car he'd have to be home at ten and that would be something he could never live down. If he took the bus it would kill his chances of maybe taking Ginny home. Vincent didn't factor in the possibility that he would not get to be her ride home, in his mind it was a given.

The transportation though, that was the big problem. He mulled over what kind of stories he could come up with for being late and how it might affect future use of the car. In the end he decided that he could be convincing enough to get away with being late and planned his strategy for getting the car.

Another of the recurring arguments followed dinner and in a final fit of disgust, Vincent's father tossed him the keys and told him to take the damn car and not be late getting home—or else. His mother stood in the kitchen doorway shouting that they couldn't afford for him to be wasting gas driving to dances, things were tight enough as it was.

Vincent tried to argue back but they suddenly joined forces and he found himself on the losing side so he gladly accepted the keys and slammed out of the house to the reminding shouts of his curfew.

Benny's car was near the entrance to the community center and there was a crowd of kids around it all laughing and smoking. Some girls Vincent recognized as regulars when guys with cars were on the scene, but he didn't see any sign of Ginny's crowd. He pulled into a spot a few spaces down and locked the car before wandering down to join the group.

"Whoa! Mister, got things cookin' is here." Benny laughed, pointing at Vincent. "S'matter, Vince, oven catch fire?" The group all joined in the tease, and Vincent just made a face and joined them, leaning on Benny's car. "Hey, you got daddy's car?"

"I wasn't gonna walk here was I?"

"I offered you a ride but you had—"

"Yeah, yeah. We all heard, Benny." Vincent changed the subject and asked if anyone had been inside yet.

"We were all waiting for you. We wanted to give you a fair chance at Ginny." The other boys guffawed and pushed at one another. The girls swayed on the spot and remained silent, their eyes seeking one another for confirmation of the inference made.

"Your mistake, guys," he said with bravado, leaving the group and heading inside. They all followed in a clump, joking and shoving as they went.

Inside the hall the lights were dimmed and a slow, romantic song played over the many speakers around the room. On the far wall from the entrance, a table was set with punch and cookies donated by the center, all provide through a community fund supported by the school and the parents. Balloons hung from the ceiling and crêpe paper stuttered from the fans set up around the stage where the disc jockey juggled his music.

Next to the table was a row of chairs and through the dancers Vincent spotted Ginny sitting in the center of her court of the school's most envied girls. He moved casually along the wall to a point where he had an unobstructed view of her and leaned against the wall, trying to appear aloof, as he studied several of the couples doing their slow shuffle to the music.

Benny and the others had secured a few chairs in the corner and had settled in, forcing the girls, if they wanted to sit, to sit on a boy's lap. When the music ended they could be heard joking and teasing one another and Vincent was glad he was away from them. He saw Ginny glance over and then find him, her eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

When the music started again, it was a song he really liked and knew he could dance well to. He wet his lips and made his way across the floor toward Ginny's group. He could see their conversation stop and the all focused on his approach. Vincent prayed he wouldn't blush and he summoned the image of Travolta, shifting his shoulders and adding a touch of swagger to his gait.

"Hey, Ginny. Would you like to dance?"

"Sure..." He beamed and held out his hand. "But not with you." The group all broke into laughter and Vincent stood rooted to the spot, his cheeks flaming.

"Maybe another time." He turned and walked stiffly back across the floor. He took a peek at his friends, thankful they weren't paying attention and found a more isolated place on the wall. In his mind he had grabbed Ginny and pulled her to her feet, daring her to pull away and then he had spun her out onto the floor. The crowd would have parted as they danced like one, eyes and bodies locked with the rhythm of the music.

"That was mean." The voice snapped him out of his daydream and he turned to see a cute, petite girl leaning on the wall next to him.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Ginny. What she did was mean. She only did it because the others dared her."

Vincent faced the girl. "How do you know that?"

"Because I'm one of their group, at least they said I could be because I'm new at the school, but I thought it was a dirty trick." She faced the dance floor with her back against the wall and Vincent took in her figure, his eyes jumping over the front of her sweater with appreciation.

"So what, you came over to bandage my ego?"

"Maybe. I would also like to dance."

He stared at her for a moment and then offered her his hand, leading her onto the floor and willing himself to be the smoothest looking dancer in the place.

"What's your name, I don't think I've seen you around the school before?"

"You haven't, I just moved here. Maria Gomez is my name and I know yours already." She smiled up at him and he blinked at the intensity of her large dark eyes.

Several dances later Vincent went outside and sat with Maria on the fender of his dad's car. They had talked while they danced and he had learned about how, when she graduated from school, she wanted to be a part of her father's clothing retail business.

She had confided that she liked to design fashions and had even made a few things for herself that she had created. Vincent spent more time taking inventory of Maria's assets than any interest in her design dreams, and before either of them knew it they were inside the car exploring the first steps in intimacy.

When Vincent sneaked into the house, he found both parents sitting in the living room waiting and the fighting began immediately.  Vincent's father ordered Vincent to get into bed and in the morning have his bags packed to move to his grandparent's home. No amount of protest could change his mind and in the end he fell into his bed crying and yearning for Maria's soft lips to salve his hurt.

In the morning nothing had changed. Vincent's grandparents had agreed to take him in and that was the end of any debate. At school he looked for Maria but couldn't find her and then one of Ginny's girls told him that she had gotten in big trouble for coming home so late. Vincent fell deeper into his depression.

The scene in the kitchen with his grandmother repeated and this time Vincent saw himself outside striding angrily down the street. He didn't believe that his parents moved him out because of money troubles. There was no sign around their house that things were tight, at least not to his naïve eyes.

He found his way to Maria's street and he walked cautiously past the house hoping for a glimpse of her and an opportunity to speak with her. It was four days before she reappeared at school and when he confronted her she told him that she was not to even be near him again. Her father was livid about her behaviour and would be driving her to and from school for the next while.

Vincent couldn't believe it. They were late, nothing more. Nothing bad had happened. What was the big deal?

Maria told him about the strict rules in her home and that her father was the absolute law. If she had any hopes of being a designer in his business, she would begin right now by toeing the line. So much for any chance of going steady, Vincent brooded.

He accepted her declaration and forgot about her, his attention returning to Ginny, the one he wanted more than anything, if only to knock her smug attitude off her face.