My dad said I had to try harder in school. I sat in the car with my parents, getting ready to go back.  

"Paul, study more. We love you," said Mom. She gave me a little kiss on my cheek.

"If you need anything, call us," said Dad. He shook my hand and patted my shoulder.

I grabbed my blue suitcase and my backpack. Opened the car door. I got out, and my parents drove away.

The air was cold. Small snowflakes were blowing in the wind. I wiped my cheek to make sure Mom hadn't left any red lipstick. I didn't want the other boys to make fun of me. I don't like being laughed at.

I walked toward the giant stone building of Willow Hill Academy. There was snow on the roof and on top of all the tree branches. It looked like someone dripped white paint over everything.

My boots crunched the snow under my feet. Steam came out of my mouth as I exhaled the cold air. The first half of freshman year had been harder than I had imagined. The only class I'd gotten an A in was Art. I thought back to when my parents saw my report card over Christmas vacation. They'd had a talk with me about school. They weren't happy with my grades.

"Sit down on the couch, Paul," Dad had said.

"We aren't mad at you," my mom had added, with a sweet smile on her face.

I'd seen the letter from Willow Hill Academy in my dad's hands. Mom had sat next to my dad, holding his arm. I'd been nervous. Drops of sweat had formed on the back of my neck. I always sweat first behind my ears.

My dad then removed his glasses from his face. He'd gently placed his glasses on the table next to him. "Paul, you can do better than this," he'd said. "C in Math, C in History, D in English. What's going on at school?"

"I can't read as fast as the other kids. The only class I like is Art," I'd said. "The only time I can sit still and focus is when I'm drawing or painting. I always imagine things I want to paint when I'm sitting in those other classes."

"You are a great artist, Paul. But you have to do well in your other classes, too," my mom had told me.

I'd promised them I would.

I was going to do better in school.

But the only thing I'd been able to think about after talking to my parents was an elf throwing a snowball at Santa. So I'd gone upstairs to my room and opened my notebook to draw a picture of a snowball exploding against Santa's big belly.

    I pulled on the big, red, heavy, wooden door of the school and walked in. Inside was warm. All the boys were laughing and yelling. They were throwing paper airplanes at each other.

    I heard someone yell my name.

    "Paul Joyce!" It was Thunder Jenkins. His real name was Greg. Everyone called him Thunder, though, because he could burp louder than anyone at school.

    He yelled my name again. I started walking towards him, stopping for a second when a paper airplane soared in front of my face.

    Thunder was leaning against the stone wall of the hallway. The light above him illuminated the top of his head. It made his blond hair look like it was made out of gold and fire. Next to him stood Scott Fitzgerald. Scott was thin and his clothes always seemed too big for him.

    They were both waving me over. Thunder and Scott were my best friends.

    "How was Christmas?" asked Thunder.

   "It was okay, but my parents saw my report card," I said.

    "Bummer," said Scott. "Were they mad at you?"

    I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't feel like talking about it. "Not really. They told me to try harder," I said.

    "Are you going to the dance tonight?" Scott asked.

    "Yeah. You can't miss those Ashby Prep girls," said Thunder.

    "I don't know," I said.

    That night was the Winter Dance with the all-girls school, Ashby Prep. It was the only time all year that the two schools mingle. The boys' school and the girls' school never saw each other, otherwise. The rest of the year, a giant, twenty-foot brick wall separated Willow Hill Academy from Ashby Prep.

    All of the boys were excited to go. Except me. I wanted to spend the night in my room. I was feeling down about my grades. I wasn't in the mood for dancing.

    Scott, Thunder, and I stopped talking and went upstairs to our dorms. I shared a room with Scott, and Thunder lived three doors down the hall with Matt Crane.

    Matt Crane was the smelliest boy in the entire school. He had a weird, mixed odor of sweaty socks and sardines. I really believed Thunder couldn't smell Matt. Thunder was the only boy that didn't seem to mind the smell. He and Matt got along very well and were good friends. And since Matt was Thunder's friend, he was Scott's friend, and mine too.

    I began to unpack my suitcase when I got into my room. I put my clothes into the dresser and hung my coats in the closet. Then I walked over and flopped backwards onto my bed. It felt like floating on top of the ocean. I laid with my hands resting on my chest and I closed my eyes.

    "Don't fall asleep, Paul," said Scott. "You have to go to the dance. You can't miss our first chance to meet Ashby girls."

    "I'm only resting for a minute," I said.

    "Get up and help me put my suitcase on the top shelf in the closet. I'm too short," said Scott.

    I walked over to the closet and stood on my tiptoes to put away Scott's suitcase.

    "Thanks," Scott said. "Now, let's get ready for the dance."

    I sat back down on my bed. "I'm not sure I want to go," I said.

    Scott wouldn't take no for an answer. "Get up and put on a suit and tie. You don't even have to dance. If you don't go, you'll regret it tomorrow," he said.

    Thunder burst into our room and flung the door open. "You guys ready? Paul, why are you sitting on your bed? You have to come."

    "Okay, fine. I can't sit still any longer, anyway. Plus, I have to see you in public dressed like that, Thunder," I said.

    "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" he asked.

    Scott and I looked at each other and laughed. "You look like a marshmallow, dude," Scott told Thunder.

    "What are you talking about? I look good," replied Thunder.

    Thunder was dressed all in white. Everything from head to toe. He even had on white socks. The only thing on him that wasn't white were the black buttons going down his shirt. They looked like round, shiny beetles marching single file down his chest.

    "The girls are going to love it," Thunder said, before letting out a roaring burp.

    "That's gross," said Scott.

    Scott and I got ready for the dance. I put on a black jacket and a blue shirt. I checked the mirror to make sure I got my tie right, then took an extra moment to examine my face.

    I carefully studied my eyes, my mouth, my hair. My hair was always messy. To me it looked like my hair was swirled onto my head by a frozen yogurt machine. But this was the best I was going to get myself to look.

    As Scott, Thunder, and I walked down the hall, Matt ran up to us. The four of us started walking toward Ashby Prep.

    The air was chilly, so we walked close to each other to stay warm. A group of senior boys were in front of us. They were hooting and hollering. Making lots of loud noise and jumping around. Seeing the senior boys have so much fun made us all more excited. I started to think that I really could have a good time at the dance.

    At closer distance, Ashby Prep looked a lot different from our school. It was made of wood instead of stone and bricks. The girls' school looked like a large and elaborate cabin. To me it resembled the castle of an old Viking king.

    We knocked the snow from our shoes as we entered. The inside was magnificent. It was beautifully decorated for the dance. There were large paper snowflakes hung all over the halls and in the atrium. There were also shiny blue and silver ribbons, and matching blue and silver balloons.

    The atrium was a large and spacious room with a glass ceiling on which patches of snow had settled. Tables were placed near the wall to create a dance floor in the middle. Pale blue light from the full moon shone through the ceiling, and made tiny spotlights all over the dance floor.

    "Let's go talk to the girls!" exclaimed Thunder.

    "I'm going to get some soda first," I said.

    Scott and Matt agreed with me, and Thunder thought drinking some soda first wasn't a bad idea. I was very nervous. There were so many kids. So many girls. Some people were already dancing. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know where to stand.

    The four of us stood together with our sodas, checking out the room. Everyone seemed to be having fun.

    "Okay, boys, time to find a girl to dance with," said Thunder. He went off with Scott and Matt and headed toward a group of girls. The girls were standing side by side and talking.

    Thunder and Scott joined in on their conversation. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but I saw the girls start to laugh.

    Next, they were all out on the floor dancing with each other.

    I was watching them, and drinking my soda when a soft voice spoke to me.

    "Looks like fun. Why aren't you dancing with your friends?"

    I turned and saw the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

    She had soft, flowing brown hair down to her shoulders. Her eyes matched the blue balloons that floated all over the room. She wore a pale dress that mimicked the color of the moon.

    "I'm drinking soda. Mixing soda with my dancing could be hazardous," I said.

    "Your dancing can't be that bad. I'm sure that soda won't fizz up and explode," she laughed. "My name is Anna Gambler. What's yours?"

    "I'm... I'm Paul Joyce," I said.

    "Well, Paul Joyce, do you want to dance?" Anna asked.

    I was trying to say "yes," but my tongue was tied in knots. I started to feel sweat behind my left ear. I was too shocked and nervous to speak. Anna grabbed my hand. I put my soda down on the table. Anna dragged me to the dance floor.

    "I can't dance," I warned.

    "No one here is a great dancer. It's about having fun," said Anna.

    At first, I barely moved. I swayed slowly, side to side. I felt like a flag moving in a soft wind.

    "Paul, you have to move. Don't worry what everyone else will think," said Anna.

    So I moved my hands up and down. Anna laughed a little. I felt awkward. I wasn't used to moving so many different parts of my body. I didn't know how to move my hands and feet at the same time. I also had to move them in different directions.

    "Good job. Now move your feet like this," Anna said. She was twisting her feet and moving her shoulders.

    I tried my best to imitate her. I copied everything she was doing.

    "You're a liar, Paul," Anna joked. "You're a terrific dancer."

    I smiled.

    "Yeah, this isn't so bad," I said.

    Then the song stopped. A slow song came on. I stood still, and looked at Anna. I had no clue what to do. I had just learned to dance to a fast song. I didn't know how to dance to a slow one.

    Anna moved closer to me. She held my left hand up near our shoulders. She then placed my other hand on the bottom of her back.

    "Don't be so nervous, Paul. I'll teach you what to do."

    "Okay," I said.

    I could feel my hands get a little moist. I was beginning to sweat more. Hopefully, Anna didn't think it was gross.

    We started to glide around the dance floor.