Futile

The sun was mercifully being filtered through a cloudy sky as Hank walked to the sports field to find Andrew in his usual spot. The plan was in motion.

“How’s the Tuna?” said Hank.

“I wouldn’t know, this is ham,” replied Andrew.

There followed a short, comfortable silence where both of them sat on the bleachers and ate their lunch together. The high school’s Lacrosse team came out onto the field, laughing and jostling each other.

“The big dance is coming up.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Sarcasm, Harold? Truly the lowest form of wit.”

Posters for the dance were all over the school. Hank quickly picked up on the game and decided to join in.

“Why Archibald, you wound me!”

He clutched at his chest in mock pain.

“Seriously though, the dance is coming up and I was thinking of going to this one.”

“Have fun.”

Andrew looked back out over the Lacrosse field. Hank was persistent.

“How about if you come with me to the dance?” he asked.

Andrew stared at Hank with a suspicious crease between his eyebrows.

“Is this a trick?”

“No.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I just thought that you might enjoy going to an actual high school dance. You know? They say these are the best days of our lives.” said Hank

“That’s a depressing thought.” said Andrew

“You will be missing out on one of the fundamental experiences of high school life!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. This dance will not live up to the hype. Too many movies and TV shows have taken the “fundamental high school life” and turned it into an over done and over dramatised farce. Nothing that real people could ever hope to replicate. Our real life will never live up to the fantasy.”

“You really can suck the joy out of anything, can’t you.” said Hank.

“It’s a gift. Why do you want to go?” said Andrew.

“Because it is fun! Or it could be if I went with my friends.”

“Does Marcy want to go?”

Marcy held her breath at the mention of her name. From her hiding place beneath the bleachers she stifled her frustration that Hank was taking forever to get to the point of the conversation. He had assured her that Andrew had feelings for her and she had asked for proof. Her patience was wearing thin.

“I think she does.” said Hank

“Great, why don’t you take her? You go with a friend and you don’t have to go stag.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Can’t risk it.” said Andrew.

“What?”

“Marcy is my friend. I like having a friend. If I ask her to the dance she will not only say ‘No’ she will stop being my friend.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“No, but I can play the odds. I wouldn’t risk losing a friend on such a bad bet.”

“But you told me you like her, like ‘like’ her.”

“That’s hardly relevant.”

“Usually, when someone likes someone, they ask them out on dates and things. To dances and such.”

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be one of those people.”

“So, you’re not going to ask her to the dance?”

“No, I’d rather have her as a friend.”