Rose watched her friends dancing to the new rock ’n’ roll music. She spotted Alfred but didn’t dare get up. Her mother watched her, watching him.
At intermission, Mother said, “C’mon, Rose, we’re leaving,” and left to fetch the car.
Alfred approached. “Leaving so soon, Rose?”
“May I call you?”
“We don’t have a phone.”
Rose sat in the backseat while Mother drove. “Who was that boy?”
“Don’t forget, you’re working the store this summer. No distractions.”
“Yes, Mother.” Rose held a napkin open, careful not to fold it. Written on it, in red lipstick, was Alfred’s number.