The (Not so amazing) adventures of Max

Thirty-First Entry: The Dance That Never Was

Friday, October 13 - Early Afternoon

Well, it's finally here. The big night. The night I was supposed to have been gearing up for. The night everyone's been talking about for weeks. And what a coincidence, it's Friday the 13th. I should've known this would turn into a disaster. Seriously, what were the odds I'd get through the day without something going wrong? Spoiler alert: Nothing ever goes right for me on a day like this.

I was doing okay at first, I guess. I mean, I was ready to ask Alyssa out today—finally—but then something had to derail me. Of course. It was Mr. Dreadmore. It always is.

I was trying to muster up some courage when I saw him in the hallway. He was walking toward me, and something about the way he looked at me made me feel like I was in trouble. Like when you know you're doing something bad, even if you're not sure what it is. Anyway, as soon as he gets close enough, he stops, looks me up and down for a second, and then says, "Max, what's wrong? You don't look like yourself today."

Great. Now he's noticing. Why did I ever think I could get away with having a decent day today? I was expecting him to yell at me, but for once, Mr. Dreadmore surprised me.

I opened my mouth, and the words just spilled out. "I—uh—I was planning on asking someone to the dance today... but everything's going wrong, and I just... don't think I'm good enough for it." My face turned redder than a tomato, but once I started talking, I just couldn't stop.

He actually listened to me. I thought he'd tell me to toughen up or that I was being dramatic. But instead, Mr. Dreadmore did something I didn't expect: He sympathized.

He sighed and leaned against the locker beside me. "You know, Max, I was in your shoes once," he said. "When I was your age, I didn't have the confidence to ask a girl to a dance either. It can feel impossible, like everyone else has it figured out, and you're just... stuck."

I blinked. Was this real? Did Mr. Dreadmore, the guy who always seemed to enjoy making my life miserable, just sympathize with me?

"You're not alone, kid," he added, his voice softer than usual. "I get it. But you know what? Sometimes you just have to take the leap. Even if it doesn't work out, it's better than wondering 'what if?' for the rest of your life."

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Dreadmore, the guy who's always so hard on me, just gave me advice I'd never thought I'd hear from him. It was like a weird mix of comfort and disappointment. Comfort because I wasn't the only one feeling this way, and disappointment because it made me realize I had waited too long to do something about it.

Before he left, he patted me on the shoulder. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but things get better. Trust me." Then he walked off, and I just stood there, feeling confused, relieved, and somehow even more anxious than before.

So now, here I am—standing in the middle of a school hallway, less than an hour before the dance, and I still can't seem to gather up the courage to ask Alyssa. Even though Mr. Dreadmore was being supportive for once, it still feels like I'm about to make a huge mistake.

I know my friends are going to laugh. They'll probably be at the dance, dancing and having fun with their dates, while I'm over here, just trying to figure out why I'm so bad at this. Maybe I'll just give up. Maybe it's easier this way.

But then again, maybe Mr. Dreadmore is right. Maybe I should take the leap. Maybe... maybe this is my chance to prove something to myself. Even if I fail, at least I'll know I tried. Right?