The Winter Formal

This morning at 7:30 am:

Max: I need a check for $64 for two tickets to the Winter Formal.

Cassie: You’re taking someone? Who?

Max: (Girl’s name withheld.)

Cassie: Who’s that?

Max: A girl.

Cassie: Is she a Freshman?

Max: Yes.

Cassie: Was she in Marching Band? Did she go to Macy’s Parade with you?

Max: No.

Cassie: Is she that rich girl, whose house you wanted to go to back in eighth grade for some party when we first got here?

Max: No. But she’s rich.

Cassie: If she’s rich, why doesn’t SHE buy the tickets?

Max: Oh my God.

Cassie: What do you wear to a formal? The tux we just got you for orchestra?

Max: No. I’m wearing those new gray pants with the black shirt and silver tie we got for the NYC trip.

Cassie: When is the formal?

Max: Tomorrow night.

Cassie: You’re just getting the tickets NOW?!

Max: It’s fine, Mom. Everything’s fine.

I hand the check to him. He slips it into a compartment in his fancy backpack and walks out the door for school.

(Well, now.)


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