She attended the Spring Formal, resplendent in pink and without an escort. The boys at Anniston High seemed to be demonstrating their respect for Johnny by leaving her alone. She rarely saw Sam; their class schedules didn’t correspond and he worked immediately after the school day ended.

Chet Wilson mailed a postcard from Birmingham; it featured the Vulcan statue on Red Mountain and he’d painstakingly printed, “I miss you. Love, Chet.”

When the Hour Glass was distributed, she’d turned its pages to find she and Johnny had been named “Best Looking.” The yearbook featured too many photos of Johnny on the basketball court to number. Pictures of the two of them at Homecoming, walking through the halls and eating lunch together were scattered throughout. Violet couldn’t look through it without tears.

Two months after Johnny was released from the hospital, she accepted a Friday night date with Hugh Parker, a lineman for the Bulldogs destined for a life of hard work in his father’s auto repair shop. Hugh was a gentle giant, a fumbling mess of a clay-stained man-boy off the football field. Conversation was limited to sports and cars; Violet struggled not to yawn all night. He held her clumsily after a showing of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre at the Calhoun Theater, trying to steal an awkward kiss. When Hugh suggested a stop at their classmate Jerry Payne’s party, she jumped at the chance to socialize with her friends.

Hugh immediately set out to fetch beer for the two of them. The first person she recognized in the Paynes’ darkened living room was Sam Davidson. He was sitting with Deborah but spotted Violet across the small crowd of slow dancers and made his way to her side.

“I heard you were going out with Hugh. He’s a nice guy.”

Violet nodded. “Not as nice as you. Much smarter, though,” she teased, smiling across the room and waving her fingers at an obviously distracted Hugh, laughing with a fellow football player. He either didn’t see her or chose to ignore her. She rolled her eyes and clasped them shut, wishing she’d stayed home. “Have you seen Johnny?”

“No. I tried, but his dad answered the door and sent me away. You?”

“I called him but he won’t talk to me, either.” Violet scanned the room for her girlfriends, finding none. She wondered if her mother might pick her up from the party. It was a long walk home.

Sam wore an amused expression. “So, I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but my dad summoned me to his office regarding twelve handbags I’d priced below wholesale.”

“The ones I did?” Violet was appalled.

Sam laughed. “The very ones. I told him I’d been in a hurry that day.”

“I am so sorry.”