Cintia takes off her St. John’s straw hat and playfully plants it on my head. “I’m also not a fan of parties.” She leans back, watching with a pained face as students begin gathering for a quadrille. “I was signed up to dance with PC, but then he moved to Caruaru, and now I’m stuck having to dance with some guy I don’t even know.” She squirms in her chair, looking nervous. “I’d skip it, but I don’t want to ruin the quadrille...”

I place the hat back on her head.

“If I signed up for more of these school things, maybe I’d have more friends.”

Cintia launches me a small smile. “You have me.”

Just then, Victor returns with an armload of food. And flip-flops. He places the sandals in front of my bare feet like an offering. “There. Just like Cinderella,” he says with a sheepish grin.

I’m so stunned, I don’t know what to say.

“Where did you get these?” Cintia asks for me, looking impressed herself.

“Some girl from your class, Lari,” he says, nodding toward the quadrille. “She said you could borrow them.”

My eyes flicker to the students gathering near the band. “One of my classmates offered them?! Who?”

“I’ll point her out if I see her again.”

I can’t imagine who’d have done that, after half my classroom just laughed at me. Part of me is cautious when I put the sandals on, but they fit perfectly and there’s nothing wrong with them. Warm fuzzies spread in my chest. I glance at the students in the distance again, hoping to spot who my guardian angel is.

“I gotta go. The quadrille is about to start,” Cintia says, standing up as Victor takes her seat. “Save a skewer for me, will you?”

“No promises,” he says.

She playfully flips him off and rushes away to pair up with a boy in a similar hat and a yellow flannel that matches hers—the other quadrille couples all wear matching colors, most of them younger students, I think. I watch her take position in line, facing her pair. She’s beautiful in cropped jeans, and her high heels complement her quadrille outfit, making her legs seem longer, her calves toned.

“You’re not joining them?” I ask Victor.

“Only if you dance with me,” he teases.

I raise my hands in defeat. “No, thank you. I suck at dancing.”

“I suck, too. We’d make quite a pair.”

“After nearly falling off my heels earlier, I’ll pass on any more opportunities to break my ankle.”

“Fair enough.”