I don’t want to go into detail about what happened for the next hour. There was a lot of crying. From him. I just sat there. He was begging me. In public.

I left him there and biked home.

Then I had to tell my family what I’d done. They freaked out in a way I did not expect. My parents didn’t exactly yell at me, but they definitely gave me the third degree about it, like was I sure? Was I acting in haste? I swear to god they asked me more about this than where I was applying to college. I mentioned this, very calmly, and my mom said, “You can go to college anywhere, but you only marry one person.”

Which doesn’t even make sense.

I said I’m not like them. I don’t want to marry someone from high school and be here forever. And they gave some lip service, saying they knew that, but Shawn is so wonderful, blah, blah, blah and prom etc.

In the middle of this, Allison came in from roller-skating up and down the street and asked what was going on. When she found out she started bawling. Like someone had died. I get it. She’s twelve, and Shawn has been around since she was nine. He’s like an older brother. But what am I going to do? Get married to him because my little sister loves him?

Anyway, the house was a mess for about two hours. Even Cookie started barking and wouldn’t stop. I went to my room and listened to records with my headphones on. I played Rumours. I listened to the song “Never Going Back Again” five times. That song goes right into “Don’t Stop.” I feel like they’re guiding me. “Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow, don’t stop, it’ll soon be here.”

It had better be.

UPDATE, 10 P.M.

It’s okay here at home now. I think my parents realized that I was serious about what I wanted and they trust me. Allison knocked on the door and asked if I wanted to go to Sizzler for dinner. We’re good now. She gets it. She’s the best.

APRIL 12, 1978

Oh my god. I got into Columbia. I got a scholarship.

Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow.

Don’t stop, it’ll soon be here.

APRIL 14, 1978

Interesting thing at lunch today.

Shawn and I don’t have the same lunch period. He has fourth. But for no reason I can make out, he appeared at fifth lunch today. It’s the first time since the other night that I felt really and completely flustered when I saw him. I turned toward the lunch line, and I felt him come up behind me. He said, “Can we talk?”

I told him I wanted to eat lunch. Mostly, at that point, I felt like I was going to barf. No one wants a sloppy joe under these conditions.

He asked again, and I started gripping the tray rail, and then something happened. Diane McClure, who was a few people ahead of me, stepped back and joined me in line.