The DJ played something that sounded very royal, with a lot of horns. An empty circle opened up in the middle of the dance floor. Ben, the student council president, read down a long list of local businesses who sponsored the homecoming dance and then a bunch of announcements about some boring lit magazine fund-raiser, and maybe he went through step-by-step directions for how to bake a strawberry shortcake. I have no idea. I stopped listening. That guy was boring. Then the music changed to a recording of a drumroll, and Principal Barth took the mic. He read the homecoming court and said something specific about each person. “She’s a math something” and “He’s a baseball something.” Whatever. It was nice. They were freshmen and sophomores and juniors and who cares. I mean, some people cared—they had friends watching—but I was only there for the main event. I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t wait to see everyone’s faces. What happened was this: homecoming king was awarded to Mason.
