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her cheeks that glow.
    He’d have to find Sim, which he accomplished in short order, weaving his way in and out of the crowd, searching the seating area where you could pretty much find someone easily, the seats stacked up the side of the room like bleachers at English peoples’ stadiums.
    There he was.
    Isaac plopped himself in the seat beside Sim, and said, “Catherine Speicher is helping her friend Liz at the tack stand.”
    That got his attention.
    He looked very nice, with that narrow-brimmed straw hat he wore, turned down in the front and back with a piece of rawhide knotted around the crown instead of the black band that belonged there traditionally. A lot of the youth didn’t wear hats, but Sim was older, a member of the church, and Dat’s ways were deeply ingrained and respected.
    Maybe, though, Catherine wouldn’t match. For one instant, this flashed through Isaac’s head. She was definitely not quite like Sim, and maybe Sim was right that he didn’t stand a chance.
    No, you just couldn’t think along those lines. God wasn’t like that. You just took a chance, went ahead and asked the question to see what happened.
    “So, are you going to ask her for a date?” he asked, after a long swallow of the sweet soda.
    “No, Isaac.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because.”
    “That’s no answer.”
    “Go away.”
    “Oh, come on, Sim. You big ‘fraidy cat. Just go down to the tack stand and act like you need a new halter, and when she hands it to you, say, ‘Could I come see you on Saturday evening at 8:00?’”
    “It’s not that easy!” Sim hissed. “And don’t talk so loud.”
    Isaac found Tyler, the neighbor boy, who was horse-and-buggy Mennonite. He wore jeans and a thick coat with a zipper and a narrow-brimmed gray hat. Tyler talked with a different accent, although it was the same Pennsylvania Dutch that Isaac spoke.
    They clambered up on the wooden fences, perched there and watched the horses milling about. Tyler said the horse dealers drugged the ponies so everyone thought they were safe, and once the drugs wore off, some of them were wild and vicious. Isaac said Dat never bought ponies at an auction, and Tyler said that was smart.
    They got to the food stand early, and bought cheeseburgers and French fries and more Mountain Dew. They tapped the glass ketchup bottle hard and a whole glug of it clumped on to their fries, but that was fine with them. They loved ketchup.
    They talked about school and Christmas and sleds. Someone stopped at their table, and Isaac looked up to find Catherine Speicher with a tray of food.
    “May I sit with you? The tables are all full.”
    “Sure.”
    Isaac slid over immediately, and she sat beside him.
    “I’m starved; no breakfast.”
    She ate hungrily, saying nothing. Tyler’s father came to get him, so that side of the table was empty, until Sim came in with his lunch and slid in opposite them.
    Catherine stopped eating, then, and got all flustered and acted so dumb Isaac could not believe it.
    Sim took off his hat and asked if they’d prayed. Catherine shook her head. They bowed their heads for a short while, then Sim began eating his ham hoagie. He had coffee, too, which seemed awfully mature. Isaac was glad, him being so confident and all.
    They talked, and Catherine’s face turned pink, and then it turned a greenish-white, and sort of leveled off to the usual color as she finished her roast beef sandwich. Isaac sat in the corner and drew down his eyebrows and made “Ask her!” motions with his mouth, which did absolutely no good.
    They talked about the snow and school, and who went to which crowd, all having names the way the youth did nowadays. There were Eagles and Pine Cones and Hummingbirds and what not. The wilder youth had their own group; the more conservative ones their own as well. Some of them had rules and were parent-supervised, which turned out well. Sim was with the Eagles, but not the same group as Catherine, since she was so much younger and