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good seeing you.” Her intonation indicated the conversation was over. I was losing an opportunity that I desperately needed to seize. I had a chance right here, right now, and needed to make the most of it. There was no turning back; the time was right. But only seconds remained, as she was headed into the abyss of the school stairwell.
    Her back was to me. Several paces of empty space separated us in the otherwise empty high school hallway.
    “Delancey.” She turned around slowly when I called out her name. “Would you like to…” I started asking, voice cracking, throat dry, out of air and moisture at the same time.
    “David, I really don’t know. I think you might be better off asking some other girl.” The words fell from her full lips, like grenades from a B-52 bomber. I stood in silence, dejected, rejected, and crestfallen. I could see that she understood my pain, and as the seconds of awkward silence lingered like poisonous gas, there was a change in her countenance.
    “How did you even…”
    “Know what you were going to ask me? You’re so obvious. I’ve been on to you for some time now,” she said. I couldn’t even finish a sentence. “David, I’m heading home; if you want we can ride the train together.”
    I heard the words, and saw them leave her lips, one syllable at a time. A sheepish grin escaped, and I nodded yes, for my throat was still too parched to speak.
    Delancey and I walked four blocks to the subway, making small talk about school, teachers, the upcoming SATs, and college. I flashed my student train pass and entered the turnstiles; Delancey used a token. The platform was overcrowded.
    We boarded the train without speaking, standing just inches apart. I could smell her sweet breath, as well as her subtle citrus perfume. We remained silent, until I shut my brain off, and just let my emotions take over.
    “You smell so good,” I said. She blushed, glancing downwards.
    “Are you upset that I turned you down?” she asked.
    “Technically, I didn’t ask you out, and you never said no.” We both giggled.
    “There are so many other girls in school, why don’t you ask one of them out?”
    “I appreciate your interest in my love life, but I can take it from here, thanks,” I said curtly. The F-Train was now over the Manhattan Bridge, and we were awestruck as usual by views of the Brooklyn Bridge, the East River, and all of lower Manhattan, including the World Trade Center.
    “I never get used to this view, even though I see it every day.” Delancey’s eyes lit up with the awe that filled my vision.
    “I know what you mean.” I asked her about her family.
    She talked about her father, who owned big, expensive restaurants in the city. She was being pulled in different directions by her divorced parents. Her mother was remarried and living on Long Island. Delancey lived with her father in the city during the school week.
    “Why did they divorce?” I asked, realizing that it was none of my business the moment the question was asked. Delancey paused.
    “I’m sorry I asked the question; it’s none of my business.”
    “It’s okay…I just…well, I really don’t know what would be the best answer. There were so many reasons, like years of constant fighting. I could go on and on. But I guess the best way for me to answer is to say that they never should’ve gotten together in the first place. They were doomed from the beginning. My mother is so different from my father. She is…well….I wouldn’t say that she’s a hippie, but she’s definitely a free spirit…free willed, and just not really the kind of woman that I could ever see my father with. He is regimented, a workaholic, with very specific routines, and structure…a pragmatist. My father had plans for my entire life laid out on paper before I was born. He wanted me to go to the private school in the city that he picked out when I was two years old. He plans well, even for a divorce.”
    Delancey’s expression