The high school I attended was small, with a student body of maybe 200. Our proms were not the grand soirees that some schools enjoyed but they were still much-anticipated events. It was one of the few times that teenagers could leave the blue jeans behind and dress to the nines.

I never gave much thought to the prom during my first couple of years at high school simply because I was not one of the popular girls in school. While not unattractive, I never wore makeup or did anything to enhance what God gave me. Friends said I was "nice". Others said I was "unique", which really meant I could not be categorized. Most people took little notice of me, unless I was on stage. There, I would morph into this outgoing, amazingly talented performer that everyone noticed!

By my senior year I was enjoying a bit of fame from my stage performances and began to seriously contemplate attending the prom. I even joined the prom committee and helped with the planning and setup of the spring event. Our theme that year was "Colour My World", based on the song by Chicago. Everyone loved that song and felt it was perfect for our prom.

I secretly harbored a hope that Jack would ask me to be his date.

I had known Jack since grade nine. Back then he had been an overweight, opinionated pain in the ass who always seemed to argue with me on every issue we talked about. We detested each other. However, during the summer prior to our senior year, Jack lost weight and somehow changed. Surprisingly he even mellowed towards me. Oh, he was still opinionated and we still argued, but by then I was used to it.

I developed a huge crush on him. Everyone knew it too, including Jack. Many of our classmates even thought we were a couple. They thought Jack would ask me to the prom.

Jack had other fish in mind. As prom night loomed I discovered he had asked my friend to be his datem and she said yes. So much for friends!

I was heartbroken. I blamed myself: I wasn't as cute, perky, witty, or bright as my friend. There had to be a reason why he chose her instead of me. I thought he like me, but apparently I was wrong.

Although hurt, I was determined not to let Jack know. I decided I would go to the prom in spite of Jack and since it was obvious that no one was going to ask me, I set out to get my own prom date.

What a disaster! That experience gave me a whole new respect for any guy who manages to get dates. The worst of the turn-downs? "I'm lifting weights that night." I could not beg, bribe or borrow a date if my life depended on it!

To add insult to injury, my aunt, kind-hearted though she was, volunteered my cousin as my date. I could not be that cruel to him, he being the hunk of our family and able to get dates at the snap of his finger. It would have been too bizarre for him, and way to embarrassing for me.

About that time the prom committee decided to set up a food booth at the prom and needed someone to run it. Guess who they asked? Guess who agreed to do it?

So I got to attend my prom. I watched friends and fellow students, decked out in their prom finery, enjoying the hard work to which I had contributed. The gym was decorated with white lattices covered in red roses; the tables set with white tablecloths and bud vases of red roses; the rose-covered arbor stood at the gym entrance; the spinning mirror ball cast its magical reflections around the room. Couples danced to the music provided by a DJ.

That night I worked the food booth set up outside the gym. A couple of friends felt sorry for me, out in the hall tending to the hungry masses, and sent their dates out to ask me to dance. Sweet, but absolutely mortifying!

Jack came out of the gym a couple of times and watched me hawking edibles. He even bought some stuff. I kept my composure the entire time. I was, after all, a great actress.

At the end of the evening, while standing at the door waiting for my ride, Jack sauntered over, sans date, and stood by the door staring out into the darkness. He casually asked me: "So, did you have a good time tonight?" Then his date appeared and they left.

At home I cried myself to sleep.

Oddly enough, five years after that night Jack called me, totally out of the blue. We went out to a movie and talked afterwards over coffee. Or I should say Jack talked. I listened.

As he talked, I found myself wondering whether he remembered that prom night. I wondered if he knew how hurt I had been. I remembered the sting of rejection. While we sipped coffee I wanted to mention it, but I let the opportunity pass.

I know I should be over this. After all, it's been years since that night. It should be water under the bridge now. Yet there is still a tiny part of me that is still sad. The prom was supposed to be a night to remember. It was, but for all the wrong reasons.

Having vented about it here, though, I actually do feel a bit better. It is just too bad Jack will never see this. Maybe I should anonymously send him a copy, petty though it may be. ;-)