scar-crossed lovers ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ wally clark

chapter thirteen: fall of '83

The arrival of Homecoming season never stirred much interest within Daniella, never finding the dance festivities enticing. Yet, Wally was the opposite, always eager and drawn towards the school spirit ridden season. But as the saying goes, there's a reason opposites attract. Each passing year, she had skipped out on the dance as it wasn't really her scene, but this year a certain jock was going to try his best to convince her.

On a Thursday night, roughly three weeks before the much-anticipated dance and football game, Wally and Daniella found solace in the intimacy of his bedroom, laying comfortably on top of his gray comforter with the soft music of The Police playing in the background. With his head nestled against her torso, eyes peacefully sealed shut, she tenderly toyed with his dark locks. Lost in his own thoughts, Wally suddenly opened his eyes, "go to Homecoming with me."

"Wally," her voice carried a hint of resignation as she gazed downwards at him. It had become somewhat of a ritual over the years since they started high school; every Homecoming season, he would ask her to the dance, and she would always give him the same response. If any of his previous girlfriends had found out that he had asked his closest friend to the dance before any of them, those relationships would have ended even quicker than they already did.

In an instant, he sprung up from his reclined position, maneuvering himself to lean on one of his arms with eager eyes fixed upon her. "Danny, I already know what you're gonna say, but hear me out," he implored. She looked up at him skeptically with furrowed brows and arms crossed but open to hearing out the boy's argument.

"It's senior year," he began, punctuating his words by counting the facts out on his fingers, "our last Homecoming dance. And you haven't been to a single one. Why not make it an even more memorable one with your best friend?" With a slight pause, he asked, "so, as one last hurrah, will you, Daniella Elizabeth White, do me the honor of going to Homecoming with me?"

The glimmer of hope and anticipation in Wally's eyes was all it took to convince Daniella. He was right, after all she wanted a few lasting memories of high school that weren't traumatic before heading off to college. With a soft exhale, she relented, "alright." At the exuberant outburst that escaped Wally's lips, she continued, "but only if you get me one of those corsages with your jersey number on it."

"We have a deal!" He exclaimed, practically straddling her to kiss her forehead, "I'll be on my best behavior, I promise."

The long-awaited Friday before Homecoming had finally arrived, and the atmosphere within the town crackled with anticipation for the upcoming game and dance. For Daniella, the day held promise as she had no fresh injuries or marks to conceal. With a content sigh, she ensured her front door was locked before practically skipping to the passenger side of Wally's car, a spring in her step in anticipation of the events that lay ahead. It was just a dance with Wally, a boy she'd known for most of her life, yet the mere thought of finally going with him sent a swarm of butterflies swirling within her.

"Love the jersey," he complimented sarcastically with his wonderfully bright smile once she got situated in the car, quickly becoming intoxicated with her perfume. Freshman year he had given her one of his blue Split River football jerseys, his name and number sprawled onto the back. Anytime she donned the white and blue jersey, his heart would skip a beat evoking an almost irresistible attraction to her. "Oh, this old thing?" she countered mimicking his wide smile, "I just had it lying around."

On the way to Split River, he spent the ride complaining about Debbie Gibson. Apparently, she kept calling him and begging him to take her back and go to homecoming together. "The second I told her we were going together at the fifth call she gave me, she hung up," he furthered as he soon indulged in the steaming coffee from his trusty thermos, before gently returning it to its designated spot in the cupholder. A soft scoff escaped Daniella's lips in response to his words, "good. She kind of deserves it. I don't even know why she never liked me. I didn't do anything."