It was at that party that, finally overcoming my timidity, inspired by tales only half understood and overheard among older boys, I asked Jessie to spend New Year's Eve with me. Lovingly, she accepted, and so great was my emotion that all I could think of saying was, ``You're amazing, you know?'' Later, we agreed to think of how we wished to spend that night. We would write to one another and make a definite plan. She was terribly pleased.

Among my school and neighborhood friends, during the next months, I bragged and swaggered and pompously described my impending date. But though I boasted and gave off a dapper front, I was beneath it all frightened. It would be the first time I had ever been completely alone with a girl I loved. I had no idea of what subjects one discussed when alone with a girl, or how one behaved: Should I hold her hand while walking or only when crossing the street? Should I bring along a corsage or send one to her? Was it preferable to meet her at home or in the city? Should I accompany her to the door of her home, or should I ask to be invited in? In or out, should I kiss her good-night? All this was unknown to me, and yet I had dared to ask her out for the most important night of the year!

When in one letter Jessica informed me that her father did not like the idea of her going out alone on New Year's Eve, I knew for a moment an immense relief; but the letter went on: she had cried, she had implored, she had been miserable at his refusal, and finally he had relented -- and now how happy she was, how expectant!