When You Were Young

Prudence blushed with embarrassment as she said, "We're not really doing a lot. Wendell and I are having dinner at home with some of our friends."

"Oh, I'm sorry to carry on so. I'm sure you'll have a marvelous time." Suzie eyed Wendell suspiciously as she always did. Prudence knew it required an act of will for Suzie not to comment on Wendell's wrinkled T-shirt and corduroy pants or his wild hair sticking out at all angles. He took an involuntary step back towards the door, pretending to study a rack of T-shirts.

"I better go get that dress," Prudence said. She hurried into the back room, where a pile of unfinished garments awaited her. She wished she could sit back here and work on them, losing herself in the steady hum of the sewing machine. She thought of Wendell standing out there with Suzie and grabbed the dress-dark green velvet with gold embroidery-from where it hung.

Wendell looked ready to leap into her arms when she returned. "That is such a lovely dress," Suzie said. "It will really bring out the color of your eyes."

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"If you want to come in a little later than usual I'll understand," Suzie said with a wink. Prudence blushed again and then followed Wendell through the door.

"That is a nice dress," he said. "You made it?"

"Mostly. Suzie helped me with the embroidery."

"I can't wait to see you in it." He held open the door of Mrs. Schulman's car for her. Since Mrs. Schulman didn't need the car most of the time, she allowed Prudence to borrow it on the condition Prudence bring her some fudge once a week.

Neither Prudence nor Wendell had an official license or permit to drive, but there was a general understanding brokered by Mr. Pryde with the sheriff to leave them alone so long as they obeyed the law. Wendell took a minute to adjust the seat to accommodate his shorter legs. Then he backed out of the parking spot and headed towards Mr. Pryde's house.

They said little on the way there. She suspected Wendell was still annoyed about the scene at the dock. She hoped he got over it once the party started. Sweet Sixteen shouldn't mean much to her-she could have turned sixteen dozens of times over the last three hundred fifty years-and yet she couldn't deny a nervous flutter in her stomach as they neared Mr. Pryde's house. This was another stepping-stone on the path to womanhood. She thought again of what Wendell had said. Shouldn't a woman be allowed to live her own life?