Dancing Dudes by Mike Knudson Page A

reckon this makes us real dancin’ dudes.”
    “I reckon you’re right,” I answered.
    “And I don’t know what got into you back there,” Graham added. “You know, leaving Heidi to dance with Mrs. Gibson . . . but I have to admit that was mighty nice of you. And I reckon manly rule number six must be: Always do something nice for an old lady.”
    “Thanks, coach,” I said. But he wasn’t listening. “Graham?” I waved my hand in front of his face. He was staring at something over by the school doors. It was Kelly.
    “I’d like to stay and chat,” Graham said, his eyes still focused on Kelly, “but I see a cowgirl over there all alone. I think I’ll just mosey on over and see if I can interest her in one final do-si-do.” He shuffled away like he was still dancing. I laughed as I turned to go find my parents.
    “Whoa, sorry,” I said, turning and bumping into someone. “Oh, hey, Heidi,” I said. “Um . . . great dancing out there.” I hoped I hadn’t hurt her feelings by choosing to dance with Mrs. Gibson instead of her. “Sorry, Heidi, I really wanted to dance with you, and I hope you don’t think—”
    “Well, this is what I think,” Heidi said, smiling. “I reckon you were just being a darn nice cowboy.”
    Suddenly I had a funny feeling inside. It was a good funny feeling. I smiled back at her. “Shoooot, little lady,” I said, adjusting my cowboy hat farther back on my head. “That’s awful kind of you. May I walk you to your horse?” I said. I held out my arm and we both laughed.
    “Why, that would be mighty nice, cowboy,” Heidi said, taking my arm, and together we walked into the sunset. Well, into the parking lot.