Creative Writing: El Presidio Santa Barbara's Founding Day

El Presidio Santa Barbara’s Founding Day Extravaganza! Part 2: The Candlelight Dinner, The Guests Arrive.

At six, mom sends me to open the chapel doors. My job is to make everybody stand in a line and tell me their last names. After I check them off a list, I’m supposed to run up to Jefra who will announce them to the room. When Mom told Ed, Jefra and I the plan, Jefra clapped her hands together and said, “Isn’t that fancy?”
“Boxer,” barks the first guest, not waiting for me to check off her name, but marching up the chapel stairs so fast that I have to sprint past her to whisper, “Last name’s Boxer,” to Jefra who nods. I pull up my skirt some, then I sprint back to the front step where a large group is waiting for me. A couple of seconds

Then she thanks about fifty people, but she doesn’t say anything about how I probably got skin cancer from working in the sun all day, or about how my shoulders are so sore from lighting candles that I can hardly bring my cup to my mouth without crying out in pain. She doesn’t mention Jefra or Dad either, but she does say, “And none of this could have been done without the help of Ed!” But even that doesn’t matter because Ed isn’t even in the room anymore. Then mom says, “Presenting… the Harvard Club Krokodiloes!” and everybody claps a whole bunch as dozen boys in tuxes file to the front of the

Mom claps and says something like, “delightful!” Everybody is watching us, laughing like they’re in on some joke. The boys still got my hand, and when he’s got me to the front of the stage, he asks for my name, then he says, “And are you single?” My armpits are prickling, and my hand is so sweaty, I don’t know how the boy can stand to keep holding it. I sorta throw my hands in the air and move my head around until the boy says, “Good, that’s good.” Then, still holding my hand, he starts to sing, “Baby, I need your lovin’, got to have all your lovin’.” A chair appears from nowhere, and the boy sits, pulling me down on his lap and sorta shaking me around some. While everybody else sings the chorus, the boy tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and whispers, “Smile, act happy.” I try to smile, but I think it comes out as a grimace. The boys’ knees are incredible pointy, and I’m worried that I’m crushing