Prom night ends--almost--with an bang. And a whimper.  A decision must be made, but...is it the right one? And will our boy really be able to do what needs to be done?

Of COURSE I'm not going to tell you! Read on and see:

I hoisted 200 something pounds of Lakesha into the air and ran us back away from the scene of the crash. Only the crash didn't actually happen.

The cars all managed to make sharp turns, kicking up a haboob of dust we couldn't see anything through. But we could hear tires screeching and engines roaring, and inside the hall everybody was running for the exits.

"What the hell's goin' on?!" Lakesha asked me. She was clinging to my arm without any hesitation by then, watching all these cars full of kids bumping over the cactuses and rocks and ruts out there, trying to get away from the cop cars chasing right after them.

And then this one cop came running up to me yelling, "Shut it down! Shut it down! Tell those guys—"

"We've got it," some other guy yelled—that assistant principal that had such a crush on Wyatt, actually. He ran up behind the cop with his two way radio by his ear looking past the cop and dead at me.

"You go back inside," he said to me.

"He wanted me to ask the—"

"I want you back inside! Go!" he bellowed at me.

And the old Lakesha barked, "Damn! Boy jus' tryin'a help!"

But Mr. AP gave me a look that had so many emotions in it I couldn't read them all at once. And then some of the male teachers ran up and started yammering at him, so he ran off after them, barking orders into his radio.

This little blonde woman took off toward him, too—his wife. I knew it as soon as I saw her. And instead of paying attention to the riot going on all around me, I stood there watching her for a minute.

I could see their whole marriage in her. No, really. She was that kind of cute, sort of housewifey woman you saw with a couple of even cuter kids running up and down the aisles of grocery stores. The kind you know is married to some nice guy who's proud to work hard all day so she can stay home and chase those kids around.

But I also knew, as soon as I saw her, why he wanted Wyatt. First off, Wyatt's not cute. She's beautiful. As beautiful as that desert they were tearing to pieces out there. Wild and scary and unknowable.

And she keeps shape shifting on you. For real, she's like a dust devil. How they never go where you think they're going. And can whirl right over you, too, before you know it. Spin your world around and leave you there trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Only you can't figure her out. Because Wyatt is like one of those poems you have to switch your mind off to understand. The AP's wife was like those Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "How Do I Love Thee," poems that say everything right out. Heart glued to sleeve.

So her husband couldn't read somebody like Wyatt. But I could see why he wanted to try. And I felt for him, out there trying to corral those kids and cars. That was his life. Forever chasing after stuff he couldn't handle for reasons he couldn't understand.

See, his life was choking him like all that dust out there--that's where all that anger came from. Cause cute gets old. Loses its charm. But deep beauty, the wild kind that keeps changing and fascinating you all the time, that can feed your soul forever. And the tiny taste he'd had had messed his mind up.

I knew the feeling.

But I had to wake up from my little poetic pause when some guy walked up behind me and said, "They want us to shut it down. Whaddaya say?" It was one of the Vegas DJs, grinning like he was loving all the chaos. Which he was probably used to, actually, from his EDM work.

"You do that, you gon' have a sho' nuff riot out here," Lakesha warned me.

"She's right," I told him. "Let's crank it! Open all the doors an let 'er rip!"

He saluted me, said, "Roger that," and ran off. And I ran over to the AP and said, "Let 'em in! The hall's not even close to full!"

Dude was not happy to see me. He hissed, "What'd I tell you?!"

"I know what you told me, but just listen up a sec!"

His eyes shot a red hot hole in my head. And he said, "I think you've caused enough trouble, son."

Yeah, this wasn't about the party, this was personal. I didn't know if he actually knew I'd stolen his dream girl or just suspected something. But I was at the top of his shit list for sure.

So I just planted my feet and said, "You're gonna have a lot more trouble on your hands if you don't hear me out."

"They've got the road blocked," some cop ran up and told him.

So I looked at the cop and said, "Here, listen. The DJs are gonna crank it up to eleven so they can have their own party out here. If we just direct traffic and get the cars lined up--"

The cop leaned over to his little radio thing on his shirt and yelled, "Okay, Riley, we're gonna get 'em in rows over--wait, I'm comin'! Hang on," as he went running back into the craziness.

And the AP looked at me, yelled, "Take  that girl inside and get the hell outta my face," and ran  after him.

And Lakesha said, "That man done gone crazy!"

"Everything's gone crazy," I said.

But actually, now that the cops and security people were directing the cars, like those people at concerts who wave you toward a parking space as you drive in, a lot of the crazy was dying down.

And the one DJ climbed up on the roof of this truck like a big old chimp, turned on his little headset mic and went, "Here are the orders from headquarters, ladies and gentlemen! And I think you'll like what you hear, so listen up!"

I didn't hear the whole spiel, but I heard the kids whooping and hollering, so I figured we were home free. In fact, a bunch of DeGrazia kids went out there with them. But I took hold of Lakesha and headed back inside. Where somebody grabbed the tail of my jacket and almost made me fall over backwards.

I turned and looked up into the eyes of Wyatt's teacher friend, Delores, who was giving me quite the glare.

She said, "You'n' me need to talk."

And Lakesha went, "Oh, shit..." under her breath. But then she gave Delores a glare like she was protecting me or something, and said, "It ain't his fault!"

"Was I talking to you, Missy Thing?" Delores asked her. She had on this ensemble that was 'way too classy for prom. And her attitude matched it. She wasn't about to let a coupla snot nosed kids ruffle those fine feathers.

So I said, "Go on back, okay? I think the worst is over."

"Don't look like it," Lakesha said.

"Go on back, now, tough guy," I said. And her eyes softened, but she kept looking back, looking back...

And once she disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor, I turned to Delores, who was still giving me serious attitude.

So I said, "It's that bad?"

She said, "Come with me," and started walking away at a pretty brisk pace.

So I followed her down this little hallway that led to the kitchen or something, and we went into a storage area full of chairs and props and stuff that they used at their various gatherings.

Once we got in there, she sort of glanced to make sure nobody had followed us, which made me really nervous. But I tried to look amused and said, "What is this, the time out room?"

"I don't have time to play right now," she said. "So let me cut right to the chase."

That scared me even more. Until she said, "Where is she?"

Pow. Right in the kisser. I even slumped over sort of like she'd socked me.

And her face changed. And she said, "You don't know?"

"Do I look like I know?" is all I could say. I didn't mean to disrespect her like that, though, so I said, "I'm sorry. I just—what's going on?"

"You haven't heard from Wyatt, then?"

"Not since—she's in LA, right?"

She heaved a really big sigh and said, "She was."

"But?"

She watched me for a minute. And then she said, "When she realized she wouldn't be much more than a glorified attendance clerk, she took off."

"Took off, like—"

"Grabbed her bags and blazed," Delores said. "Two days into the training, they called me into the office to ask me if I knew where she went."

I said, "Wow," but I felt, "Ho-ly shit." She'd knocked the wind out of me again.

And she shook her head and said, "Wow, huh?"

"I'm just—I mean, what...are they gonna do to her?"

"Oh, now, he's concerned."

"C'mon!"

She folded her arms and said, "She on unpaid leave. But they'll fire her when she comes back."

"But that's breach of contract though, right?"

"She breached her contract," Delores said. "She went AWOL. And on top of that, she wasted about ten grand. Those damned trainings are expensive as hell and she just up and walks."

I was trying to wrap my head around all this when she started laughing all of a sudden. I gave her a frown, but she kept chuckling for a second or two.

And then she said, "Yeah, my girl pitched a bitch up in there, before she left, though. And I'm proud of her, too. Prouder than I was."

The moment of truth had arrived. She knew everything. And did not like it one bit.

"I pitched a bitch, too," she said, sort of raising her chin. "About you. But she pitched it right back at me."

That threw me off my game a little. So all I said was, "Really?"

An she smiled a little, and said, "Oh, yes! She told me exactly where to go, honey."

That made me smile, too. But then her smile died, and we were back to trying to stare each other down.

But she finally sighed and said, "Son, there's just no way this can end but badly."

I said, "Not necessarily," which was lame but my brain was fried.

She shook her head, folded her arms, and said, "Well, if you can show me another way to look at it, I'd be grateful. So I can stop worrying about her crazy ass. Although she's already probably lost her job, so I don't have to worry about that anymore."

I ran a hand through my do, trying to think of something to say. She was being sincere. And kind of nice, really, considering.

But all I could come up with was, "Look, I understand why you're worried."

"I don't think you do. Cause if you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Okay, what don't I understand then?"

She shook her head, folded those arms again, and said, "Well...you're at the prom tonight, son. Think about that for starters."

"Only because I wanted them to have a prom."

She chuckled again, and said, "Yeah, you the man, huh?"

"C'mon, I know what you mean."

"You know everything. You can do everything. But that girl's out there--"

"That's the only thing that matters," I said.

We both stood there thinking that through for a few seconds. And then Delores gave me this really nice smile and said, "But you know, for the first time in a long time, that woman stood up for herself. And those kids. She saw what a joke it was--"

"You keep saying that, but, like...well, what got her so upset?"

"The whole damned thing was scripted. She had to read from a book like when we give those damned tests every year and we all have to say the same thing."

"What do you mean, scripted?"

"I mean, she wasn't going to be teaching anymore. Ones that stayed told me it's this book of lessons you read through. If you deviate from the script, it corrupts the data."

She smirked when she said that last part. And gave a little snort.

"They got this big grant so they could buy a program that would make sure those kids didn't lower their test scores," she said. "That's all it's about, getting them ready for the big tests. And they were training Wyatt and the other two so that none of their teachers, the ones already over there at the new school, would have to deal with it. Or our kids."

"And she told them where they could go, too, right?"

"She told them more'n' that. She asked them if they would want their own children to be taught like that, day in and day out. And I guess after they hemmed and hawed around for a minute, one of 'em said something about how the kids she'd be working with would benefit from a more formal structure or...I don't know. But she said she didn't want to be a prison guard."

"She said that?"

"Yep, she did," Delores said. And then she sighed and said, "She found her dignity again that day. And now you wanna go running after her, don't you? So she can get all confused again."

"I just want to know if she's okay."

She threw both hands skyward and yelled, "Oh, my Lord! She hasn't been okay since the day she met you!"

Swear to God, it felt like she'd poured one of those big old coolers full of ice water over me like they do to the coaches after they win the big game, you know? Only we weren't celebrating, we were fighting. In fact, if they'd poured some ice water on me it would've turned to steam, I was so mad.

I said, "She was miserable the day she met me! She was sad and scared and didn't know which way was up! You think you know her so well, you're such a goddamned good friend, how come she was sleep walking through life, then? Hidin' in that little house, shut away from the whole world—I care about that woman as much as you do. More!"

And boy, Miss Delores stood up so tall I felt like David facing Goliath.

And she said, "Listen here, sonny boy. I know 'er better than you do. And I know about bein' a woman on top of all that—a tired woman, who doesn't know how she's going to face another day. Yes! I know about that! Herbert came to me late in life. And I thank God every day for that. And I know how she must've felt, when those tired eyes looked up and saw you standing there looking like a dream come true. Beat up as she was, hell, who could blame her?"

When I tried to speak she held up a palm and said, "No, no. You're used to runnin' things, but today you're going to listen to me, Mr. Man. You understand?"

I settled down. Mostly because she was older than me and also because she was really, really upset. Like, almost on the verge of tears by then. Angry tears. Like the ones I shed for Lakesha not too long before.

But she squared her shoulders and said, "She's found her way out of the wilderness—maybe with your help. I'll give you that. But if you're so in love and all, maybe you should think more about what's she needs than what you want."

I couldn't think, though. Because if I did...if I really did...

I deflated like a damned soufflé.

And I must've looked pretty pitiful, because she came over and put a hand on my shoulder and said, "These kids had a night, though. They surely did. When you do things like this, out of the goodness of your heart, you are a man. A helluva man. Better than most. So be a man. And let her be the woman she was meant to be."

I couldn't even look at her anymore. But she gave my shoulder a pat and said, "Lemme go see what's goin' on out there," and rushed off to let all that sink in.

But I just fell back against this big stack of boxes. I felt like she'd gutted me or something. I didn't have a heart or a soul or the energy to stand up straight, even.

And then I felt another hand on my shoulder. And I knew who it was.

"She blamin' you for everything, right?" Lakesha asked me.

I said, "She's just...worried."

"Well, I sho' hope she don't come back nex' fall like they say."

"I thought she retired."

"Did, but they fired Miss Wyatt. Or she kinda quit and then they fired her--you din know?"

I said, "Not 'til she told me just now," as nonchalant as I could.

And Lakesha said, "Well, she seen that place they was gon' put y'all in. You heard about that, din' you?"

When I just stared, she said, "They got this big ol' buildin' about three blocks away from the main school been empty since the damned 60s. They be breakin' in there to shoot up'n' whatnot. Look like it's about to fall down."

"You've been there?"

"Parents fount out about it," she said. "And she's the one told 'em. Seem like they kep' pickin' on 'er 'til she just had to quit."

"That's not like her, though. To leave you guys like that."

"Yeah, but a person cain't let theyself be laughed at like that. I bet she gon' go work on the reservation again."

Shot through the heart again. I was going to be a piece of Swiss cheese before the night was over.

I said, "She told you that?"

"Naw, that's jus' what I heard," Lakesha said. "She not even allowed on campus. Cause they don't want her talkin' to us about nothin'."

We both stood there looking like we'd died. And then she lit up all of a sudden and said, "Dude! You know what? You should ax them what they're gonna do with that big old empty school building once we gone! You could start up a charter school, all the money you got!"

Some little spark started up in me, too--I'd had that idea before myself. But now it had to be more than just a gleam in my eyes.

And she must've seen that gleam in my eyes, because she said, "And let Miss Wyatt be principal or sum. Kid's be linin' up to get in, I bet."

I could almost breathe again. I mean, just like that, that one little idea pulled me back from the brink of insanity. Gave me something new to live for.

I winked at her and said, "We'll name it after you."

And she socked me and said, "Shut up, crazy thing. Who gone sen' their kids to a school named 'Lakesha?'"

But I gave her another bear hug. I would've bought her a hundred old school buildings, if she'd asked me to. And put "Lakesha Academy" up on every one of 'em in big old LED lights.

To this day, I choke up when I think of my night with Queen Lakesha and her Technicolor dream dress.

But even she  couldn't make me feel good about the other thing I was going to have to do.