Another memory

From chapter six:

I attended the Friday night dances at the high school cafeteria for a chance to squeeze up against two or three of the prettier girls in my class –—or those a year behind. That is, the ones who would dance with me. A sophomore I liked had a great tough-blonde look and came from a good family. Her father was the county sheriff. She said no to me two Friday dances in a row after I made the lonely walk from the boys’ side over to where groups of girls were chatting. I held back from a third try.

For the next dance, I wore aftershave under my arms. Pete had suggested deodorant. The problem was that my parents didn’t keep any deodorant around that I could find. I was afraid that walking into a drug store and asking for it would be as bad as asking for rubbers. That Friday, one of the girls I danced with told me I smelled nice. I decided to keep on with the aftershave.