Why is it that guys always complain about girls going to the restroom in groups? Don’t they realize that we have to reapply our makeup 20 times a day so they don’t freak out about our appearance?
What I don’t understand about guys is their obsession with a little ball filled with rock-like pieces that they kick around with their feet. Oh, and they have a jolly old time with it too. If they didn’t have to go to class, they would play hackey sack all day long. I just can’t comprehend it.
So that’s why I was standing by the cafeteria window with my Latin book in my arms watching a helpless bunch of idiots try to keep the ball off of the ground. It wasn’t that Taylor was included in the group. Of course not, if it were because of that reason, I would be standing there not only with a complete look of puzzlement, but also a look of total betrayal.
“Hey Alex…what’s wrong? You look like you just lost your best friend,” Shannon said to me, as she walked over from our lunch table.
Okay. So I lied.
I tried my best to configure my face into a look of nonchalant awareness. “Oh nothing…” I said. I looked back over at the hackey sack slackers. Scott had kicked the ball into the huge fountain in the middle of the schoolyard. I saw the disappointment in the guys eyes. Boo hoo. It’s a freaking ball.
“It is?” Shannon asked me amusingly. Did I say that outloud? Guess so.
I sighed heavily. “Yes, it is. I mean, who actually made up the stupid game? You know, I bet it was before television was invented. Poor sad individuals who had nothing else to do than stand around kicking a worthless ball until their unfortunate wives got their meal on the table.”
Shannon coughed beside me. “Um, Alex dear, why don’t you come sit down with us? You seem a little…weird today.”
I turned to her. “Me? Weird?” I asked worriedly. I had secretly hoped that I could get over this "thing" by myself without my best friends help.
“Why would you think that?”
Shannon narrowed her eyes and moved her head slightly forward to search my face for any hint of a problem. I prayed that she found nothing.
“Alex. What’s wrong. And you better tell me before the bell rings, because I am not going to be happy when I have to sit through history class with a serious secret hidden from my very ears.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you just get dramatic about it.” I looked back out the window. He was wearing green. My favorite color. It did strange things to my stomach. I didn’t know if I was simply appalled at myself for noticing his clothes, or I was just feeling the school meatloaf.
Shannon held out her hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Be a little…whatever, but I will find out about this,” she warned, slightly smiling and headed back to the table.
I just shrugged my shoulders. Why was it that my eyes were magnetized to the scene outside of the cafeteria window? Again, I peered back outside. He really was good at the ridiculous game, I realized. Too bad he was an insensitive jerk.
My body suddenly clenched. I bit my lip as his whole head swiveled to the right and he found me looking right at him.
“Uh oh…” I muttered, trying desperately to pull my eyes away from his grasp. But it wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working?
I watched in horror as he picked up his Jansport backpack and flung it over his shoulder. With a small wave he said goodbye to his group of friends and headed straight for the door to get into the cafeteria.
I started to panic. What was I going to do? Was he coming to talk to me? And why was I excited about that fact instead of completely wanting to kick him in the shins?
“Okay, Alex, just walk away and forget about him,” I told myself, heading for the door to get into the hallway. Luckily almost everyone was seated so I didn’t have to push myself through a crowd. I said a quick goodbye to my friends on the way out, and quickly pushed out the door into the long corridor. I was greeted by silence.
My heart was dropping with every step that I took. I wanted to go back, to talk to him, but I couldn’t understand why. He made a bet with his friends that he could kiss me. Why would I possibly want to be associated with a guy like that? I deserved better. Someone was out there waiting for me, and it wasn’t going to be a guy who thought that hurting another human being was a fun thing to do. But why did I want him to talk to me?
Because I saw something in his eyes that I couldn’t explain. No guy had ever looked at me like that. And I wanted him.
“Alexandria!” a voice called from behind me. I knew it was him. I didn’t have to turn around.
But I did anyways. His form appeared in my vision as I watched him jog along the length of the school hallway to meet up with me. Once he was within enough distance, he slowed to a walking pace. His face was turned upwards with a confused expression.
“Alex, why didn’t you stop? Didn’t you hear me?” he asked me, halting right in front of me. I saw sweat beads along his forehead from his hackey sack efforts outside.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, no, Taylor sorry,” I pushed out, starting to walk backwards.
His face turned upwards into a grin. “Are you afraid of me now or something?” he asked walking forwards to cover the distance I made.
The Cheshire Cat. You know, the one from Alice In Wonderland. That’s what that grin screamed. I’m quite surprised Alice never slapped that smile right off the cat’s face.
“Why are you grinning like that?” I asked him, quite surprised at myself.
He grinned even more. “What are you talking about?”
“You,” I replied, “grinning like you know something I don’t.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. His look turned worrisome. I wanted to laugh outloud…I had no idea that this could actually turn into a fun thing.
“You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re speechless.”
Note to self: have fun, but don’t flirt.
I shook my head and turned down the hall. I heard his footsteps as he tried to catch up with me. I gritted my teeth as he finally fell into step.
“What is with you today?” Taylor asked, reaching out to take my Latin book out of my hands.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to snatch back my book.
Keeping it out of my reach, he replied, “yeah, it really sounds like nothing…”
“It is nothing, haven’t you ever seen a girl have a bad day before? Now give me my book back, there’s no need for gallantry,” I said, trying yet again to grab for my book. I failed again, and my hand brushed the bare skin on his right arm. I stopped trying as soon as I felt my own skin jump from the touch.
“Hmmm…” he said, looking down at me, “jumpy. Out of breath, and kinda flushed. Whatever could be wrong?”
“NOTHING.”
His index finger reached down and poked me in the side. I jumped up yet again, and slapped him in the arm as hard as I could. But the only thing I succeeded in was hurting the heck out of my fingers. The boy packed heat.
The bell rang above our heads. We both looked up, and I suddenly realized that in about two seconds there were going to be hundreds of teenagers running about us trying to get into small and crowded classrooms. I held out my hand for my book.
He simply looked at me. “Alex.”
I blew my bangs out of my eyes for about the millionth time that day.
“What?”
“Is this about what I said last night in the car? About me wanting to kiss you?” he asked me with a puppy like look.
I gulped. Freaking mind reader…
“No, as a matter of fact Mr. Hanson, that whole convo has completely flown out of my mind. Now if you would be so kind as to hand me my book back, we can go on with our lives,” I retorted, trying to muster up some kind of mean look.
He was still staring. “Anything you want to tell me Alex?”
That did it. My body shut down. Every moving muscle turned to mush and all I could do was pray to God that my mouth was going to work correctly.
“No,” I repled hotly, “but is there something that you want to tell me?”
“Please tell me,” my body screamed, “just tell me that I misunderstood the phone conversation, and even if I didn’t, say that you backed out.” It seemed like forever until he finally spoke.
“No,” he said, without one trace of a smile. He placed my book back into my waiting hands.
I swallowed. It hurt.
“Well…good!” I replied as cheerfully as I could, stepping backwards. I could see the first string of people coming up the hall. “We don’t have anything to say to each other…”
Yeah, Alex. You need some applause for that one.
“Yeah,” he muttered, still glaring into my eyes.
I didn’t say anymore. I just turned around and walked quickly to my classroom.
*******************************************************
Cutting up frogs. To Mr. Herman is sounded like brain surgery. Did we really need a thorough explanation about how to handle the knife? I didn’t think so. That’s why I was kind of drowning out the balding teacher’s words as I twirled one of the knives around in my fingers.
Suddenly, a flash of white interrupted my thinking skills. I looked down at my desk, and realized a note had been thrown to me from the biology table to my right. I peered over and became familiar yet again with Taylor’s baby blue eyes looking straight through me.
You can imagine how I felt when I sat down at my bench in Biology and looked up to realize that Taylor was also in the same class. I made quite the scene walking away from him like that, hoping to escape him, but only making it worse. I had forgotten about his scheduling…almost the same as mine. Darn those computer printed schedules…
Looking down at the note, I opened it with almost shaky fingers. Blue ink welcomed me as I started to read the words.
I really don’t think twirling your scapel in a class where the teacher calls it a ‘love tool’ is a great thing to do.
I smiled slightly.
Oh, he said that? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.
I eyed the overly enthusiastic biology teacher to make sure he wasn’t looking, and tossed the letter back over to Taylor. Nicole, my lab partner, turned to me with a questioning glance. Her eyes were as big as saucers.
“Yes, Nicole,” I thought to myself, shrugging in her direction, “Miss Unpopularity is passing notes with Mr. Hotpants. Got a problem?”
In just minutes, the note was passed back to me.
You? Not paying attention? What would your father think about that?
I gritted my teeth. But in a good way.
Hmmm…I don’t know…what would he think about what you called him in the hallway yesterday?
Ouch. That hurt. Anyway, this note actually has a purpose you know…
Oh really. So worthless conversation is just not you, huh?
No conversation is worthless when I’m talking to you.
My heart thudded in my chest. “Oh dear sweet Romeo…you just might make me barf one of these days,” I thought. Okay, so maybe not barf in the “I’m disgusted” way. Just in the “I have butterflies because you’re actually talking to me” sense.
I had to look over at the teacher once again. He was reading about the origin of cutting up frogs in high schools. Cool, no trouble there.
Oh, how sweet. Who taught you to talk like that? Your mom?
Hm. Laughable, but not quite. Anyways, to get to my point…I need to see you.
My breath caught in my throat, and the knife I was holding collided with the countertop. My classmates eyes turned to stare at me, and my face contorted into a grimace. My teacher even looked at me with an evil eye.
I whispered the word “sorry,” and Mr. Herman went back to his teaching. It was weird how everyone continued to look at me…was I that quiet most of the time? Was this really a major thing?
I didn’t want to worry about it. Slowly, the students continued on with the lecture, and I was left with the act of responding to Taylor’s note. I figured a smart alleck tone would be suitable.
You are seeing me. Now what?
Niiccee. You know what I mean, Alex, I need to see you. We need to talk. Come over to my house after school?
After I got his answer, I sat there and debated with myself for a few minutes. I could tell Taylor was getting worried about my answer. But I really didn’t care.
We needed to talk. About what, the bet? Yeah, right, all Taylor wanted to do was drag me into his house and plant a big wet one on me. I wondered if he needed to videotape it or something…
I can’t. My dad wants me to start cleaning the attic as soon as I get home. Sorry.
Cool. Then I can help. We can talk and clean at the same time.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t need a videocamera…unless he had one stashed in his backpack…
You want to help clean the attic? I don’t think you would want to, I mean it’s really dusty and scary, and hot…you don’t want to.
Um, yes I do. You really don’t want to be in an attic all by yourself, do you? I mean…think of the spider situation.
He had a point.
Taylor. That is the stupidest thing you have ever said. Just because I am a girl does not mean that I need a guy to protect me from creepy spiders, alright?
Feminist much?
Ugh. I could always find the videotape and smash it into a million pieces…
Couldn’t I?
