I was at my locker the Monday morning after my kiss with Noah. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since our practice on Friday night. His date with The Interloper was Saturday night. I had to work on a paper all day Sunday, so there really was no time to get together.
Plus, I wasn’t all that interested to find out how his date went. That’s a lie. I was a little interested. That’s a lie too. I was completely consumed by thoughts of his date the entire weekend.
I startled when he came up behind me and whispered in my ear. “Mornin, Tweet.”
“Good morning.”
“I’ve missed you. I called you all weekend. I saw your mom yesterday. She said you were busy working on a paper.” He leaned his shoulder against the lockers.
“English,” I said.
Just then one of Noah’s teammates, Brad Johnson, walked up, slapped Noah on the back, and said, “Hey Stewart, heard you had a great time this weekend. I just got out of class with Brit. She couldn’t stop singing your praises, dude. Way to go.” As Brad walked off, Noah turned to me and shrugged.
Two other teammates, Jeremy and Spencer, came up. Spencer playfully grabbed the back of Noah’s neck, and said, “Heard you had a hot date this weekend. How about that, just a freshman and already a player.” Noah looked back at me as the guys walked off.
Innocently, I asked, “Your big date was this past weekend?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Play dumb. You’re no good at it, Tweet.”
“Well, it sounds like your first date was a success,” I said with just a tad bit of snarkiness in my voice.
“I would say my first date was perfect.”
I started shoving books around in my locker, not looking at him. I knew I was being ridiculous. I knew he had the date with her Saturday. As I banged things around, I could feel him smiling at me. The bastard.
“Uh…you about done beating up that innocent locker, Rocky?”
“Congratulations! I’m glad your first date was…”
“Perfect.” He was enjoying himself at my expense.
“Perfect,” I repeated, sounding pissed off. “Oh, did I tell you that I joined the school newspaper? You know, maybe I could write an article about having the perfect date and interview you and your perfect date since your date was so perfect.” My words got snippier the longer my sentence ran on.
“Do you have any idea how adorable you are right now?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Those guys are talking about my second date.”
“You’ve already had a second date?”
“Saturday night.”
“Saturday night?” My anger and confusion were about to go through the roof. “I thought Saturday night was your first date.”
“Friday night was my first date.”
I scrunched up my eyebrows, not understanding what he was talking about. “But you were with me all Friday night.”
He leaned in so close our noses were almost touching. His voice was low. “You didn’t think I wanted Brittani to be my first date and kiss, did you? I’ve shared all my firsts with you.” His eyes scanned my face as a shy smile played across his full lips.
Maintaining eye contact, he pushed off of the lockers, turned and then sauntered down the hall without saying another word, leaving me dazed, confused, and breathless. That had to be the sweetest, and hottest, thing any guy had ever said to any girl.
He had the power to fill me with 1000 lifetimes of happiness. He also had the power to bring me to my knees. Most people would jump at the chance for that much happiness, but not me. The more happiness you have, the more devastating the fall is, and there is always a fall, a crash,, or a collision of some kind. With all consuming, earth shattering happiness, there are always casualties, it’s unavoidable.
No, I’ll maintain my subpar happiness. I’ve had a taste of what it feels like when the fall starts. Just a taste, almost destroyed me.
I might not experience 1000 lifetimes of happiness, but I won’t be shattered into a million pieces that I can’t put back together. I’ll maintain subpar because it keeps everything intact, in place, under control.
(Note to self: Eating king size Hershey bar and drinking Diet Pepsi @11:25 pm, not a good idea. Hope what I just wrote makes sense tomorrow when I come down from my sucrose and caffeine (sucraffiene) overdose. Check to see if sucraffiene is an actual word. Once vetted, start to use it, so it will begin to infiltrate into society. Man, I am wired beyond belief.)
Academically, my freshman year had been okay. I ended the year with a B+ average. As usual, I missed my goal, but collected another ribbon for participation. Yay for me. I’m nothing if not tenacious, though, and it was a new school year. I needed to achieve that perfect A status as a sophomore and finally get that trophy.
The feelings I had towards Noah kept gaining strength. I got butterflies every time I saw him walk towards me, away from me, beside me. The closer he got, the more intense they became. I daydreamed about him constantly; during class, in my room, in the car, when I ate. Basically, he was on my mind every minute of every day. I felt warm and tingly when I thought about something he said to me or when he touched me. I got goose bumps every time I thought about our first kiss, and I thought about it often.
Mom caught me several times in a Noah induced haze. One morning over breakfast, she and Dad actually staged an intervention. She even had a handful of ‘Just Say No’ pamphlets from the 1980s. I think they were from her own personal stash when she was a teen.
At first, I thought I was just going through a passing phase, just an innocent crush. I had always loved Noah. It was something I did naturally, without thinking, like breathing. I figured when we started hugging more and holding hands, it was just a natural progression of our friendship. Then I noticed how it made me feel and apparently these feelings weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I thought we were both just ragging with hormones, it was a biological thing, and eventually it would go away. Well, I’m an idiot because just the opposite happened for me.
It was a beautiful day outside, so Beth and I decided to forgo the cafeteria and spend our lunch period in the courtyard area at school.
“Are you going to the dance?” She asked, as we were finishing up our lunch.
“What dance?”
“The TWIRP dance.”
“What’s that?”
“The Woman Is Required to Pay. Girls have to ask boys to go.”
“Then that would be a big fat nooo,” I said.
“You ought to go.”
“Why? I can’t dance.”
“It will be tons of fun.”
“I highly doubt that. Besides I don’t have anyone to go with.”
I balled up my empty bag of chips and tossed it in the direction of the trashcan, missing it by a foot and a half. I walked towards the crumpled bag, scooped it up, made another attempt at a basket, and missed again. How the hell did Emily score so many points during a basketball game with the basket hanging in the air, and I couldn’t toss a piece of garbage in a giant trashcan from a foot away. I made two more attempts before giving up.
“Screw it,” I said, walking back and sitting down on the bench.
“You have to ask a boy, silly.”
“Don’t do that again.”
“What?” Beth asked.
“Call me silly. Eccentric is fine. Quirky I like. Just not silly. I don’t like silly.”
“God, you’re weird sometimes.”
“Weird is acceptable as well.”
We had a few more minutes left during lunch period, so I decided to work on my color a little bit. Leaning back on the bench, I closed my eyes, and tilted my head up, letting the sun warm my face. I hadn’t been brave enough to get highlights in my hair, like Bitchani had suggested, but I had gotten some sun over the summer, and was trying to maintain.
Beth and I sat there in silence. She had been acting kind of strange lately, but I chalked it up to that was just Beth. She acted weird at times, especially when she had a boy on the brain. I peeked out the corner of my eye and saw her biting her nails.
“I’m thinking about asking Noah,” she said in a low breathy voice.
When I heard her words, the only body part that moved was my mouth when I asked, “Noah who, about what?”
“Noah Stewart, about going to the dance.”
I sat completely still for a full minute, attempting to process what she just told me. I tried to hide any visible signs of my increasing irritation, but my jaw was clench, and I could feel my nails digging into my thighs. The heat of anger and jealously surged inside me. Slowly I sat up and turned to face her. I put my best poker face on. I couldn’t let on to Beth how I was feeling. I needed to stay calm when I explained to her how incredibly stupid she was for even thinking about asking Noah.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said.
“Why?” She asked, lowering her hand from her mouth.
“Because it just is. He’s not going to go to a lame dance with you.”
“Why not?”
“Well, number one, he hates dancing. Number two, if he were going with someone, it’d be with me. It would be the first dance either of us went to and we do all our firsts together. Number three, the two of you can’t go out together without me.”
“Why can’t we?”
“Because I’m the glue,” I said,
“The glue? What?” Her face was pinched together in confusion.
“The glue. Noah and I were friends first. Then you moved in and I became your friend first. I introduced you to Noah. Then you became friends with him.”
Beth looked at me as if another head had sprouted from my neck. I slowed my speech down hoping my point would be clearer to her.
“I introduced you and Noah. You two wouldn’t be friends if it hadn’t been for me. The glue. I’m the common bond between the two of you. Noah and I can hang out together. You and I can hang out together. But you and Noah can’t hang out without me.” I placed my palm to my chest. “The glue. I’m the glue.”
Beth stared at me for a minute, and then shook her head. She looked down at her wringing hands and took a deep breath. “I’vealreadyaskedNoahtogoandhesaidyes.” She exhaled loudly.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve already asked Noah to go and he said yes.”
“How long have you and Noah been planning this little dance date?” I threw her a raised eyebrow, but kept my voice steady and calm.
“Not long,” she hesitated. “A couple of days… or weeks…or maybe a month.”
“A month!!” I leaned in closer to her.
Beth wouldn’t make eye contact with me as she stammered through her words. “I needed at least a month. I had to get a new dress and shoes and…”
“Why didn’t either of you tell me this? I should know about these things.”
“We weren’t sure how you would react. You’re a little weird when it comes to Noah.”
“Weird? You know that’s the second time you’ve referred to my friendship with him as weird,” I said, annoyed.
“Maybe weird is the wrong word. Possessive. You’re very possessive of Noah.”
“That is so not true.”
“You get crazy jealous when other girls come around him.”
“I don’t get jealous. I just don’t think they’re good enough for him.”
“Amanda, do you like Noah?” She asked.
“That’s a stupid question, of course, I like him. We’re best friends.”
“You know what I mean. Do you like him, like him?”
“Noah’s my best friend and he means the world to me.”
I wasn’t about to tell Beth what my feelings were for Noah. I was confused about them myself. I realized I couldn’t have him, but I didn’t want anyone else to have him either. I knew it was stupid and unfair, but it was how I felt.
“Fine. I don’t get you,” she paused. “Why don’t you ask a guy and come? It’ll be fun.” Picking up her backpack, she stood. “Look, I got to run to my locker before class. At least think about going to the dance.”
I watched as Beth walked away and into the main building. I wasn’t mad at her for wanting to go out with Noah. Every girl in this school wanted to. I was hurt and angry with Noah. I couldn’t remember ever being angry with him before. I didn’t understand why he hadn’t said anything to me about this date. We told each other everything. What had changed?
Maybe I should go to this dance. It might help me to see them together on an actual date. I had no idea who to ask. I certainly didn’t want to give a guy the wrong impression. I just needed a date for this dance that was all, nothing else. The dance was in a week, anyone would at this point.
I looked around the courtyard hoping my ‘date’ would magically appear. After seeing my prospects were slim to none, I sat, looking down as if the answer was written in the concrete.
Getting ready to head back to class, I picked up my backpack, glanced up, and there was my answer, sitting right across from me.
“Hey!” No response. “Hey!”
Vincent looked over each of his shoulders to see if anyone was behind him. “Are you speaking to me?” He asked.
Vincent Chamberlin was the smartest kid in the sophomore class, probably in the entire school actually. He was also a nerd and awkward as hell, but nice and harmless.
“Of course. Who else would I be speaking to?”
“Practically anyone besides me,” he said.
“Do you have plans this Friday night?”
“Seriously?” He paused, looking up as if his social schedule was written in the clouds. “No.”
“You want to go to this dance thing?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Technically.”
“Well…um…let me think about this for a minute. No one has ever asked me this question before.” He rested his chin between his thumb and index finger, running them up and down his jawline as he pondered my question. “You and I have known each other since kindergarten. Although, you haven’t really spoken to me since then or even acknowledge my existence.”
I couldn’t help my eye roll. Vincent was actually going to make me work for this. “I’m shy, what can I say. Yes or no?”
“Yes. It would be an honor to escort you to the dance. What time shall I pick you up?”
“Do you know where I live?”
“I’m not sure,” he said.
I stood. “I’ll meet you at the dance. No sense in cluttering your mind with my address.”
“Wouldn’t you like to go out to dinner before the dance?”
“I’d love to, but I think I’ll be so excited and nervous that if I ate before, I might spew all over you.” Vincent’s face scrunched up in disgust. Leaning towards him for emphasis, I continued, “You wouldn’t want my spew dripping off of you, would you?”
He leaned away, shaking his head rapidly. “I’ll meet you at the dance.”