by Sandy Hall
“Oh, the big one.”
“It was time. I needed to give them one last opportunity.” She pauses to blow her nose. “‘Opportunity’ is a hard word to say when you have a cold.”
“I know, baby,” I say sympathetically, even though I don’t have personal experience with that issue.
“Anyway. If this doesn’t work, at least I know I tried everything.”
“You have. You have gone above and beyond what any sane person would ever, or should ever, do for a pair of random students in their creative writing class.”
“Stop trying to make me feel ashamed for believing in the power of love.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel ashamed! I’m trying to make you realize that there’s nothing else you can do.”
“I could have run a contest in class.” Her eyes glaze over as her imagination runs wild. “And made them work in pairs, and then the prize would have been dinner at a restaurant.”
I look at her doubtfully. “Wasn’t that basically the plot of an episode of Glee?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t remember, I’ve taken too much cold medicine.”
“I’ll make you some tea. That should help with the memory loss.”
“Thank you!” she calls from the couch.
When I go back in barely three minutes later, she’s passed out, drooling on the couch.
Maribel (Lea’s roommate)
“Maribel?” Lea’s voice whispers from across the room.
I don’t respond.
“Maribel,” she says again, this time louder.
I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and barely even breathe.
“Maribel, maybe I should have written about my dad, or my grandma, or one of the Starbucks baristas.”
I think I might pass out from lack of oxygen when she throws a pillow at me.
“I know you’re awake.”
“Fine,” I say, tossing it back and rolling onto my side. “But why are we discussing this again? You know where I stand on it.”
“What if it’s terrible? What if he doesn’t appreciate it? What if he’s too mad to care? What if he’s decided to give up on me? What if I puke before I even have time to read it?”
“Lea. You are a wonderful person. He would be lucky to have you. But no one is forcing you to write this essay about him. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I tell her.
She’s about to speak, but I cut her off, because I know what she’s going to say.
“You need to stop obsessing.”
“If it was that easy, believe me, I would have.”
“I want to believe you, but it’s four a.m., and we’ve had this same conversation at least a dozen times in the past two days. Now go to sleep so you can look perfect and wonderful tomorrow when you read to Gabe.”
“All right. G’night.”
“G’night.”
It’s quiet for a few minutes.
“But what am I going to wear?” she wails into the darkness.
Sam (Gabe’s brother)
Gabe is sitting on a bench looking confused and lost. This is not an unusual look for him. He’s always sort of been that guy.
“Hey, why did you want to meet?” I ask.
“I need your advice.”
“Of course you do,” I say, sitting down on the bench. “You just need your big brother sometimes. I totally get it.”
“Can you read this?” he asks, handing me a sheet of paper and totally ignoring my big-brother comment.
“Um, sure.” I glance it over. It’s super short.
He looks at me expectantly.
“This is about Lea?”
He nods.
“It’s good.”
“Just good?”
“Well, yeah, I mean, what’s it for? Are you going to randomly hand it to her?”
“No, I’m going to read it, in class today.”
“Wow,” I say. And I mean it. I read the two paragraphs over again.
“Is that too embarrassing?”
“It could be, potentially, but if she likes you even a little bit, this will totally win her over.” I shake my head and read it again. “I feel like you reading it is … kind of amazing, actually.”
“I’m terrified.”
“It’s big. It’s bold. I would be shocked if you weren’t.”
“If I die of embarrassment or terror, tell Mom I love her.”
He stands up to leave.
“Good luck,” I say, seriously.
“Thanks.”
Inga (creative writing professor)
I feel about as nervous as Gabe looks, which gives me hope that he took the bait. I know he did as soon as I call the class to order and he raises his hand.
“Gabe?”
“Can I go first?”
“Sure! I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
He smiles weakly and takes a deep breath. He walks to the front of the class and I take a desk at the side. He’s gotten better at sharing this semester. He’s not the same kid he was when he stood up there back in the fall.
“All right, so.” He clears his throat and looks at me, though I’m not sure if the look is “help me” or “this is a bad idea.” “This is exactly a hundred words.”
“Great. Whenever you’re ready,” I say.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and chews his lip, before opening them wide and zeroing in on Lea.
Every time I see her, I’m always surprised. She keeps me on my toes. She smiles when I need her to, even though she could never know that I needed her to. I like the way she looks when she’s thinking. I like the way she looks at me when I’m thinking.
She talks to squirrels like they’re her friends. I think that says a lot about a person, the way they treat animals. It tells you how they’ll treat you when you’re not saying a word. That they’ll talk to you even if you don’t say much in return.
It’s over so fast I barely have time to notice whether or not he’s using adjectives and quite frankly it doesn’t really matter. He’s so earnest with his feelings that there’s no way I could ever give him less than an A. And he did do a good job describing Lea.
I turn to look at her and she is, of course, sitting there red faced and smiling, squirming slightly in her seat. He doesn’t look at her, just drops his printout on my desk and takes his seat in the back.
“Thanks, Gabe,” I say. He nods and looks like he’s in the throes of panic.
“So, who would like to follow up that great example?”
“Isn’t ‘surprised’ an adjective?” Hillary says.
“Shut up, Hillary,” Lea mutters, taking the words out of my mouth. “I’ll go next.”
Hillary sits there, stunned and silent, mouth hanging open as Lea gets up to read.
“Not to be outdone by Gabe,” she says, catching his attention, “here’s my description, also exactly a hundred words.”
“Excellent.” I make a “go ahead” gesture. I can still feel Hillary fuming somewhere behind me, but I give Lea my full attention.
He stands like he doesn’t want anyone to look at him. I look anyway because I want to, because his posture forces me to. If he didn’t want me to look, he’d have to stop existing altogether. Because I never know when he might look back. I want to make sure I’m prepared.
If I miss my moment, I may never get another chance. And if I don’t get another chance, he’ll never know that I was looking in the first place. Because that’s the kind of person he is, the kind of person that makes you want to look.
I can’t wait to tell Pam that they both took the bait, and they ran with it. I am so impressed with both of them. I give Lea a thumbs-up as she hands me her paper and then takes her seat.
I take a second to turn and look at Gabe. He’s hunched over at his desk, his arms crossed, hugging himself, but his expression is priceless. His smile looks like it’s ready to explode off his face and he keeps blinking and shaking his head.
“All right, so far, so good. Let’s kee
p moving!” I say.
Bench (on the green)
Why is it that as soon as the days get warmer, I have to take part in every personal conversation on Earth? Don’t these kids ever talk in private?
As soon as this ass took a seat, I knew I was in for it. Even if it’s my favorite rear end, the best butt I’ve ever known, I can tell by the way he’s sitting that he’s waiting for someone.
“Hi,” a female voice says.
“Hi,” the butt owner says.
They’re quiet for a long minute.
“Can I sit?” the girl asks.
“Of course.” Nobody ever asks me if they can sit.
“So…”
“I liked your essay.”
“I liked yours, too.”
More silence.
“I’m so sorry about the other night,” the girl says. “It’s all I can think about and I was trying to come up with some better way to say it. And if I didn’t think it would be completely humiliating I would have stood in front of the class and said it. But then I started thinking about Hillary listening and judging. I just…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I’m sorry I was stupid.”
“No way. I was way more stupid.”
“Maybe we should both try to be less stupid. I hereby pledge to make you act less stupid,” she says, holding her hand up like she’s taking an oath.
“For the record, I’ll still probably be pretty stupid sometimes. I make no promises that you’ll have the positive influence on me that you assume you’ll have.”
“You know I don’t really think you’re stupid.”
“Well, how about this,” he says, pausing for a long moment. “A compromise. Sometimes I act stupid.”
“Of course. But everyone acts stupid sometimes. You don’t think I was being stupid when I basically attacked you about talking to Hillary?”
“I don’t know, I thought it was kind of cute.”
“You say that now, but I promise you, it was stupid.”
“This conversation is kind of stupid.”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“I think we’re overusing the word ‘stupid.’ We’ll have to put that on the no-no list along with ‘stuff.’”
She laughs. “We are, but that’s okay. Nothing wrong with pointless conversation sometimes. It’s like … practice.”
“Why, do we have some kind of big conversational exam coming up?”
She shifts to sit up straighter and he mirrors her movement. I think they must look at each other for a long time. At least I have a few minutes of peace and quiet.
“Stop looking at my ear,” he says.
“I’m not looking at your ear.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Well, now I am,” she says, squinting at his ear. “It’s totally invisible.”
“It’s not a big deal, it’s really tiny,” he says.
“And it helps?” she asks. She shifts closer to him, like she was just waiting for an excuse to enter his personal bubble.
He inches toward her, too, until their legs are touching. “The doctor wasn’t sure if this kind would work for me, but I guess I lucked out.”
“It seems like maybe you did.” Her voice is so soft now, I’m not sure I’d be able to hear her if they weren’t sitting right here. “I like you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. The essay helped me figure that out.”
“That’s what I was hoping.”
“Me too, I mean, I like you, too.”
“Do you have anywhere you need to be right now?”
“Nowhere.”
They sag into each other and I can tell I’m going to be stuck with them for a while.
I suppose there are worse couples to have to listen to.
Maxine (a waitress)
When they walk in, I can immediately tell something is different. Everything about them is less tense, like all of the anxiety has washed out of them. Not to mention the fact that they’re actually coming in together, at the same time, and he’s holding the door for her, like the good fella I knew he could be.
“Pick a seat,” I tell them. It’s quiet; the semester is almost over and one of the young girls called in sick tonight, so I’m hostessing and waitressing. I don’t mind a bit, particularly if it means I get to see my favorite couple.
“How are you?” she asks, turning toward me.
“Well, I’m peachy,” I tell her. “How are you two tonight?”
“I don’t know about Gabe, but I’m starving,” she says.
“Me too,” he agrees.
“What have you two been up to today?” I ask. I’m feeling nosy.
“We took the train into the city and walked around mostly,” he says.
“It was sort of perfect,” she says.
“Sounds like you had a good time,” I say.
They nod and smile.
“Do you all need another minute or two to decide?”
“Yes, please,” she says.
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
I go behind the counter and start filling saltshakers, making sure to stay within earshot because there’s something about these two that I can’t get enough of.
“Hey, Lea,” the boy says.
“Mmm? I can’t decide between grilled cheese and an omelet.”
“Look up for a second,” he says.
She does.
“I’ve been meaning to do this all day.” He leans across the table and plants her one right on the lips and then pulls back after a few seconds.
“That was a good idea,” she says.
Oh, these two sweethearts are going to be the end of me.
Squirrel!
The boy and the girl are back and actually together. I race toward them, ready to throw myself at their feet for whatever delicious treat they’ve brought me this time.
They’re sitting on my favorite bench and his arm is around her and their heads are close and they’re talking.
“So, you want to know the basics,” she says, twining their hands together.
“Yeah, I feel like I don’t know much about you. I know lots of tidbits, but very few facts. Stuff like parents, siblings, birthday, favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Not very interesting. Divorced parents, I mostly see my dad because my mom’s remarried with two kids of her own that she’s raising more attentively than she ever did with me.” She pauses. “Not that I’m super bitter about it or anything.”
“Sucks,” he says. I like how he’s twirling her hair around his finger. I wish someone would twirl my tail like that.
She shrugs. “I’m getting over it.”
“How do you get over something like that?”
“This conversation might be more like fourth-date material,” she says. “So I’m going to move on to the rest of those questions. Birthday, June fourth.”
“Coming up soon,” he says. “Let me add that to the old calendar.”
“Favorite ice cream flavor would have to be mint chocolate chip.”
“I will buy you a tub of it for your birthday.…”
She giggles and leans in closer to him.
I decide not to bother them. I have plenty to eat.
Frank (Chinese-food delivery guy)
Only a couple of nights until the end of the school year and I’m delivering out to the freshman dorms again. I should be at home studying for my physics final, but I could really use the money. Maybe I should get someone to read me my notes while I drive.
When I bring the order up to the door, the guy and girl I always assume are dating are actually sitting outside.
“That’s for us,” the girl says.
“Hey, you finally took my advice and ordered together!”
They laugh.
“I was hoping that would happen.”
“You’re not the only one,” the boy says.
They give me an awesome tip.
Danny (Lea’s friend)
I am storming Lea’s dorm room in the name of what the hell is going on with her and Gabe. I haven’t heard from her since Starbucks last week and I need to get the update. I can barely concentrate on studying for finals.
I come down the hallway and her door is just barely ajar. Excellent, that means she’s probably in there and I can corner her and get the information I’m looking for.
I push the door open wide.
“Azalea Fong,” I say, putting on my most serious voice.
Then I notice the litter of Chinese food containers across the dresser. And the TV playing an episode of what I think is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Oh dear, and there are two people tangled up in each other in a nest of pillows on the floor.
I cover my eyes and yelp as I turn to leave.
“Danny?” Lea gasps, sitting up.
Gabe sits up, too.
Luckily they’re both fully clothed.
“I am so sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay,” Lea says, standing up. Gabe follows suit, although he stands a little behind her and doesn’t quite meet my eyes. She takes his arm and pulls him in front of her.
“Gabe, this is Danny.”
I lean over to shake his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Gabe says.
“We’ve actually met once or twice. You lived on the same floor with my housemate Maureen.”
“Did you used to have blond hair?” Gabe asks, examining my face.
“It was a phase.”
“Oh, yeah! I asked about your jeans once because my mom’s always bugging me about what brand jeans I want. And I kind of don’t care about brands. But she does, I guess.”
Everything makes a lot more sense now.
“Well, I’ll let you two get back to your date.”
“Thanks, Danny,” Lea says, reaching to give me a hug. “We’ll talk soon, I promise.”
“Pinky promise?”
She rolls her eyes, but hooks her pinky to mine.
I close the door behind me as I leave, so no more stragglers interrupt them.
Well, that was mortifying.
But my God, they’re adorable.
Acknowledgments
I have a feeling this might get slightly out of hand, so let’s start at the very beginning with Jean Feiwel. Without her brilliant idea to mix young adult books and The X Factor, this wouldn’t be happening. I appreciate everything that she’s done for me.
