Awkward

A Story by John Pollock

A heartbroken teen recalls the month-long relationship he had with the girl of his dreams and struggles to come to terms with their break-up. Will he learn to let go, or will he be awkward forever?

Awkward

‘Taking Studio Art was a terrible decision’ I thought. As soon as Mrs. Meiers handed out the syllabus for the class, there was a collective sigh throughout the classroom. “Okay,” Mrs. Meiers said, “Your first assignment of the year will be to decorate your portfolio. You will be putting all your work in the portfolio for the entire year.” Two boys in the back put their heads down and groaned. “You’re going to be looking at this thing for the rest of the year,” Mrs. Meiers said, “So you might as well make it look good.”

I looked at my blank portfolio, having no idea where to begin, ‘I guess I should just draw.’ I thought. So I got to work drawing all over the front of the portfolio. I drew blindly, not really paying attention, and almost missed it when someone said, “Is that a TARDIS?”

I turned around, and a girl was staring at my work. I looked back down at my portfolio and saw that I was drawing a TARDIS right across the middle of the folder.

“Uhhhh, yeah.” I said, sheepishly.

“Oh my god!” she said, “I love Doctor Who!”

“Really?” I said. I didn’t know anybody else in the school who watched Doctor Who.

“Yeah,” she said, “I watch it all the time!”

We laughed. It wasn’t that great of a drawing, but she seemed to like it, so I smiled. Then I realized we didn’t know each other.

“My name’s Robert,” I said, “Robert Donovan. I just moved here.”

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Nicole Anderson.” We shook hands. “Very nice to meet you.”

. . .

I kept my head down the entire way to class, just in case she was in the hallway. Only I knew she wasn’t. By this time, I knew her schedule like it was mine. But, just as a precaution, I looked down anyway. Or maybe it was out of habit? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Awkward eye contact would’ve been too painful right now. I bumped into someone on the way, and I heard him say, “Watch where you’re going, f****t!” I guess it was the school joke that I was a raging homosexual, and everyone just started taking it seriously.

My locker was at the very end of the hallway, nestled in between the other lockers and a wall, which was inconvenient. The door was also sticky, and would always catch on the latch. I tugged back and stumbled as the door swung open, causing everyone in the hallway to stare and giggle. My binder fell out of the locker and spilt everywhere, causing papers to scatter across the dirty floor. That didn’t stop people from walking past as I bent down and picked everything up. The bell rang, and I swung the locker door shut. Late to class, I thought. Again.

As soon as I walked in the classroom, Mrs. Hudson, the Global teacher, gave me a sour look. I dumped my pile of notes on my desk and sat down. “Okay class,” Mrs. Hudson said, “Today we’re going to be learning about the Industrial Revolution. Get out you notebooks and write down what’s on the board.” She flipped up the map that was covering the whiteboard, and revealed notes that spanned across the entire surface. Everyone let out a simultaneous groan, but did as they were told.

I got my papers sorted together and got out my notebook, looking for a fresh piece of paper. I opened it up to a fresh page, and saw the note:

Robert,

Nicole was here! Sorry about last night,

And thank you for the ride!

You're so sweet!

10/8/12

. . .

It was raining hard. I remember that, because I put my backpack over my head so I wouldn't get wet. I got to my car and fumbled for my keys, and they fell to the ground. I bent over to pick them up, and suddenly someone ran out of the school and into the parking lot. I looked up, and there was Nicole, walking in the rain. She was crying...

. . .

“Robert!” Mrs. Hudson yelled. I must’ve jumped a foot in the air, because my papers fell off my desk and everyone started laughing. Mrs. Hudson gave me the same look that greeted me when I got in the door.

“Can you please answer the question, instead of staring off into space?” she growled.

“I’m sorry, mam,” I said sheepishly, “Could you repeat the question?” This automatically caused more laughter in the room.

“Young man, if you don’t start paying attention again, I’m going to write you up. Your grades are slipping, Robert. You can’t afford to be daydreaming.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, “I understand.”

Mrs. Hudson sighed and turned to someone else, asking them what the main import out of England was during the 1890’s. I paid attention for a little while, but I looked back down at the note.

. . .

“Hey!” I called out. Nicole froze and turned towards me. Her eyes were red from crying, and she quickly wiped away the tears.

“Oh, hi.” she said. She looked embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I tried to sound concerned. I hope I did, anyway.

“Uhhhh, not really.” She said, “I’m sorry, I thought I was alone.”

I looked down, trying to find the right words to say.

“Do you want a ride?” I asked, “I’m going your way.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

I laughed, trying to sound friendly. “It’s no trouble. It’s raining! Come on.”

She stood there for a minute, probably thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, but she eventually walked over and got in my car. I turned on the engine, pulled out of the parking lot, and we were on our way.

Nicole had her feet on the seat, her arms wrapped around her legs. She was looking down. I started a conversation, trying to break the tension.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah…. No, not really.” She said.

“Is it alright if I ask what happened?”

“It was just something stupid that got out of hand.” She said, “It’s kind of embarrassing that it got so bad.”

“Oh…” I said, focusing on the road. The yellow lines kept gliding by, like they were floating. The road twisted and turned, and our heads swung in every direction as the car made sharp turns.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, partially because I wanted to, partially because I wanted to be polite.

“No.” Nicole said, pausing. “Actually, yes. Yeah, I think there is.”

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Promise me you’ll never judge anyone. Never be an a*****e to people without having a reason, and still don’t be one if you do. Always make people happy when they see you, be kind to them. Never let someone push someone else around, and don’t let them spread disgusting rumors. Promise me you’ll at least try and make high school more bearable for everyone, okay?”

Nicole had stared me straight in the eye when she said that, but now she looked back down at her feet. I stared at her, stunned, because I’d never seen her snap before. And I’d never seen her cry before. Those beautiful hazel eyes were always shining and radiating happiness, and I could swear that whenever she was walking down the hallway, it would always be a little brighter and a little warmer than the others. Now the whole car felt dark and cold, and her eyes were starting to fill up with tears again.

She looked at me as if she’d just said the worst thing in the world. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to say it like that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, “I promise.”

“Okay.” She said. She didn’t talk for the rest of the ride.

I pulled into her driveway and put the car in park.

“Alright,” I said, “We’re he-“

I stopped when I looked over at Nicole and noticed she was crying. Her head was tucked in between her legs, and she let out quiet sobs. I just stared at her, feeling helpless and not knowing how I could comfort her.

Eventually, I killed the engine, and put my hand on her shoulder. She froze for a moment, then slowly buried her head into my shoulder. I hesitated for a moment, then I hugged her tight.

And she hugged back.

And we stayed there for a long time.

I didn’t know how long we were there. I just focused on the feeling of her on my chest, a wet spot on my shirt where she was crying, and eventually, her fingers lacing in between mine. I should’ve felt good about that. I should’ve held her hand back. But I didn’t. I felt uncomfortable for some reason, and I told her, “You should probably go inside. Get some sleep.”

She let go of my hand. “You’re probably right,” she said, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” I said, hugging her tightly, “It’s nothing, really.”

She gave me a little smile. “Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” I said.

“And thank you for helping.”

“Of course.”

Nicole looked at me, and I thought I saw her eyes glow a little bit. Almost like she was happy again. But she turned away, and the glow went with her as she got out of the car and closed the door. I watched her walk into the house, thinking about how her hand felt in mine. I could feel the spot on my shirt where she was crying, and I could smell her perfume all the way home.

. . .

The bell rang, and I was thrown back into the classroom. I looked at the board and saw a whole new spread of notes staring back at me. Wonderful, I thought, No wonder I’m borderline in Global. I stuffed my binder and notes in my backpack and headed for my locker, making sure I kept my head down all the way there.

Brett Matthews, something of a school punk, came up to me. “Hey, f*g,” he said, “Weren’t you dating that Nicole chick a month ago?” I froze, not knowing where he was going with this.

“Two months, actually.” I said, looking straight into my locker.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“It was two months ago.” I replied.

“Whatever.” he said. “Did you guys ever make out?”

“What? No, we didn’t make out.”

“Did she ever do you?”

“Excuse me?” By this point, I think I burned a hole in my locker, I was looking at it so long.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you were retarded. I’ll say it slower. Diiiiiiiid sheeeeee eeeeveeeer doooo yoooooooou?”

“No. She didn’t.” I said, gritting my teeth.

That’s when Brett got this look on his face, like he was about to enjoy this. More than he already was, anyway.

“No? She never did you like she did Scott Harris?”

Brett waited for me to say something, then started laughing. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could feel the smile on his face burning through the back of my skull. Before I had a chance to do anything, he punched me on the shoulder, said, “See you later, f****t.”, and walked away to meet up with his group who were just down the hall, hooting and cheering for the returning hero.

I waited until I couldn’t feel them anymore before I closed my locker. Only it wouldn’t shut. The damn door was sticking again. That’s when I lost it. I slammed the locker door over and over again until it was shut, and kept punching it until my knuckles started to turn red. Hot tears were coming down my face, and I couldn’t stop. Only when I saw Drew Harris standing in the hallway did I stop.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

I just picked up my bag and walked away. The bell had rung, and I was late for another class.

. . .

I sat in the music room and watched her play guitar. It didn’t matter if it the only song she could fully play was Wonderwall, I loved listening to her play. She was focused on the strings, staring intently at them, trying to get her fingers to the right spot. Then she stopped and looked up at me. Her hazel eyes were glowing with warmth, and she smiled at me. I remember thinking that if I had to pick my favorite thing about her, it would’ve been either her eyes or her smile. Those are what made her even more beautiful, even though she already was.

. . .

I sat at lunch alone, waiting for the bell to ring. The sandwich I made at home was frail and unappealing, and I set it aside.

I looked around the cafeteria. If you look closely, you can see a distinct order to where people sit. At the tables near the door, facing the back wall, are the seventh graders and the lunch monitors. On the sides towards the serving station are the “cool” eighth graders, and by the side wall are the “loser” eighth graders. The tables in the middle are scattered with freshmen, sophomores, and juniors, eating together because they get along better. At the far end of the cafeteria, the teachers sit on one table, and the seniors claim another. And then there was me, sitting alone in the middle of all of it.

Nicole was sitting at the Senior Table, facing me and staring into her lunch: a bowl of the lousy excuse for soup the school serves every day. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept for a week. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail and she looked kind of pale. Not sick, but there was definitely something wrong.

Suddenly she looked up, and we looked each other straight in the eye. For a moment, I swear I saw her eyes glow, like they used to. I saw the warmth that used to be in them, and for a moment, I felt warm. But it was only for a moment. Her eyes turned dark and cold, and she quickly put her head down. I kept staring, hoping that she would look back up again, but she never did.

I turned back towards my lunch and almost jumped out of my skin. Drew Harris was sitting at my table. She started to speak, but stopped, as if she were trying to think of the right words to say. After a moment, she finally spoke.

“I heard what Brett said in the hallway.”

I just looked at her. I didn’t know where she was going with this. She looked down and thought some more.

“Is it true?”

“What?” I asked.

“What Brett said? Was it true?”

I looked her right in the eye for a moment, then said, “It doesn’t matter.” I went back to picking at my lunch, signaling that the conversation was over. But she didn’t leave.

“What?” I asked.

Drew flinched a little when I said that, as if she was expecting me to hit her. Then she dropped a real bomb on me when she said, “I think you should go to therapy.”

For a minute, I thought I didn’t hear her correctly, but it started sinking in.

“Wh…what?” I stammered.

Drew’s eyes widened and she started shaking her head.

“Wow, that came out wrong.” she said. “I’m sorry, that was stupid.” She got up to leave.

“Wait, hold on,” I said, “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, but sat back down, her face red with embarrassment.

“What I meant was you haven’t been acting like yourself lately. You seem really sad and you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot, which isn’t really you, you know? I think it might help if you go talk to someone. It might make you feel better.

I looked at her and tried to see if she was trying to pull a joke on me, but she looked sincere, and even a little bit concerned.

“There’s a therapist in the Guidance Office, Rebecca Sloane. She’s young, but she’s really helpful, and she’s a really good listener. I think she could help you.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked.

“I go see her all the time.” she said. “Trust me, she can help you.”

I paused for a minute, thinking of all the ways this could come back to bite me in the a*s. Finally I said, “When is she available?”

. . .

I sat in the Guidance Office, waiting for my appointment. The woman at the front desk said that Dr. Sloane was busy with another patient, and that she’d be ready shortly. She handed me a sheet to fill out beforehand, and I sat down and waited. The first question on the sheet was vague. It read:

Why are you here?

I thought about the question for a long time, and finally put down:

A friend made me come.

I looked at it for a minute, then crossed it out and wrote:

I have something I need help getting over.

As soon as I wrote it down, the door to Dr. Sloane’s office opened, and Nicole walked out. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying. She froze when she saw me. I didn’t know what to do, so I just gave a short wave. Nicole rushed toward the door, and I thought I saw another tear forming in her eyes when she walked past me. When the door closed and I knew she was gone, I buried my head in my hands and slapped myself for waving to her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman at the desk mouth the word, Wow, and go back to work. When I looked back up, Dr. Sloane was leaning on the wall, her legs crossed.

“Robert Donovan, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I said, sheepishly.

“Well then,” she said, giving a polite smile, “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”

. . .

“You’ll have to forgive the atmosphere,” Dr. Sloane said, “My specialty is elementary kids, but I don’t have a problem if you want to play with the putty or Legos or anything.” She gave me knowing wink as I looked around her office. It was small and colorful, with a shelf full of board-games with names like The Feelings Game or T.E.A.M Work: Everybody Wins! Stuffed animals lined the top of the shelf, and pictures of houses and animals drawn by children were scattered across the wall.

Dr. Sloane herself looked like she just got out of college. She had short, blonde hair, olive skin, and dark, brown eyes. She was professionally dressed, wearing a white blouse and a black skirt, but I could see she was more comfortable in civilian clothes.

“So,” she said, “You wrote on the form that you’re here because there’s something you need to get over. Do you want to go into more detail about that?”

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed.

“Dr. Sloane, I-“

“Please, call me Rebecca.” She said, “I don’t want to feel like an old lady whenever I go to work.” She smiled.

“Okay, Rebecca,” I said, “Can I ask you when you got this job?”

Rebecca looked at me and smiled coolly. “I see. You think I’m too young to be a high school therapist, don’t you?”

I could feel myself blush, and I looked down at my shoes.

“I understand,” she said, “Don’t worry, if I didn’t think I couldn’t do my job, I wouldn’t be here. And besides, I know what normal therapists are like. Would you rather talk to and old woman who only takes notes and asks meaningless questions, or would you rather talk to someone who knows how you’re feeling?”

Touché. I liked her immediately.

She wrote my name across a piece of paper and underlined it. “Okay, Robert,” she said, “Tell me what happened.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking of where to start. “I moved here last year. Which is kind of funny when you think about it because I moved here because I was being bullied so much. And one of the first people I met was Nicole Anderson, the girl who was just in here. We got to be really good friends last year, and we hung out a lot over the summer.”

Rebecca nodded and took down more notes.

“I don’t really know what happened over the summer, but we came back to school, and I started to like her.”

“What do you think made you like her so much?” Rebecca asked.

“I think it’s because she was funny, and smart, and the only person who was genuinely nice to me last year. She said she moved here a couple years before I did, so she knows what it’s like. She was also really beautiful. I mean, she still is.”

Rebecca looked at me for a moment, as if she was trying to look inside of me. Then she turned away and wrote down more notes.

“So back to the beginning of the year.” She said.

“Oh. Well, I started to like her a lot, and that made me really nervous. I started to worry about really small things, like is she going to say, “Hi.” to me in the hallway, or am I going to have something on my shirt when I talk to her, stuff like that. And I was really nervous about asking her out, because I didn’t know what she was going to say.”

“What made you change your mind?” Rebecca asked.

“I was just thinking about her one day, and I said, ‘Robert, if you don’t ask her out, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.’ So the next day, I went up to her and asked if she’d like to go out sometime. And do you know what she did?”

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders, and I started to laugh.

“Exactly. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Sure.” Which I thought was weird. I guess I was expecting more.”

. . .

The greeter led us to a booth near the window. Nicole sat down first, and I sat across from her. The greeter put down menus and left, promising that someone would be around to get us drinks shortly.

Nicole stared at her menu. She curled her hair, which bobbed up and down whenever she walked, and it bobbed as she looked at the menu.

“I’m could eat a horse right now.” She said, smiling at me.

“I know how you feel,” I said, “Lunch was terrible today.”

“Oh my god, I know! How do you mess up grilled cheese like that?”

“I’m surprised kids were still eating it!’ I said, “I’m surprised you actually finished yours, too. So many kids kept coming up to you.”

Nicole laughed. “I know, I was lucky to get out of that cafeteria alive.”

I laughed, and looked at my menu. The waitress came by and wrote her name down on a napkin. She gave us the list of drinks, and we both ordered Cokes. After she left, Nicole took the napkin.

“Before we leave, you should write down a fake number and I’ll put a lip print on it, and I’ll take your picture with it.”

We both started to laugh. Nicole was laughing harder than I was, and her face got really red. After we calmed down, I decided to ask her something.

“What’s it like?” I asked.

“What’s what like?” She responded.

“Being popular,” I replied, “What’s that like?”

She put down her menu and looked at me. “It’s not all you think it is.” She said.

“What do you mean? I wish kids came up to me and started talking like they do to you.”

“No you don’t.” Nicole said, her eyes getting wider, “You really don’t. I’m constantly getting bombarded by people all the time, and they won’t leave me alone! Trust me, you wouldn’t want that.”

The waiter came by and gave us our drinks. I sipped my Coke and said, “At least they talk to you. They don’t even pay attention to me until Brett Matthews trips me in the hallway.”

Nicole gave me a sad look. “That’s not true. I pay attention to you all the time. And it’s their loss if they don’t. You’re a really funny kid.”

“Oh thanks.” I said, and Nicole hit my shoulder with her menu.

“I’m serious!” She said. “I don’t know why you don’t write down some of the stuff you say!”

I looked down. I could feel myself blush.

“You’re also a sweetheart, Robert.” Nicole said, “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

She smiled at me, and her eyes glowed. I smiled back. I was about to say, “You deserve being sweet to.” When the waiter came back and asked us what we’d like to order. Nicole turned to me and asked, “What are you having?”

. . .

I told Rebecca about our first date and how well it went. “When I dropped her off, I asked her if she wanted to do this again. And she said yes. We went out again a couple weeks later. We went to go see a movie, and the theater was freezing. So Nicole got out her coat and wrapped it around us, and we just sat there, the two of us, in a big warm coat.”

I realized I was smiling, and I could still feel the coat over us. Rebecca wrote down more notes.

“I’d made friends with some of Nicole’s friends at the beginning of the school year, and I kept asking them all these questions about her. And I kept going to them for advice about what to do, because I told them I liked her as soon as I found out. And one of her friends, Lily, told me that she liked me too. This was a day or two before the second date, and I was worrying like crazy about it. But after the movie, before her dad came to pick her up, I got my courage up, and told her that I really liked her.

“She looked surprised when I told her, but then she smiled and said that she liked me too. I asked her if she wanted to start “going out”, and she said yes. And I was so happy that I kissed her on the cheek, and she started laughing. And then her dad came and she left.”

Rebecca looked at me intently, like she was imagining being there. “How did it work out?” she asked.

“It worked out fine,” I said, “For about a month. That’s when things got bad.”

“What do you mean, ‘bad’?”

“I mean, it didn’t end badly,” I said, “Like, we don’t hate each other now. It’s just… Nicole started acting weird.”

“How?” Rebecca asked.

“She would say hi, and then rush off towards her next class. She used to talk to me whenever she saw me, so I thought that was weird. She would sit somewhere else at lunch, too. It was kind of like she was backing away from me for two weeks, before the break-up.”

“How did the beak-up happen?”

“We were at a basketball game at the school. I saw her there and tried to be with her, but she would sit a couple people away from me on the bleachers. She seemed really sad the entire night too. She actually looked like that the whole week before. I asked her if she was okay, and she would say, ‘I’m fine. I’m just tired.’

“After the game, we walked out to her car, and I asked her again. But this time she didn’t answer. She just hugged me and got in her car and drove away.”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes while I told Rebecca this, and she handed me a box of tissues. I wiped my eyes and kept going.

“She broke up with me the next day. Over Facebook, which I thought was nice, even though I shouldn’t have. I kept telling myself it’s because she didn’t want to see me hurt. To be honest, I’m glad she did too, because if she told me in person, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Rebecca looked at me with a lot of sadness, like the same thing happened to her. “What did she say?” she asked.

“She said that she thought we were better friends. Which I understood. It just sucks, though, because I felt something more. There was a time when I thought I loved her. I know that sounds bad, because we only went out for a month, but I really did.”

“That’s not bad at all,” Rebecca said. “If you had a connection with someone like that for as long as you did, love would be the most normal feeling I could think of.”

I thought about it, and it made sense. I took another tissue and wiped my eyes.

“What are you two now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I haven’t made eye-contact, let alone talked to her for two months. It’s kind of funny. After she told me that we should just be friends, I went to bed and stayed up until three, just sitting there, hoping that she would somehow appear in my room and tell me that it was a mistake, and she was sorry. I haven’t gotten a full night of sleep for two months.”

Rebecca put down her notepad and turned her chair towards me. “How come you haven’t talked to her?” she asked.

“It would be too painful.” I replied. I took another tissue.

Rebecca nodded. She seemed to be thinking of something, but I didn’t know what.

“Are you angry about what happened?” she asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then said, “No, I’m not. That’s weird, isn’t it? I probably should be, but I’m not.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I think that wouldn’t be fair to Nicole if I was. If she thought we were better off as friends, then we probably are. She’s a really good judge of character.”

“Then why are you still so upset?” Rebecca asked.

That was a stupid question, I thought. I looked down at my feet.

“Because I really liked her.” I said.

Rebecca gave me a sorry look and turned towards her desk. She wrote down a couple notes, and suddenly stopped, like she was weighing something in her mind. Finally she turned towards me.

“Why can’t more guys be more like you, Robert?”

That threw me off guard. “What?” I stammered.

“You care so much about someone, that you’re willing to be miserable just so they can be happy. That’s not healthy, but it’s really noble of you.”

Rebecca smiled at me, and it felt as warm as Nicole’s. I smiled back, and Rebecca leaned forward in her chair.

“I’m not sure if I should tell you this, but I think you should know something.” She said.

I sat upright in my seat and prepared to take in every word.

“This is something Nicole told me in confidence, so you can’t tell anyone else, okay?” Rebecca said, with a serious look on her face.

I nodded and took a deep breath.

“Nicole thinks the world of you, you know that?” She said. “She started coming in about a month ago, and told me almost the exact same thing you did. She’s scared to death that you hate her now, and she still really wants to be friends.”

My stomach twisted in knots, and I held my breath.

“I think you should talk to her.” Rebecca said.

I exhaled and said, “I don’t know. It’ll be really awkward.”

Rebecca smiled and said, “Success in life is directly proportional to the number of awkward conversations you're willing to have.”

“Who said that?’ I asked.

“I did.” She replied.

I smiled, and thought about it. Maybe she’s right, I thought, Maybe I should at least try and be friends with her again. I looked down at my hands, and they were sweating.

“I’m really nervous.” I said.

Rebecca grabbed my hand. “That’s normal,” she said, “If you think of someone as highly as you do with Nicole and you’re not nervous, then I don’t think you think of that person highly enough.”

The lunch bell rang, and I got up. Rebecca gave me a knowing look.

“You got a plan?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I replied, “But I’m working on it.

Rebecca smiled at me, and I opened the door. She stopped me before I left and said, “I’m going to schedule another meeting with you, okay? Even if you don’t have a problem, I still think it would be good to talk.”

I nodded, and Rebecca shook my hand.

“Mr. Donovan, it’s been a pleasure.”

I laughed and walked out the door.

. . .

It was snowing lightly on Main Street, and the streetlights made the entire street feel warm and welcoming. Nicole and I walked along the sidewalk for a while, our hands entwined, and found a bench to sit on. We were drinking hot chocolate.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“It was good,” she replied, “After school, I went out on a date with this really cute guy.”

I pretended to look shocked. “Is this someone I should know about?”

Nicole laughed and gave me a shove. We sat in silence for a moment, and drank our hot chocolate. Nicole leaned on me, and I felt her warmth through her coat.

“I was kind of nervous today.” I said.

“About what?” she asked.

“About this.” I replied. “Janet told me that you picked out an outfit for tonight, and I checked my pocket for my wallet at least twenty times before I left. I guess I was just worrying over nothing.”

Nicole sat up, and squeezed my hand. “You do that a lot.”

“Do what?” I asked.

Nicole replied, “Worry.”

I looked down at my feet and sipped my hot chocolate. “I know,” I said, “I’m trying really hard to get over that. It’s just that I really don’t want to mess this up, because I really like you.”

Nicole squeezed my hand and put her head on my shoulder. “You never have to worry about me, I promise. I’ll tell you when something’s wrong.”

I looked at her, and her hazel eyes were glowing.

“But I want you to do the same for me. Whenever there’s a problem, come talk to me, okay?”

“Okay.” I said. As we sat, drinking our hot chocolate, the snow kept falling down, but I felt a little warmer feeling Nicole next to me.

. . .

I rushed toward the senior lockers, and saw Nicole standing at hers. I took a deep breath and said over and over in my mind, Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

I was started walking, and saw Brett Matthews walking across the other way. He caught me in his sights, and he started walking quicker towards me. He had that same look on my face when he confronted me at my locker, and his friends weren’t too far behind.

“Hey, f****t!” he yelled across the hallway. His posse started to giggle, but I stayed calm.

Brett came up to me and said, “How’s your girlfr-“

That’s all I let come out of his mouth before I decked him right in the teeth. He staggered back and fell to the ground, hitting his head on a locker and knocking himself unconscious.

The hallway fell silent. Brett’s gang looked at me like I was insane. Then they bolted, much to my amusement. Everyone in the hallway burst into laughter. I calmly stepped over Brett Matthews, blood coming down the corners of his mouth, and made my way to Nicole’s locker.

She was still there, staring at me like I was an action hero. I leaned on the locker next to her, and my mind went blank. I tried to think of something to say, when she spoke first.

“So does this mean you’re a punk now, or something?”

I looked at her, and her hazel eyes started to glow again, only this time, it was stronger than before. I felt the warmth come off of them, and it made me feel good.

“I want to talk to you.” I said.

“About what?” she asked.

I thought for a moment, then said, “Anything.”

She laughed, and I laughed too. I could hear the voices of angry teachers calling my name from down the hallway, and I knew I was in trouble.

“Maybe when I get out of in-school suspension?” I asked.

Nicole smiled at me and said, “Definitely.”

She gave me a long hug, and walked towards her other class. I watched her go down the hallway, only this time, it didn’t feel like saying goodbye. I thought of how we made eye contact in the cafeteria, and how she turned away. I thought of Rebecca saying that she was scared to death that I hated her now, and how that was never going to happen. As two teachers grabbed my arm and lead me toward the principal’s office, I caught a look down at Brett, who stared at me like I was insane, and gave him a wink. He wasn’t going to bother me anymore. Nobody was. I knew that as I felt the warmth from Nicole’s eyes follow me down the hallway.

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Featured Review

InsanityWriter

Love love love love love it. ;) You have some well-developed characters (although I feel Brett and Nicole could be deepened a little more) and you've written it wonderfully. It has great flow and descriptions, but I think you can expand the imagery even more. (: GREAT story, it's been a pleasure to read it ;D
10000000000000000000000000/100!