A Boy Can Dream pt. 1

A Story by Little Crow

Short little story, just one of those "What if?" scenarios

Day four of "Awkwardly shuffle past cute girl on the floor next to her locker" and I've yet to work up the courage to do anything other than awkwardly pause. I've managed to gather that she's a fan of Bukowski, and Plath. If I stood still any longer I'd look even creepier, so I end up just sort of meandering by. I hope she doesn't already think I'm a complete freak.
"Can I help you?"
Too late, I didn't realize I was staring. As embarassing as the situation is, I can't help but notice her voice is like the feeling of waking up from a great dream, where you don’t yet know if it was real or not.
"Uhm..." I stammer. "I noticed you're reading Bukowski, that's not the average girl's read"
She smiles, an easy smile, and says "Interesting. A boy who 'reads' something other than porn magazines"
I can't help but laugh, as I plop down next to her on the patterned tiles, at that awkward distance that's not too close to be weird, but not too far to be even weirder. I'll admit, I was more towards the closer one, she's more than a little attractive, especially that easy smile of hers.
"So what other books are you into?"
She raises an eyebrow as she says "You've been walking past me for the last week, maybe you should've been taking notes on my tastes."
Oh man, I'm not as smooth as I thought.
But she lets that smile show again and she says "No worries, I'd walk past you, but I'm too high and I forget where my locker is."
I tilt my head back and laugh again, she's got a great sense of humor.
"I think we're going to get along great, Katrina."
She c***s an eyebrow at me, and inquires "Wait, how did you know my name?"
I smile back at her and reply "Well, I didn't for sure, but you confirmed it right there. I figured it was a safe bet, considering that's the name that screechy kid yelled when you pantsed him in the hall yesterday"
She laughs, really genuinely laughs at the memory of that. I can't help but have my spirits be lifted by that, it's not every day I make a pretty girl laugh, after all.
"Oh yes, that screechy boy you refer to is my 'friend' Devin" she says, with airquotes to go with 'friend'.
I start to make a comment about the incident, but I'm interrupted by the sound of something being smashed rather violently into one of the many yellow lockers like the ones the two of us are leaning against. We both look down the hall to see a skinny and evidently angry kid in ripped jeans and a t-shirt beating his head against a locker repeatedly.
She rolls her eyes and sticks a finger out to the head smasher and says "And THAT is my best friend's soon to be murderer."
I continue to watch what appears to be his attempt at caving in his own skull and yell to him "Do you need a helmet? Or maybe just a ride home on the little bus?"
She tilts her head back and laughs again, and as I turn back and smile I notice I've inched a little closer and I get a better look at her face. The first thing I see is that her hair is even more gorgeous up close, the thick fall of gorgeous brown locks, it matches her somewhat almond shaped, brown eyes perfectly. Her eyebrows are thin and arched, almost as if saying "Yeah, so what?" Her lips are pulled back into that smile of hers, that one of a kind smile that makes me mirror it before I even realize it.
"I didn't realize that's how you open lockers in Canada, I always just tried the 'opening the lock' method"
Katrina furrowed her brow and says "You're not Canadian?"
I break eye contact as I look at the floor and respond "Nah, I moved here just before school started"
As she starts to ask me a question, she's interrupted by the peal of the bell signaling that we're both late for class.
She leans over and puts her hand on my shoulder to steady herself as she stands up to go on her way, she looks back and flashes me that smile again as she waves goodbye. I stay sitting a moment longer, watching her walk down the empty hallway, and I realize two things, the jeans she's wearing really show off her mile long legs (Hey, don't judge me) and I never even told her my name. I fish out a piece of wrinkled paper from my pocket and I scribble a short note, then stuff it into her locker as I get up and head towards the restrooms for a smoke. I wasn't in a hurry for math anyway.