Walking in Memphis in the Pouring Rain

The school day continued on a normal schedule. I pouted when Choir was over, obsessed over The Dante Club in Reading, and drew my way through History. We were only watching an extremely boring movie, so I got out my black skinny Crayola marker and wrote song lyrics on my arms and hands like I do every time I get bored in a class. I wrote HAVE HOPE across my knuckles. SKYWAY AVENUE across my left hand, and PAINT IT BLACK AND TAKE IT BACK on my right hand. I’m a lefty, so the right hand looked a bit better than the left hand. Then I drew a rose in the crook of my arm over the veins. It looked pretty sweet. Then the lights flicked on and my teacher yelled at two of the students for making out in the back corner while the movie was going. They blushed and turned away from each other. It was pretty funny, but I didn’t laugh. I was too jealous that they could do that.

Lunch next, finally. I ran to my locker, threw my books and binder in there (to tumble out on top of me once I opened it again, I was sure), and scanned the mobbing crowd, searching for my Jamie.

I spotted him moving slowly along, his black, floppy hair a dead giveaway. It was always in his face, hiding his mysterious eyes that always entranced me. I raced over to him, just like I do every day, and tackled him.

“Uff! Zacky, why is it that every day you have to knock me to the ground? It might be nice to be only slightly shaken instead…” he complained. Just like every day.

“Because that’s not as much fun. I have to do SOMETHING. I get bored, and you know it.” I retorted, just like every day.

“You know, it might be nice to kiss me instead of tackle me. That wouldn’t hurt so bad,” he said. Just like every day.

Wait, what? No, that doesn’t happen every day!

“Uh, what did you say?” I asked, heavily uncertain that he was talking to ME.

“I said, you could kiss me instead of tackling me. It wouldn’t hurt as bad.” He said this all matter-of-factly, as though this was completely normal for best friends to talk this way.

I decided not to complain, after all, he is the guy I’m in love with, so why should I say anything otherwise?

“Okay, a kiss instead of a tackle. That’s not as much fun, though…” I pouted a little just to make me seem not-so-eager…even though I completely was.

He laughed. “Alright, Mr. Hyper, let’s go get something to eat before all the pizza’s gone. They said they’ve got….” he shuddered, “Lasagna as the main entrée.”

“Oh, no! Hurry!! They never have a vegetarian lasagna!!” I raced for the cafeteria, my best friend laughing behind me.

Did he really want me to kiss him before lunch each day, or was he kidding? I didn’t know, and I thought I never would.