Boy Wonder in Love: Second Season

Mr. Giraldi had left the practice rooms locked in anticipation of the assembly, leaving Cora and I to mingle with the other guitar kids. A recognized a few of them from Music Comp. This may seem stupid and immature of me (sigh, what isn't really? Like, what about me what isn't freaking stupid and immature??), but I have this feeling over superiority of them:

1.) I'm a senior and most of them underclassmen. That's a plus that comes with being a senior: you got this feeling of being cooler than the young 'n's just because you're older. It's fucked, but it feels oh-so-good.

2.) I may be pathetic in a lot of ways, but I'm at least serious about music. I knew the music software and I can already play guitar pretty well. So, my skill makes me feel cooler. Bonus.

3.) I'm dating by far the hottest chick in the class (and, in my opinion, the entire school). So, you know, who's the man? I am the man... of guitar class anyway.

"I really want to punch that kid right now," I muttered to Cora. We were sitting in separate chairs but she had her longs legs strewn casually over her my lap. I was rubbing her shin and giving suspicious glances to this tenth grader with long, stringy brown hair. I was so sure (because I'm territorial and stupid) that he was checking out Cora.

"Hm?" Cora hummed kindly. She was going through my iPod.

"He's checkin' you out. Like I can see him undressing you with his eyes," I whispered, shooting slight frowns at the fifteen year old offender.

"You're probably right," Cora teased, her smile clear in her voice as she wiggled her legs on my lap.

"... K, no, for sure the fucker is looking at you," I said, positive now because the kid had looked over. Probably because I was glaring at him.

"Calm down, BW," Cora chuckled and handed me an ear bud. I put in my ear, curious about what she was listening to. Nice- Morning Jacket. I like them.

Obviously. Because they're on my iPod. God, Robin. Anyway.

Mr. Giraldi waved us out the door with a short whistle.

"Don't wander off. Straight to the gym," He reminded us.

"Aren't you coming?" One girl asked.

"No way," He mumbled. That made me giggle and my giggling made Cora giggle. She and I walked with the rest of the small pack of students toward the gym, Cora's arm slung through mine. We joined the crowd of unhappy, bored students as we all tried to squeeze into the gym.

We eventually slid through and ditched the rest of our class. Cora kind of led me as she looked through the bleachers for Minnie and Harold. I had my hands in my pockets and was thinking about the gym.

Gyms are an interesting combo of gross and paradise:

1.) They smell like dust and socks. Not altogether unpleasant, but I wouldn't bottle the scent and try to sell it. That'd be a fail.

2.) You're encouraged to run around and be as loud as you want. That's nice.

3.) The gym means no homework, which is good; but in exchange for no homework, you get sweat and B.O., which is bad. Showing off sports and muscles to girls is good; but when you suck at sports and have little muscle, it's bad. The golf unit is awesome; dodge-ball days not so much.

"There they are," Cora said, cheering up when she saw Minnie waving her over. Cora and I climbed up the bleachers and sat down in the empty space next to Minnie. Harold and I were the book ends.

"Where's your class?" Minnie asked us.

"Iunno," I said in a bewildered slur. The girls giggled and Cora elbowed me gently. I smiled. Cora and Minnie listened to Cora's iPod and whispered secretively to one another. Harold and I exchanged looks and then listened to our own music. Sigh, Harold and I love our girls, even when they act too much like girls, if you know what I mean.

At least they were holding our respective hands.

When the principal hollered for the student body attention via a megaphone, we turned off our music and paid attention (ok, ok, we looked at him with half-dead eyes: no one was actually paying attention).

Mr. Montgomery babbled pompously about student-teacher conferences and then talked exclusively to the seniors about colleges that were coming to the school to promote their institutions. It was boring and I spent most of that first fifteen minutes doodling messages on Cora's leg with my finger. Things like "I love u" and "U r hot" and "Mr. Montgomery has big nostrils" (she didn't figure out the last one and I had to whisper it in her ear. It made her clap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. I love her so freakin' much.)

During Mr. Montgomery speech, our evil vice-principal from the seventh circle of hell, Ms. Hicks, was watching us with a shrewd, hawk-like stare, daring someone to disrupt the assembly. But no one wanted to piss around while the principal was talking – that was just offering yourself up for detention.

When Mr. Montgomery finished up his lecture, the student council president, a second-tier popular preppy-pants senior named Julianne Eckland took over and began talking about the upcoming Valentine's Day dance. While a few of the drunk-driver kids whistled at Julianne obnoxiously, her talking about the Valentine's dance had me completely transfixed.

Not cuz I care about dances. Ha, I hate dances on principle. No, I was thinking about Valentine's Day. Although it was still over a month away, I was hit all of a sudden with the reality that- as embarrassing as this might be to admit- I had never had a girlfriend on Valentine's Day. I mean, I met my ex-girlfriend April in the springtime and we broke up before the summer. It was a short lived, lovely romance.

But the point is, I have no idea what to do about Cora and Valentine's Day. I mean, I wanted to do something special and romantic... but I didn't know what I should do! Or like, where to begin to figure out what to do for her. I realize I'd have to get her something; but I have no idea what Cora would like for Valentine's Day, either. Like, ok, I know Cora pretty well (I pay a creepy amount of attention to her) and I could make her a mix CD of songs she'd love or buy her favorite ice cream or take her into the city to listen to live music...

But none of those things sound very... Valentine's Day-y. Like, aren't roses and jewelry and chocolates the stuff you buy? And you take your girl to fancy dinners you can't afford and do really, like, over-the-top romantic crap. Like, get a star named after her or write her poems-

Oh. Hey. I could write her a song. That's a pretty good idea...

But what if there was some expectation about Valentine's Day I didn't know about? Like, are there unwritten rules? Is there a minimum and maximum of stuff I have to do? Like, I don't want to underwhelm Cora and let her down... but I didn't want to, like, do too much and look really desperate and pathetic either! What if I got the wrong things or did the wrong things and I looked like a shitty boyfriend?

And am I allowed to talk about Cora all this? Or is there some sort of fucked up rule where I'm just supposed to know what to do for Valentine's Day. Like when a girl is crying, right, the unwritten and unspoken rule is that you be really nice and hug her and lie to her- tell her everything she wants to hear, no matter how untrue it is. You never tell them the truth or tell them it's 'not a big deal'- no matter what they are crying about. An unwise man might be brutally honest, thinking they're helping, and then get his proverbial balls cut off.

Once upon a time I would have kept my mouth shut, sweat like a pig, and just blindly took a stab at Valentine's Day without seeking help. But I'm not that unwise idiot who tells his girlfriend she looks fatter in jeans because she's put on a little weight. I decided I would talk to Cora about it.

For all I know, Cora, like the wonderful, low maintenance babe she is, wouldn't give a crap about Valentine's Day.

As silly Julianne Eckland was finishing up, Cora gently poked my leg.

"Are you ok?" She whispered in my ear. Fuck she has a sexy voice- Focus, Robin.

"Yep," I lied.

"Your palms are sweating," Cora giggled huskily in my ear. I turned red, took my hand away from hers, wiped my palm against my jeans forcefully, then seized her hand again, twining my fingers through hers. Cora giggled again.

Then the lights went out in the gym. A few funny kids screamed and the rest of us just looked around, wondering what was going on-

Sugary pop music with a heavy beat picked up and a few spotlights shone on the gym floor. Like slutty spiders spilling out of the dark, the cheerleaders came flipping and shimmying onto the gym floor in their red and white uniforms. They were greeted with loud claps and howls of encouragement. Mostly from their boyfriends.

The funny thing about the cheerleaders is that being a cheerleader isn't synonymous with being popular at our school. It's true that most of the squad is made of popular girls, but not all the popular girls were cheerleaders. Like, lemme see here. There's some eleventh and tenth grade popular LGs (that stands for Little Girls, not the flip phone. I learned that last semester). But, ok, we've got Erica (who is the queen bee of all bitches) and who is also the head cheerleader, and we've got Katie-Anne and Jenni (Erica minions), and we have Amanda (who I kind of sort of know... sort of).

But we are missing a couple of the popular senior girls. The slightly harder edged ones that think cheerleading is too perky for them. Those gals would be Leslie and Alexa. It's such a goofy, popular-kid misconception on their part: it's like, ok, the popular girls are all kitties and the ones that choose not to cheerlead are just the bad kitty cats that just scratch people more.

Except for Erica. She always goes straight for the jugular. Anyway. Those girls are a far, far cry from edgy. And I can say that because I'm a loser and by being a loser, that automatically makes me edgier.

Plus, I'm dating Cora. And she punched a jock. So. She's pretty fucking edgy in my books.

Anyways, once the girls had finished up an actually pretty slutty cheer routine (and a few kids from the LOVE club, our school's well-intentioned but none-the-less really lame abstinence group, hissed at them and prompted barks of discipline from Ms. Hicks), Erica took over the megaphone and informed everyone that since some of the cheerleaders had graduated last term (the over-achievers who were friends with Julianne Eckland), they would be holding try-outs for three new cheerleaders.

And on that school-spirit note, the coach of the senior football team (and the head of the PE department, Mr. Kemp) announced that try-outs for pre-season football would be held soon.
When the assembly finally ended, the students descended the bleachers and filed out of the gym impatiently, talking loudly amongst themselves.

I wanted to talk about Valentine's Day, but Harold and Minnie were, of course, talking about colleges and careers.

"-to England and study ancient monasteries. Like the life of Saint Bernard. Or excavate the Niah cave in Borneo! Did you know-" Minnie was saying.

"The first modern human skeleton was found there? Yeah, that would be really cool! Or study philosophy and teach part time somewhere in the South. And then work on theses in my downtime," Harold said, prompting Minnie to giggle solemnly before plowing ahead with her career goals. I looked at Cora.

"What do you want to do after high school?" I asked her curiously. Cora shrugged.

"Music," She said and looked at me. "You?"

"Music," I agreed and she smiled. I put an arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of her head as we walked back to guitar class.

"... hey Cor?" I asked, feeling kind of nervous.

"Yeah?" She asked and looked at me, picking up on my anxiety. I looked at her, trying to formulate how to ask her about Valentine's Day without sounding like an inexperienced goof. My goofiness seems to endear Cora... but my inexperience with stuff has been a problem with us in the past.

"Do you like football players?" I chickened out. Cora giggled and shook her head. Then her face grew thoughtful as she thought it over.

"Well I mean... I don't really care," Cora said.

"Ok cool," I breathed, but I felt like an idiot. Why do I still care about looking cool and suave in front of Cora? She obviously doesn't care about guys who are cool and suave... because otherwise she would not be with me (the antithesis of cool and suave).

I just can't help but want to impress her. She's my hott girlfriend who lets me touch her in awesome girly places. Ergo, I end up acting like an idiot around her because I try so hard to not look like an idiot.

"Do you care about cheerleaders?" Cora asked me back. I shrugged but grinned crookedly at her.

"My brain says no... but other parts of me wouldn't complain if you wore one of their uniforms-" I said. Cora smacked my chest, but laughed at me.

"I love you," She chuckled at me.

"I love you too," I muttered, trying not to grin. I glanced at her but she was looking through her purse.

I was going to give her the best Valentine's Day of her life!

... as soon as I figure out what a standard Valentine's Day is in the first place! Yaaah. Go me...