Chex Mix

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince named Seth Hartley.

That prince, as you might have guessed, is me.

This prince was a very cool guy, with many friends, and twice as many girlfriends.

Okay, that’s a lie. I have a few acquaintances, and girls don’t even look in my general direction, let alone speak to me.

Yet, this is the story of how I got my first kiss.

I guess I should start at the beginning. And by beginning, I mean way beginning:

It all started one Tuesday morning. The winter sun was low in the sky and made the snow sparkle like Edward Cullen. I was walking along in the hallways of Jefferson High in my clunky winter-time boots because Seventeen Magazine had suggested this year that clunky was “in”. And I was just minding my own business, my hands in the pockets of my un-fashionable blue jeans, backpack slung over one shoulder casually, when suddenly, I feel someone slam against me. And the next thing I knew, everything was dark, and smelled like old erasers and construction paper.

That’s right, dear followers. Our beloved Prince Seth was pushed into a locker.

So I sighed, shifted myself so my fists weren’t digging into my balls, and began pounding on the locker door.

“Hello?” I called, peering through the slits in the locker.

I’ve never understood why there were slits in there until that moment: it was so kids who got shoved into lockers had a way of seeing into the outside world.

“Helloooooo!” I yelled, but did anyone come?

No.

The handsome prince was stuck in that locker.

And he was stuck in the locker for over an hour, meaning I skipped all of homeroom and Creative Writing class. I’d never skipped a class before, but I guess that day was the day I was going to start.

Finally, a young maiden (and by ‘young maiden’ I mean the old bag of a vice principal, Mrs. Lind) came to the prince’s rescue. Crowbar in hand, she freed the prince from the evil, claustrophobic clutches of the deep, dark locker.

I must have looked pretty out of it (which isn’t saying too much. I’m always out of it), because Mrs. Lind gave me one hard look, and took my arm and led me straight to the nurse’s office, where she plopped me down on one of those little cot things that are in those kinds of places.

The young, handsome (yes, I have to say handsome every time) prince scanned the room with his beautiful blue eyes and saw that there were five other people in the room with him, minus the nurse who was taking his temperature.

The first person I saw was an Asian guy holding his ankle and sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. His face was screwed up in either pain or frustration as he stared at that ankle of his like the fate of the world depended on it. I couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, staring at his ankle like that. Maybe he thought, “If I stare at this long enough, the pain will go away.”

Then there was a girl, and she was laying down with her eyes closed. She was blonde and she looked unconscious. Her hair was all splayed across the pillow part of the cot like that one picture of Taylor Swift on the cover of her album. It reminded me of dragons breathing fire. Except it was, like, the girl’s hair.

On the floor by the nurse’s desk sat a blond boy who looked like he was in some serious shit. I mean really, he looked so troubled, it’s as though he was the President times ten. His jaw was rigid and the muscles in his neck were stiff. I think he was pissed off at something, but I can’t tell what.

On the wall opposite of myself was a door, and sitting just past said door was a girl with long, brown hair, retching into the toilet. Poor girl. One of the nurse’s assistants walked in hurriedly to hand the girl a hair thingy for her hair so it didn’t get all barfy.

And that brings me to where I am now: sitting next to one of the prettiest girls I’ve seen in… Well, ever.

She’s got long, dark, wavy hair that fell down her back all waterfall-like and reminded me of a mermaid. Like, Ariel status. And she’s tapping her feet nervously to the beautiful beat inside her head as she avoids eye contact with everyone in the room, so I can’t get a real good glimpse at her eyes, but I believe they’re brown. Brown like chocolate. Like…. Like a chocolate river. And they’re all dark and stuff, so they hide things better. It’s like, her eyes are a safe, and something about her makes me want to crack the code to it. You know?

When she does a little double-take and looks at me like I’m the biggest idiot in the world, that’s when I realize I’ve been staring at her like – you guessed it – the biggest idiot in the world..

My ears get all hot and my cheeks get all cold, but not. It’s like, they’re so hot they’re cold. And I look away and suddenly find my worn-out sneakers very interesting.

Smooth, Prince Seth.