Food, Cats, and Being Lazy

When I got to school the next day, I was thinking about Collin again. Surprise, surprise. I thought about him all the time, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that he actually talked to me. I wanted to go run off and faint somewhere like a woman in a Victorian novel.

After lunch, I said goodbye to Laura and headed off to PE. I loved PE. And probably not for the right reasons. I wasn’t athletic, and I never would be, and I hated doing exercises and even joining in sports. So I slugged behind the rest of the class and usually got picked last if I ever got picked at all. Sometimes, my teacher would punish me for not doing things right, and I’d have to run around the track, wheezing like I was going to drop dead any second.

I loved PE because sometimes the soccer team practiced out there during the early free period for seniors. And that day, Collin was out there with his friends running around in his shorts with his hair shining in the sun. He glistened. And when I thought about the fact that he was sweaty, I also realized that he always looked clean and fresh at school. So then I wondered if that meant the team took showers at school. And then I was thinking about Collin taking a shower.

So I wasn’t focused at all. Not even a little bit. We were on the tennis courts just a bit away from the football field where the soccer team practiced. And I wasn’t paying attention. So my teacher snapped at me and forced me to run the track for the rest of the period. The track wrapped around the football field. So I slugged along like I was dying and wasn’t running as much as wheezing loudly and gasping as I stumbled along. And every time I started getting too slow, I’d hear a shout of “Keep it going, Finnegan!” from the tennis courts.

When the bell rang to let us know class was almost over, I dropped to the rubber track and sat there, hating myself for not paying more attention to tennis. I got to see more of Collin from the court than I did from the track. Even though I was closer, I couldn’t see him since my eyes got all blurry, and I had to focus on staying upright and breathing. And I’d rather blend into a group of kids playing tennis than be the single girl running around the track beside them. Though he did once kick the ball out of bounds right ahead of me, and I got to watch him sprint after it.

I was pretty sure my life was about to change. Maybe it was the haircut. Maybe—something else. I couldn’t think of anything. But Collin and his teammates were passing me to get back to the gym to shower or do whatever they did in the locker room. I looked up just as Collin headed my way. To my surprise, he looked back and nodded toward me in greeting.

I died.

Dead.

“Hey,” he said. And then I died again. But, oh God, please don’t let this be one of those instances where a person is actually talking to someone standing behind me.

“Hi,” I replied anyway.

“Pip, right?” I turned around to see if someone was behind me. Nope. He was definitely talking to me.

“Piper—actually,” I told him.

“Oh. Well, that’s what Vincent calls you.”

“Vincent talks about me?” He looked around at the field and casually bounced his bottle of Gatorade.

“Here. You look dehydrated. I didn’t open it.” He set the bottle down at my feet. “Later,” he said. When he was gone, I laid back down on the track clutching the bottle of Gatorade and staring at the blue sky.

Oh my God.

Collin talked to me.

He gave me his Gatorade.

He called me Pip.

Well, technically, Vincent called me Pip, which was kind of weird. But still.

He called me Pip. He talked about me with Vincent. He knew my name. He saw me running around the track (probably looking horrendous), but he gave me his Gatorade anyway. Those hands touched this plastic bottle. Those lips intended to drink from this bottle. Instead—he gave it to me.

I squeaked out loud. That was another thing my mom hated about me. I squeaked when I was excited. I also squeaked when I was scared or saw cute things. So I did it a lot.

“Finnegan!” my PE teacher shouted. So I jumped up, grabbed the bottle, and rushed to catch up with my class. My face hurt from smiling, but I couldn’t stop. My heart was pounding, and even though I looked atrocious and the humidity made my hair poof up, I’d had the best day ever.

Collin talked to me. He knew my name. He admitted to talking about me with his friends. He gave me his Gatorade. Life couldn’t get any better.