Not a Love Story.

I’ll be there in about 10 minutes,” he said before I hung up the phone.

I sit at the table as I winnow through the box of old pictures, reminiscing. I come across a stereotypical second grade class picture with children grinning blissfully and blithely. Although there are about twenty faces on the picture, my eyes focus on face in particular.

           

I was running out of the car, late as usual. The cold October morning wind whips across my face. Running to Mrs. Henry’s room, my rolling backpack screeches loudly as I turn a sharp corner and my colorful bows and barrettes slap my face as I sprint to the classroom.

I arrive just as the announcements come on. I go to my seat beside my two best friends, Taylor and James. Both of their noses are buried so deep into their books you can see their eyes on the back cover.

After I sit down, I remember I have lunch money. So, I raise my hand. As my palm is flailing in the air to get Mrs. Henry’s attention, there is a slight poke into my back from a small, curly-haired boy, and a note is forced into my hand. I cram it into my pocket as I finally get Mrs. Henry’s attention. She allows me to leave the room to take my money to the office. In the safety of the hallway, I unfold the letter to see illegible 2^nd grade scribbles and two wine glasses with a bed in between. I crumple the note and force it into my pocket to save myself from mortal embarrassment and social suicide.

As all the early bus riders were bustling out of the door of Coach William’s room, Jaron saunters over, sits in the vacant seat beside, and hands me a small sliver of crumpled notebook paper with words written in sloppy seventh grade boy handwriting that say, ‘Meet me in the foyer when the bell rings.

“What does it say,” he pesters.

“It is none of your business, Mr.Nosypants.” I retort.

“I know it’s just a love note from your boyfriend,” he teased.

I roll my eyes and gather my books into my backpack just before the bell rings. Ring! This sound awakens the jittery butterflies and causes them to flutter around in my stomach. I attempt to waste time by hanging back and talking to my best friend, but she knows of my boyfriend’s plan and causes me to walk faster to him. I cannot believe I’m about to have my first kiss with the same icky, creepy boy who wrote me a note in second grade. The tall, curly-haired, overly comical, boy walks over and pulls me into a tight embrace. We walk outside, hand-in-hand, to find a private spot away from the formidable teachers.

When we arrive outside the butterflies in my stomach were going stark raving mad in my stomach. I close my eyes and go in. Next, I open my eyes, we release hands, and I walk to the big yellow limousine that will take me home.

“Come on, let’s go to the library.” My tall, curly-haired, overly comical, sweet best friend says, “Coach Gray said it is okay.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me out of my seat. We walk placidly to the door, but when we reach the hallway, we begin a frantic skip. Everyone in the hallway stop, stare, and begin “Awwing” like we are a newborn baby that just smiling for the first time. They don’t understand how our relationship. We are the only ones who understand us. We arrive to the library with our chests panting heavily and the talkative, suspicious librarian eyes us with a queer stare.

When my little nostalgic moment is over, there is a loud knock on my front door. It is Ishmael, my tall, curly-haired, overly comical, awkward, sweet best friend. The guy who wrote me an extremely creepy note in second grade, gave me my first kiss, and held hands and skipped down a hallway with me.

“Are you ready,” he asks.

I look at him, smile, and give him a colossal bear hug.

“I love you forever and we are always going to be the two best friends that anyone could ever have. Until we meet our third best friend, then we will be the three best friends that anyone could ever have. Then, our lives we finally be complete,” I blurted.

“Okay… but are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready,” I say, rolling my eyes.

When we get to the car, he blares a Taylor Swift song, and sings all of the lyrics perfectly. I am reminded once again why I love him.