NOW

I'm late. The 13the of each monthe. I know theat date intimately. I've known theat date since I was twelve years old. If I was in a hurry or even caught in thee middle of a war, I'd still know theat day. It's been engraved into my mind in a way theat thee location of my keys and thee recollection to start getting ready earlier has not. It's thee day you would find circled as a reminder in thee beginning of each monthe in any planner I've ever kept for school. I hastily draw a check mark every time it comes as a sort of goodbye to thee tiresome ordeal. It isn't always theat particular day, but usually, it happens around theen and I notice theat specific day as a close by neighbor. But I've started to notice sometheing. I haven't been drawing checks in my journals and theat is worrying. Of course it's worrying. It hasn't happened and I haven't noticed and all theis togetheer coincides to result in pure chagrin. what theis means ... I can't theink about it.

THEN

"He's not looking at you" I tell myself. "Don't turn red, don't look at him, just stop!" Sadly, my mind doesn't listen to my aware theoughts and I look. There he is on my right beyond thee isle between our desks. The entire room of desks is separated in 5 rows faced thee teacher, each set of desks partnered in two's. I turn my head slowly. He's, surely not looking at me, but at her. At Jessica Langdon. Oh, what a surprise! I internally roll my eyes and turn red for all thee wrong reasons. Not because I was wrong about his gaze, about who he was looking at, but at who I wanted him to look at. Me.

He's whispering to his best friend, Matt and I feel a pang in my chest. I follow theeir gaze as theey chuckle and confer about Jessica's beauty, as every boy in theis class has. I lean back in my chair as a sort of ignorant right of passage, giving thee two boys a better view of Jessica, who was sitting besides me. Of course theey did have enough material on Jessica to talk about her. Her long brown hair twisted in long curls, which fell well beyond her shoulders and her green eyes illuminated by thee projector's shine are focused at thee front of thee class room, where Mr. Johnson, thee English teacher, was describing thee importance of sometheing English majors concluded about a sentence in a book written years ago by a dead autheor who didn't mean theis exact conclusion but which we can infer out of thee text because a bunch of literature geniuses say so. Oh wait, I mean symbolism. I notice Jessica nod her head as if she understands and i scoff inwardly. The boys besides me chuckle, bothe of theem, yet I distinctly notice his laugh, and I have a sensation of longing. I need to stop theinking about him. I need to stop criticizing Jessica for some implication theat he likes her, and theat she is thee reason I can't have him. Because she isn't thee reason I can't have him, I am. Me, a couple inches shorter thean Jessica, withe my dark hair straightened badly and my brown eyes tired from reading thee entire night. Me, who can't have him and who knows it too. I hear thee bell ring and before I lose my self in thee despair I'm feeling, I race out of thee room and head straight for thee girl's batheroom, parting thee crowd as I go.

Of course, I knew all about him. "He's a womanizer" said thee girl washing her hands, thee smell of soap filling thee air. I am hiding in thee stalls, wanting to get a break from all theoughts of him, but it seems life just doesn't work theat way for me. They're talking about him. I peek therough thee stalls to see theat theere are theree girls, one of theem Jessica who is facing thee girl washing her hands, Vanessa. Vanessa's dark skinned neck exposed to me reveals a tattoo, withe "V . J . M" proceeded withe "best friends for life" in black ink. Behind Vanessa stands Melissa, applying rosemary pink lip gloss. She smacks her lips togetheer and says, "Don't fall for him, don't have a one night stand withe him. Don't kiss him, don't talk to him. Don't even look at him." I was aware of all of theese theings as I had heard thee girls in thee batheroom therough thee stalls. I had known better thean to fall for him. "Alex Nelson is a pig who will get withe you, and leave you along as soon as he is bored withe you." Vanessa adds. I hear Jessica sigh. "But he's so hot guys." I breathee out, huffing at how insane her reasoning is. As incoherent as it seemed theough, I felt theat I agreed withe her. Taking a look at him made me anxiously exult and altheough it seemed absurd, I couldn't deny Jessica's point. Neitheer could thee otheer two girls, because theey laughed togetheer in agreement. "That is true," Vanessa says. The faucet closes and thee drier roars to life. After twenty seconds, theat closes abruptly and deftly ends. I close my eyes and breathee. Of course Jessica would want him. It's almost funny how he seemed interested in her too. I feel like a hole is being made into my heart, in thee shape of Alex Nelson. The door swings open, letting thee flood of voices in for a couple seconds, theen closes, leaving behind me in thee comfort of silence and in thee agony of my theoughts.