“Hey, Allie, it’s Chris.”
“Oh, right. Hi,” I replied, trying to sound as calm as possible, even though my brain was going one hundred miles a minute, my heart rate climbing with every breath. I had never had a boy call my house before.
“I’m calling because you left your hoodie in French class, and you jetted out of the room before I could catch your attention. I figured you might be looking for it. Anyway, I have it. What’s your locker number? I’ll bring it tomorrow,” he said, without taking a breath.
“Why didn’t you give it to me at practice?” I asked, loosening up now that I knew why he was calling.
“Because then I wouldn’t have had a reason to call.” Surprised by this, I was momentarily silent before he repeated his question. “Locker number?”
“Right. 317,” I replied, trying not to sound flustered but failing.
“Cool, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Okay.”
“Bye,” he said quickly, and then he hung up before I could reply.
I could hear my sister breathing outside my door.
“I can hear you out there, Amy. What do you want?” I said, as she opened the door and came barging in.
“Oh my God, tell me everything. What did he want? He is the hottest guy in school, isn’t he? I love stopping to watch the Varsity soccer team practice on my way to my car after school. You should see the way his hair gets all sweaty and sticks to his face, and his tan cheeks get a little pink from running up and down the field. I about dropped the phone when I answered, and he said who it was. Did he ask about me? Wait, why did you tell him your locker number?” She finally stopped talking long enough to take a breath.
“I left my hoodie in French class, and he just wants to give it back to me,” I said, trying to play it cool, but realizing she was listening outside my door the whole time.
“Oh. Ok. You didn’t answer my question, though,” Amy said as I zoned out. “Did he ask about me?”
“No, he just called about the hoodie, that was it,” I said, and that was enough info for her to spin on her heels with a sigh and a smile and walk back into her room.
As I sat back down on the floor with a giant milk carton-shaped container of goldfish, I tried to get my homework done without thinking about Chris and the anticipation of meeting him at my locker for my hoodie tomorrow. No matter how many times I read the page in my History textbook, I couldn’t remember a single thing it said. Deciding it was hopeless, I shut the book, turned up Ants Marching, lay on my back, and sang along as I counted the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. I wasn’t getting any schoolwork done tonight.
“Bedtime!” Mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
In the pink bow wallpapered bathroom, I brushed my teeth and stared at myself in the mirror as I watched the toothpaste bubble in my mouth, and I closed my eyes. Then I pressed my hips against the bathroom counter and wondered what it might be like if they were Chris’s pressed against mine. Suddenly, I heard footsteps outside the door.
“Holy shit, am I interrupting something?” Amy said, as she bust into the bathroom and grabbed her toothbrush, then she sat down on the toilet to use the bathroom as she scrubbed her teeth at the same time. Amy had no respect for privacy.
“Can you knock? Oh my God!” I said, as I turned the water on, spat into the sink, and stomped out. Once I was in my room, I shut the door and leaned against it. This was the first time I had given a boy any thought. Dave Matthews Band’s Crash started to play, and as his raspy voice started to sing, my imagination drifted away to unrealistic places of desire, and I was suddenly thinking about the possibilities of all of the things I would love to experience with Chris, but was too shy to ever pursue. I knew I needed to get to bed, but my head was swimming with confusion about why I couldn’t stop thinking about those green eyes and long eyelashes.
4
The next morning, we rode to school in silence, except for Carly Simon’s Let The River Run coming through the stereo. When we arrived, Amy parked along the soccer field as usual.
“Thanks a lot. I have to park at the back of the lot because you made me late again,” Amy jeered.
“Actually, you should be thanking me because it means you get to walk past the soccer field later, right?” I said, as I gave her a mocking smile.
“Whatever, it was just a joke, none of those guys will ever notice either of us anyway. Get your bags, we’re going to be tardy if we don’t run,” Amy said, as we both slammed the doors and took off towards the Upper School building.
I ran down the sidewalk with my arms across my chest, trying to minimize the bouncing. I didn’t want the entire school staring at me as I ran past the windows of their classrooms while they were settling into their desks before the bell rang. The last thing I needed was to make a scene, and walking into the room last was bad enough. I still needed to swing by my locker to pick up my books for the first three classes because I wouldn’t have time to grab them after the bell rang. The doors were finally in sight, and I pulled them open to the hall of lockers. I found locker 317, spun the code quickly, and lifted the latch to open it. Out fell a tightly folded note onto the floor. Who would be leaving me a note? I reached down to grab it, shoved it in my jeans pocket, got the books I needed, and slammed the door shut. Off to class, I ran.
When I arrived at my first class, the door was still open, so I entered the room, found a seat in the back, and sat down. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. Phew. When I was pulling my books out of my bag, I remembered the note. I felt for it and reached into my tight jeans pocket. What I pulled out was shaped like a white triangle, neatly folded with the ends tucked in. There was nothing written on the outside to say who it was from. I had seen notes like this exchanged between other kids at school, but I had no idea how to fold them or why they took the time. I unfolded it.
I waited for you this morning at your locker, but I had to go. Come to the soccer field after school. I’ve got your hoodie -Chris.
“What is that, Allie?” Mr. Hurst asked when he saw me reading the note before I tossed it in my bag.
“Just a note about my hoodie that someone wants to return. Sorry for interrupting, it won’t happen again.” Mr. Hurst bought it. Good thing that note didn’t say anything weird in case he had taken it from me.
