Love, especially when sentimental or idealized.

The front doors of my high school have twenty-six steps leading up to them. There is a wheelchair ramp, but no one is supposed to use it unless needed. So, it is a physical and mental workout just to get to school. Physical due to the steps and mental for the dark thoughts that it is a long way down if you trip on a shoelace or if you’re like me, just a master of clumsiness.

I attended Lincoln High School, student population, 42-squared. It was like a small city in itself with five four-story buildings connected to a larger building in the front through multiple halls. They should have had maps that read “you are here.”

You could say it was like attending a university or boot camp if you had to take Lt. Coach Peterson’s advanced PE class. There are days where it felt like a prison, I don’t mean “Jailhouse Rock” kind of prison; more of “Shawshank Redemption” meets “The Rock” where you were not exactly bothered by the other inmates, but you had to deal with self-inflicted solitary confinement.

I suppose that too is a bit too much…it’s a roundabout way of me stating that I felt alone in my school. Again, over 1700 students and for some reason the halls were empty for me. This feeling grew and grew as the months went by. Homecoming? Spent it at home watching “Doctor Who”—the Tom Baker years. Winterfest? Went to a movie, “Black Panther”—by myself. Sadie Hawkins? No one tried to ask me out. I had planned to spend Junior Prom night at LaserQuest.

I admit, I never really tried. I never found the girl of my reality for fifteen years.

Eh, that’s not exactly true, there was one…but I never asked her anything. Not even for the time. There was too much work in making myself look presentable. I enjoyed wearing over-sized t-shirts, jeans, and sandals. My hair was always an unkept mess. I was once asked by a girl if I ever thought of doing something with my hair and I wanted to ask her if she would go out with me if made that change. Of course, I didn’t ask…I had no clue on how to proceed after that.

So, yeah, the idea of Ryan Alexander meeting up with a girl who would want to handle my morose, Eeyore-inspired disposition would be an impossibility.

“Hey, Ry,” my only friend in the world, Lucas Delgado, yelled as he slapped a hand on my back. I almost reached out to see if he had slapped a “pateame” sign on me. Lucas was always pulling some kind of prank. Either on me, the assistant principal or this one dude named Paul who had a fear of worms…so Ryan always had some form of a worm gag ready.

Paul Walker was a senior who once thought he could shove Lucas into a trashcan on first day of high school. Since then, Lucas made plans that would have Mao want to take notes. It started ‘innocently’ but eventually moved to the high school equivalency of psychological horror. When Lucas learned Paul had a disgust towards worms—as one once fell into his mouth during biology—the next stage of terror was afoot.

“What’s up, Luke?”

“I have a few surprises planned for today.”

“Such as,” I asked as we started walking up the steps.

“Oh, it’s an amazing surprise, but I’ll give you a hint. You know today’s spaghetti day, right?”

“Yeah, every Thursday is.”

“I have a surprise for Paul,” Lucas took a small canister out and held it up.

“What species is it?

“Nematomorpha.”

“What are you going to do?”

“A magician never gives away his secrets.”

I nodded as I took the second to last step and nearly fell on my face as my attention turned to a girl I had never seen. Maybe she was new or maybe she was in a different grade. My mind made up several backstories about her and why we had never met. I quickly looked away but took a mental snapshot of her: blue eyes, red hair, and a body I would have wanted to hold against me without delay if I was brave enough.

I shook my head once again as I didn’t know what to say to her.

“That chick’s a dude,” Lucas said as he opened the front door.

“Say what?” I asked as I looked back, but she was no longer standing there.

“Yep. Heard about it from James.” I was about to ask how James knew but Lucas tossed the can back and forth between his hands. “He said he got in her pants and, had a “Crying Game” experience.”

James was one of many guys who claimed to have bedded every girl at the school. Yes, he even counted first-year students—and he was a senior. I knew him because he was Lucas’ brother, and he would ask me questions like “have you ever felt a girl up?” even though I was just twelve years old at the time.

“Try to get a hold of a pair of her panties,” James would say.

“Why?” I asked with extreme innocence.

“You’ll find out,” he would say with a grin.

I treated Lucas’ comment like I did anything James asked: with a look of extreme confusion on my face. This caused Lucas to roll his eyes.
“Just know that she’s a he. I wonder how many other chicks with dicks go to this school.”

I could only shrug my shoulders. I had no idea and there was no way I would ask such a question.

“See you near the cafeteria. Remember, today the vending machine is your friend.” Lucas commented as he bowed like he accepted an award.

I turned back to the door, with an inkling thought in my head to go back and meet up with the girl. I turned and fought agains the current of students coming in until I could reach one of the doors. Upon stepping out, I looked to where I saw her earlier and then all around. She wasn’t there.

I sat in my desk for my US history class, taught by the nearly as old as the union himself, Mr. Randy Jackson—and no, he had absolutely no idea what American Idol was all about. He considered Ronald Raegan to be the true ‘Murican Idol. He seldom if ever called on me, even if I knew the answer. It was as if I was invisible. I was invisible every other day except for that one because I caught his attention while zoning out, daydreaming about the mysterious girl.

I could still see her face, the depths of her eyes and the way her hair would move if it was a windy day. I showered her with flowers, jewelry and would bow to her before wrapping her in an embrace and dance with her like that scene on Titanic. I pulled her close to me and when I looked at her face, she had become Mr. Jackson!

“Are you with us today, Mr. Alexander?” His voice boomed out.

“Yes sir,” I replied as I raised my hands to make it look like I was brushing hair from my face but I was really trying to see if I was drooling.

“Perhaps you can us about what happened at Pearl Harbor?”

“No, Mr Jackson.”

The rest of the class snickered, and I could my face turn a hue of dark red.

Mr. Jackson lumbered back to his lectern and shuffled through a deck of notecards. He used the same notes each year and it was possible that a few of his cards belonged in a museum.

After class was over, I piled my books into my backpack and made the long trek across campus. I stopped by the vending machine first, per Lucas’ instruction and stood behind a girl with red hair. I laughed in my head, as I was obviously imagining seeing her everywhere I looked. There were a lot of redheads at our school. I concentrated to lower my thoughts, prayers, and hormones. The girl pushed the buttons for a pack of M&M’s and the package slammed to the bottom of the machine. The girl bent down slowly, and the voice of James spoke like a perverted form of Yoda “Ass, go for. Ass go to always. Touch if can.” I fought looking at any part of her and kept my eyes up front. She stood up and spun around, nearly hitting me with the backpack slung over her shoulder. I bent back a little to avoid the loose strap.

She looked horrified, either of me, or the thought of my face touching her backpack. My expression froze in a “there is so much I want to tell you…the first would that I love you.”

“Can I ask you your name?” I asked as I tried, and failed, to avoid staring at her.

“You just did.”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“Leslie. What’s yours?”

“Ryan Anderson,” I replied. I would have given her my social security number if she asked.

“Well, Ryan, I think we’re going to be late to our next class.”

“Yeah…can we meet up later today? If you want to.”

“How about here, at lunch?”

Our school had different lunch periods, depending on the classes. Freshman and sophomores had theirs at 11:45, with juniors and seniors at 12:15.

“I’ll be here,” I replied, hoping she was in my grade, but I didn’t ask.

“I’ll see you then, Ryan Anderson,” she said and then ran down the hallway in the opposite direction I needed to go in.

I watched her dash away, and I could swear she looked back a few times.

A quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life.

Mrs. Jemison droned on about the chapters of “The Hobbit” we were supposed to read. I avoided eye contact with her as I had not read said chapters. Sure, I had four days to read them but the world outside of the classroom called to me, telling me to complete a few chapters of ‘Final Fantasy 7’ instead. I had my book out along with the questions we supposed to go over, making it look like I was ready to talk about The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins and his mission to get a ring.

My thoughts were on a different kind of ring. Yes, it was ridiculous, and Lucas would say it was stupid, but I thought of a golden ring with a quad of diamonds. The design of the ring changed in my head and the expression on her face revolved from ecstatic, happiness, anger, indifferences and finally resting back on happiness with her face blushing along with mine. Large wedding, lots of people. Later, a colossal house, including a pool built into the hillside.

At 11:35, while Mrs. Jamison was distracted by someone who had fallen asleep and fell out of their desk, I slipped out into the hallway. I had never ditched a class before or snuck out of of one. The consequences of my actions crossed my mind for a few seconds. As did her not being there. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone tricked me. Lucas “catfished” me with a series of notes from a girl named “Franchesca.”

Seven notes, each one building on the other to devote my time and attention in meeting with her.

I shared notes with Lucas and he egged me on to learn more about her. Not sure how I was supposed to do that as the notes were always left in my locker with no way to respond. The last note told me to meet her at far side of the football field at four-thirty, where I promptly bombarded by a firing squad of football players throwing hail Mary’s at my face.

The clock read 11:40 as I approached the lunchroom. There was only one way to enter the cafeteria without setting off door alarms. I slowed my walk down, marched past the doors and trekked down the freshman hallway for thirty seconds before turning back. It was going to be a long four minute and thirty seconds. It was going to feel longer than that. I didn’t know if she was going to show up or not. Perhaps her lunch was at 12:15 after all? I had never seen her before that morning, so I had no idea.

My heartbeat raced, in anticipation of Leslie appearing or being a no show. I also thought that at any second, Mrs. Jemison would come stomping through the hall like Smaug, roaring about how I was going to fail her class. Some students came up to the doors and went into the cafeteria. I looked at my watch. It read 11:44. One minute until the bell, one minute to the truth or I would have to repeat this at 12:15. At least I could witness Project: A.N.N.E.L.I.D.

The bell rang and the doors in the freshman and sophomore wings swung open, releasing a swarm of students into the hall. There were too many bodies for me to see across the hall. I stood up on my tiptoes to see get a better view but to no avail. Only two minutes had passed but I already made up my mind that must have had a later lunch…or had she taken a page from Lucas’ handbook.

“Ryan?” A voice standing next to me asked. I turned to see her, Leslie, standing next to me. Her face didn’t look like a mask, and I didn’t see any signs of a wig. “Sorry, I was a little late. I wasn’t sure to put my books away or to just bring them with me…but that would look weird. I mean, yeah, you would have thought, ‘hey, Leslie brought her books to lunch with her.’”

“No problem.” I replied as I studied her face, perhaps a bit too long.

“I sometimes bring my books to lunch with me. I should not have said that.”

“I got a few teachers who think I should have my books surgically attached to my hand so I’d have no excuse to read it. How can one get dressed like that?”

“Not to mention going to the bathroom,” she replied with a nervous laugh. “So, Ryan, I get to ask you another question.”

“Fire away,” I said with a beaming smile on my face, a smile that hid the dark thought of the other shoe, the one filled with cement, to drop.

“Were you looking at me on the steps?”

“Yes, I literally fell into your gaze.”

“Did you now?”

“I think everything happens for a reason,” I began as she nodded.

“Go on.”

“So, when I tripped, I saw your face and I decided that if I was to fall on my face, and then down the stairs, I would have to wonder if I was already in heaven because I saw an angel.”

“Do you say this to every girl?”

“You’re the only one who will ever hear it.”

She stood there for a moment, and her mouth then curled into a smile. “That is cute.”

“No, no you’re cute,” I replied.

“Who put you up to this? Was it Jamie or Kim?” She looked around, twirling her body around to see if anyone was watching us.

“I have no idea who they are.”

Leslie took a step forward and then walked over to the wall on the other side of the hall. I followed. She turned back to me and stamped her foot.

“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this moment?”

“About three hours?” I asked.

“And there’s a part of me that thinks this is some kind of sick joke.”

“I have never met you or known about you, Leslie, until this morning. I would love to see if we could learn more about each other.”

“Let’s do that,” she said as she looked to her left and right. My eyes didn’t leave her face. “I have a few more questions.”

I nodded as she took a step towards me.

“Why me?”

“Like I said, I saw you and wanted to meet you.”

“I see,” Leslie said, her face turning serious. “If we were to say, go out on a date, what would we do?”

James’ voice ran through my head, ‘grab ‘em by the pussy. They love it.’

“Where would you like to go? Pick any place…London, Vienna, or Paris?”

“France?”

“Texas. But okay, Paris, France it is. What do you want to do there?”

Her face lit up and she looked up in a ‘thinking pose.’ “Hmm, where would we go.”

“Oui, we.”

“There’s the Louvre, The Arc de Triumph. Oh, the Eiffel Tower,” Leslie exclaimed.

“And after we visit those locations, we could find a bistro that serves strong coffee.”

Her expression broke into a puzzled look, “wow…that sounds…”

“We’ll go there one day,” I replied.

“Now I know you’re kidding.”

“No, we’ll go there, but only if you want to,” I said as I reached out for her hands. I was relieved when she raised them to meet mine. “I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

My hands at once started sweating. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice but unfortunately the glands on my palms were working overtime.

“Are you a senior?” She asked.

“Junior” I lied. “You?”

“Sophomore.”

“We have to sign up for the same classes next year.”

She moved her thumbs across my hands. I so wanted to reach in and kiss her. A few things stopped me: the thought that she’d slap me, a teacher would see us, and the thundering sounds of trays crashing to the floor, a rush of students screaming and running front the cafeteria, and an alarm blaring through the halls kind of ruined it.

Leslie took my hand, and we followed the barrage out the front door and onto the front lawn The entire school stood outside on the lawn. I expected the fire department or the National Guard to show up in full gear. Everyone was looking for a fire, an active shooter, or—as one girl said—Taylor Swift was going to show up. Leslie stood next to me as Lucas weaved his way through the crowd and pumped his fist into the air a la John Bender.

“Not exactly the success I was looking for.”

“Success?” I asked.

“Premature mastication,” Lucas replied as he looked at us holding hands. “Catch you later, Ry!” Lucas exclaimed as he hopped and danced away.

“What did he do?”

“No idea,” I replied. “It had something to do with worms though.”

“Was he going to put it in the spaghetti? Leslie whispered.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m interested,” her mouth almost kissed my ear, and I could feel her breath as the hair on my ears stood up.”

“It has to do with this guy named Paul.”

“The one with the nervous tic?” She asked as she stepped away.

“Lucas is the reason he has it. And whatever it was he was going to do seemingly failed.”

“I don’t know, it is getting us out of class.”

I nodded. “Does it beat Paris?”

“All we need are a couple of berets”

“Oui, oui.”

An emotional attraction or aura belonging to an especially heroic era, adventure, or activity

Lunch wasn’t cancelled but consisted of everything else but the spaghetti. The lunch ladies were arguing amongst themselves and one of was on the phone shouting at someone. Leslie had gone on to her classes and as much I wanted to ditch my classes, I didn’t ask if she was game.

I sat in the lunchroom with my gachapon vending machine prize-a bag of pretzels. I looked at the people around me. There were a few couples sitting together but seemingly distant to each other, like the spark we possessed had died in their relationship and they were going through the motions. I didn’t want to happen to me and Leslie.

Without enough money to fly to Europe, let alone drive to Texas I had to ponder on what to do. I wanted to take her anywhere she wanted, and I would if I owned a car. The thought of asking my dad to borrow his car one day would start a losing game of Twenty Questions and then bad cop mom would join-in at round two to grill me about Leslie. I could tell them a lie to avoid an inquisition, or I could tell them how I felt about her. I’d tell them she was the girl I would consider marrying, assuming Leslie would go along with it.

And there I was, thinking in a dream again. My parents would tell me that love is fleeting and marrying the first person you dated was usually a bad idea. “You can’t live in the emotion,” they’ll say and I will respond that I love her, even though we just met.

I walked up the stairs to the second floor of the school to reach biology class. The conflicting stories of what happened earlier spored through the air. They wondered who did it, how it was done, and why no one ever thought about doing it sooner. I thought about telling them. I knew the truth and I wanted those coveted social brownie points, but I did not want to be on Lucas,’ and James’ by extension, hit list.
I sat down at my assigned table in Biology and waited for Lucas to walk in. I had to wonder if he would swagger or simply walk in to tell me what his next move would be. Lucas never showed up. He was absent from the entire period. I didn’t dwell on it, as there were days Lucas would skip class—usually on days when Mrs. Harris would gift us with a long-winded lecture about the chapter. I would let him copy my notes because that’s what friends are for, right?

An hour later, the halls were again abuzz with an update: the culprit was sent to the office. They mentioned Lucas’ name, followed with the question “who?” That was enough for me to run down the stairs and then ‘power walk’ to avoid any teachers who would want to pull me over for abusing the speed the limit in the hallway. I approached the office and saw James standing near the door.

I was three seconds from asking him what happened when James grabbed me by the collar and slammed me agains the wall. His eyes were glazed over with anger and was not going to listen to anything I had to say.

“Mr. Delgado!” A teacher screamed and James lowered me to the ground.

“Who did you tell?”

“About what?” I asked. I wasn’t about to say anything else; I plead the fifth.

James lowered me down, the rage subsiding as several teachers surrounded us. James took a step back with his hands in the air. He nodded at me and then looked back to the office. A couple of police officers approached the door and went in.

“Get back to class, Ryan,” one of the teachers said, completely ignoring the scene of me being hoisted into the air and becoming a piñata. I nodded and went on to my next class, with a few students gawking at me. Lucas was in the office for Worm War One. I had a fleeting thought to tell the principal myself. A prank or two, despite being horrible, was better than the biohazard that had occurred.

James made it look like Lucas was innocent or that everything was blown out of proportion. No one died, no one was threatened (except for me, after the fact). There were times I wondered if Lucas would run for president or rot in prison. Maybe both.

I got to my locker, opened it up and then took a deep breath, being so glad Leslie was not there to see what happened. How could I ever face her again if she saw me as a shake weight. I shuffled notebooks and textbooks for my next class and then closed the door.

“Are you okay?” Leslie stood out of my peripheral vision.

“Yeah, why?”

“The big guy who had you against the wall.”

“That’s just James, Lucas’ brother. A misunderstanding.”

“I’d hate to see him if he was pissed.”

“You’re a bit far from building B.”

“I wanted to walk with you to your next class.” She replied as she switched her backpack from her left to her right shoulder to take my hand. I caught a small glimpse of a blue and pink keychain along with a Pikachu charm hanging from one of the straps.

“Gotta catch ‘em all?”

“It is my destiny,” she replied with a smile.

I wanted to tell her I thought she was my destiny, but, again, it was too early to say things like that; too soon to make up poetry about her and too premature to send out wedding invitations. But seeing her smile like that at me, it made my heart light-up and shattered the image of the horrors of my life up to that moment.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, as I was grinning like an idiot.

“So many things. Some of them a bit too soon to bring up.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I know that’s a loaded question.”

“Maybe it is, but go ahead. Say it.”

“Promise me you won’t slap my face.”

“You’re holding my hand; I think you’ll have enough time to dodge it.”

I took a deep breath. “This may be a bit early, but…”

“Wait, let me say something first,” Leslie interrupted. “I have had a crush on you, but I was afraid to talk to you. When I saw you looked at me this morning, I thought it was a sign. And then at the snack machine, I took it as a good omen.”

We stopped short of the door of my next class as the bell rang.

“Same,” I replied.

“Just ‘same’?”

I didn’t care if every teacher, coach, janitor, or member of the school board who read the student handbook stood around us, I let go of Leslie’s hand and then kissed her on the lips.

There was a surprise look on her face. “You beat me to it. I’ll get you first next time.”

“I look forward to it,” I replied with a smile as I walked into class.
 

An exciting, enjoyable love affair, especially one that is not serious or long-lasting.

Lucas walked into fifth period devoid of the usual smile and glint in his eyes. He didn’t acknowledge anyone or look at anyone, including me, for the first few minutes of class. He usually asked me for my notes by then, so I already had a copy ready to hand over.

“Did James talk to you?”

“Not exactly,” I replied as Mr. Philbin clapped his hands to get our attention.

“When I find out who squealed,” Lucas whispered with a threatening tinge.

“I didn’t say a wor-”

“Mr Alexander! First canoodling in the hall and now interrupting class. Want to go for the trifecta?”

“No, sir.”

Lucas looked at me in shock and turned his head to the front. He then lightly tapped his desk for me to hand over my notes, which I did.

We walked out of class at the end of the period and Lucas shook his head. “My dad was pissed; but I kind of think he was angry because I was sloppy.”

I had no idea what Lucas’ parents did. They were seldom at home, so James became a surrogate father to the both of us. He introduced me to cigarettes, dirty jokes that would be forbidden even on a grubby street corner, and Hustler magazine. I wanted to take anything and everything James said and try to do the opposite. Lucas bought into his older brother’s life lessons about girls.

“Did you get in trouble with the principal? I asked.

“Nope. I said I was innocent and my dad took my side.”

“So you got away with it?”

“This time, yes. I’m going to have to make better plans…or find another target.”

“I say you won against Paul.”

“No, I lost, Ry. He knows the secret now and I wanted him to feel the pain. No, I’ll have to find someone else to occupy my time,” Lucas replied with a grin.

“Who?”

“There are so many targets.”

There were times Lucas really did scare me. While James would use physical attacks, Lucas had graduated to social and emotional. I feared I would be his new target.

“It takes some introspective and checking off names. Who’s pissed me off or who’s a jerk to others. Think of it as being a social justice warrior of Lincoln High.”

I only nodded as I reached my sixth period class.

“See you later, Ryan,” Lucas said with a smile. It was a joker grin. I felt at my back again for a signs or a knife.

Sixth period was my Algebra class and, once again, I tried not to make eye contact with the teacher, Mrs. Smith as I had other thoughts on my mind. I made it look like I was paying attention as I wrote down notes. These were notes I was writing to Leslie, where I would tell her I was a freshman and not a junior. I thought I was on thin ice by lying about that, that she would find out I was a class behind her, and I was younger. The social implications over that alone would shatter my universe. Others could toss little white lies all around to keep the peace but that made a fake relationship. Between my insecurities and a lack of better advice about women, I wondered if this would last for a day.

I stopped writing my note and concluded that once again I was painting a picture that may never develop. I’d become depressed over it and compare every girl to Leslie. I’d have to find someone with red hair and green eyes, one with a crazy smile and the love of talking about anything.
On top of it all, I needed a real friend.

There was a commotion in hallway when I stepped out of class. A crowd of students surrounded a fight. I knew it was a fight since I could see James. The other guy must have been kind of short because I couldn’t see them over everyone else.

“Maybe he found out who ratted Lucas out,” I whispered to no one and tried to battle my way to the front of the human arena. If whoever it was survived James’ brutality, I would have to secretly applaud him for being a braver man than I ever could.

Then, I heard a familiar voice through the grunts, causing me to ruthlessly shove my way to the front. I made it to the front and my eyes flashed in horror to see James grapple Leslie and slam her into the wall. Lucas moved to get in front of me.

“I found the squealer, our resident tranny,” he said with a laugh. “I thought it was him. Of course, I thought it was you too.”

My eyes darted back and forth between Lucas and Leslie. I pushed Lucas to the side with so much force toppled several other students. I didn’t have am offensive plan, I only wanted to get her out of there. I body slammed James him to stumble and lose his grip on Leslie.

“Go!” I yelled and she darted from down the side of the hall, leaving me against someone who outweighed me by at least one-hundred pounds.

Once James recovered, I figured I was going to die, but at least my parents could engrave the words “he had good intentions” on my headstone. Lucas stepped next to his brother and looked at James who nodded.

Lucas ran full tilt and threw a punch at my stomach with a very painful connection.

“I told you it was a he! A fake girl, and you’re kissing it? A boy who ratted me out?”

“I wish it was me who told them.”

“What?” Lucas asked as he slapped his hands on my face.

“You really need to get help, Lucas,” I replied and then pushed him away. The problem was I did not know how to fight, honorably or mêlée.

Lucas tagged James and he grabbed me by the arms.

I really wanted to know where the adults were at, the teacher’s lounge?.

“Kind of thought you were kind of fruity,” James sneered, “Just didn’t know when you would show your fag hand. So, why don’t I break your arms so you won’t be be to touch any boys,”

“Says the eighteen-year-old guy who says he slept with a thirteen-year-old, last week,” I spat out, ready to hear the snapping a duel set of radius and ulna bones.

Coach Peterson and Mr. Jackson plowed through the student bodies and grabbed James’s arms, allowing me to break away and run down the hallway.

I had to find Leslie.

The expression of love and affection, often through acts of kindness, admiration, and shared experiences.

I ran through the halls on a fool’s errand to find her. There were too many buildings, classrooms, and bathrooms to go through. However, I kept up my race, thinking I could find her. I almost given up until a girl exited from the girl’s locker room and grabbed me by my still aching arm.

“Are you Ryan?”

“Yes. I’m looking for Leslie, is she in there?”

“She wanted me to tell you something.”

“What?” I asked, out of breath from my sprinting, this girl seizing me.

“She said you can go to Hell.” The girl commented and pointed at the door.

I stared at her in surprise for a second but then looked to the door, opened it, and walked in. Surprisingly, it looked like the guy’s. It smelled better but the expected several couches and easy chairs in the corner were missing. Leslie sat on the far of a bench between rows of lockers.

“What are you doing here?” Leslie asked, her face showing, sadness. Pain, and anger.

“I didn’t say any of that. I…I never said anything like that to anyone.” I said as I kneeled in front of her. “If I could have stopped him, I would have.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It happens from time to time.”

“I don’t want it to ever happen to you again. It’s not…not right.”

Leslie looked at me with a blank expression. “Not right? Of course it’s not right…but I can’t do anything to stop anybody from doing it.” She looked down and turned to the wall. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’ve thought about doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“What they want me to do. What Lucas said I should have done.”

“No, no. You’re like this funny and joyful girl who I’ve through everything about since seeing you.”

“I’m not funny,” she replied.

“I think you’re a blast. You’ve brightened up my day and I’m not going to stop looking at that sparkle in your eyes.”

“And you’re a liar.”

“The only lie I said was that I was a junior.”

“I know. You’re a freshman.”

“I didn’t know if that was going to be a problem.”

“It’s not. What is what you said about me.”

“I said nothing to Lucas or James about you.”

“You’re embarrassed to talk about me to your friends?” Leslie stood up and stared at me.

“No, because I finally realized they’re not my friends. They never have been.”

She sat back down and turned away from me. “Just go away, Ryan. You will eventually.”

“No, I’m not going to go away,” I replied walked around to the other side. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you sooner. If I had known I would have stepped in front of them sooner.”

“I told the principal about Lucas.”

“That’s fantastic! I wanted to the same, but I was afraid what would happen.”

Leslie looked up at me for a moment, “I understand. They’re psychopaths.”

“Leslie?” I asked as I bent down in front of her. “I want you to know I will only leave you in tell me too. We shouldn’t care about how psychos like them feel, and as long as we’re together, we won’t.”

I reached out to take her hands. She hesitated for a second but then reached out. “I can show you the world…”

“A Disney fan too?” She replied with a smile.

“There it is. There’s your sparkle.” I said as I pulled up, still holding onto her hands.

“Ryan, do you believe things happen for a reason?”

“Le bon et le mal,” I replied, “for the good and the bad. I’ll be at your side.”

“Are we still going to go to Paris?”

“The city of love…but any city can be the city of romance as long as we’re together,” I whispered and pulled her close.

Inspired by the song, Kaitenshitekarakangaeru