before going off to a big university.
He caught sight of Emma looking his way. She smiled at him, and he didn’t know what to do. He turned away, sensing that her face fell with disappointment. Why didn’t he just smile back? He couldn’t risk his friends seeing. They’d want to know why he was smiling at her, if he liked her, and then they would give him unimaginable hell over it. No, he was right to look away. If she got her feelings hurt over that, then she was way too sensitive, he thought.
The bell rang. Another fifty minutes of his life wasted. He wondered how high school could be so unimportant, how four years of his life could be so dull and inconsequential. He felt like he was in a prison and was sure many other students felt the same, shuffling like zombies from one room to the other at the sound of a bell. What the hell was that?
Emma brushed by him on her way out of the room. She did not look at him, and he was certain she was mad. Over a smile, he thought, and chuckled. He followed her lazily down the hallway to his locker. His friends had disappeared leaving him alone to stare at her all he wanted unnoticed, unbothered. Her friend wasn’t with her, and he plucked up the courage to go and talk to her. It was safe, he thought.
He approached her locker as she was shutting it.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she answered, aloof.
“When you wanna get together again?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m kind of busy this week,” she replied.
“You mad at me about somethin’?” Better to just confront it, he thought.
“Why would I be mad at you?” she replied.
“I don’t know.”
He hated when girls did that. And they were so good at doing that—affecting indifference when they were really pissed off. Why didn’t they just say what they felt? It would make life for men so much easier.
They stared at one another. She seemed to be making up her mind about something.
“I guess we can meet somewhere tomorrow after school,” she said finally.
So she was going to let it go, he thought relieved.
“You wanna come over to my house?” Anton asked.
“What? So you can get a ride home?” She grinned at him.
“Well, that too,” he admitted. “You don’t know what it’s like riding that bus home. It’s awful.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never ridden a bus to school,” she said.
“Imagine that,” he said sarcastically, and she playfully punched his arm.
“You’re such a butthead,” she said.
Anton laughed hard.
“What?” she asked grinning.
“Nothin’. I don’t know. You the first person ever call me a butthead,” he said still chuckling.
“I’m sure I won’t be the last,” she offered.
He looked down at her and smiled. His friends were right. She was scrappy. A scrappy munchkin, he thought. She didn’t know what went through his mind as he looked at her, but she knew that she liked him looking at her that way.
“I guess I could come over today, too,” she said. “I mean, that’s if you’re not busy. I know you’ve got that new job.”
“I don’t start ‘til next week,” he said.
A thought occurred to her. “How will you get to work? I mean, since you don’t have a car.”
Anton laughed. “Girl, you ever hear of public transportation? Man, what am I sayin’? ‘Course you haven’t. The bus line don’t go anywhere near yo’ house.”
“Whatever,” she replied, trying to brush him off. How could she ask such a stupid question?
“I’m just playin’ with you. You know that.”
“Do you want me to come over today or not?” she asked.
“Sure. I mean, whatever. If you want,” he said trying to sound casual.
Emma placed her hands on her hips and looked up at him. Her eyebrow was raised in a question, and he knew that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she heard him say it.
“Yes, Emma, I want you to come over today,” he said.
She turned to leave and he followed after her.
“You gonna give me a ride home,
He caught sight of Emma looking his way. She smiled at him, and he didn’t know what to do. He turned away, sensing that her face fell with disappointment. Why didn’t he just smile back? He couldn’t risk his friends seeing. They’d want to know why he was smiling at her, if he liked her, and then they would give him unimaginable hell over it. No, he was right to look away. If she got her feelings hurt over that, then she was way too sensitive, he thought.
The bell rang. Another fifty minutes of his life wasted. He wondered how high school could be so unimportant, how four years of his life could be so dull and inconsequential. He felt like he was in a prison and was sure many other students felt the same, shuffling like zombies from one room to the other at the sound of a bell. What the hell was that?
Emma brushed by him on her way out of the room. She did not look at him, and he was certain she was mad. Over a smile, he thought, and chuckled. He followed her lazily down the hallway to his locker. His friends had disappeared leaving him alone to stare at her all he wanted unnoticed, unbothered. Her friend wasn’t with her, and he plucked up the courage to go and talk to her. It was safe, he thought.
He approached her locker as she was shutting it.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she answered, aloof.
“When you wanna get together again?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m kind of busy this week,” she replied.
“You mad at me about somethin’?” Better to just confront it, he thought.
“Why would I be mad at you?” she replied.
“I don’t know.”
He hated when girls did that. And they were so good at doing that—affecting indifference when they were really pissed off. Why didn’t they just say what they felt? It would make life for men so much easier.
They stared at one another. She seemed to be making up her mind about something.
“I guess we can meet somewhere tomorrow after school,” she said finally.
So she was going to let it go, he thought relieved.
“You wanna come over to my house?” Anton asked.
“What? So you can get a ride home?” She grinned at him.
“Well, that too,” he admitted. “You don’t know what it’s like riding that bus home. It’s awful.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never ridden a bus to school,” she said.
“Imagine that,” he said sarcastically, and she playfully punched his arm.
“You’re such a butthead,” she said.
Anton laughed hard.
“What?” she asked grinning.
“Nothin’. I don’t know. You the first person ever call me a butthead,” he said still chuckling.
“I’m sure I won’t be the last,” she offered.
He looked down at her and smiled. His friends were right. She was scrappy. A scrappy munchkin, he thought. She didn’t know what went through his mind as he looked at her, but she knew that she liked him looking at her that way.
“I guess I could come over today, too,” she said. “I mean, that’s if you’re not busy. I know you’ve got that new job.”
“I don’t start ‘til next week,” he said.
A thought occurred to her. “How will you get to work? I mean, since you don’t have a car.”
Anton laughed. “Girl, you ever hear of public transportation? Man, what am I sayin’? ‘Course you haven’t. The bus line don’t go anywhere near yo’ house.”
“Whatever,” she replied, trying to brush him off. How could she ask such a stupid question?
“I’m just playin’ with you. You know that.”
“Do you want me to come over today or not?” she asked.
“Sure. I mean, whatever. If you want,” he said trying to sound casual.
Emma placed her hands on her hips and looked up at him. Her eyebrow was raised in a question, and he knew that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she heard him say it.
“Yes, Emma, I want you to come over today,” he said.
She turned to leave and he followed after her.
“You gonna give me a ride home,