One I missed
I was never popular in school, certainly not with boys. But when I started high school, there was this boy in one class who sat next to me and was always really friendly. He always said hello to me and asked me how my day was going. I developed a crush on him almost immediately, so I was really nervous and answered in monosyllables. He probably thought I was just being unfriendly.
One day, he told me he would be missing school the following day, and asked if I could get a copy of the assignment for him, and he would stop by my house later to pick it up. You can bet I made sure to do that. When he came by the next evening, I was a big dork, and just handed it to him and shut the door. Right after, I thought how I should have invited him in.
It gets worse. He moved a few weeks later, and I never saw him again. But a few weeks after that, I got a letter from him. I still have it. He said how he missed his old school and hadn't made any good friends yet at the new one. He ended it with "I miss you too, Lila." I thought of writing back, but couldn't think of what to say, and after enough time had passed, it felt weird to send him anything. So I never did.
But for years after that I had this rich imaginary life, where I had gone with him to where he had moved, and we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and I was thin and pretty and popular. It would be even more tragic if he was imagining the same thing about me. He probably was.
One day, he told me he would be missing school the following day, and asked if I could get a copy of the assignment for him, and he would stop by my house later to pick it up. You can bet I made sure to do that. When he came by the next evening, I was a big dork, and just handed it to him and shut the door. Right after, I thought how I should have invited him in.
It gets worse. He moved a few weeks later, and I never saw him again. But a few weeks after that, I got a letter from him. I still have it. He said how he missed his old school and hadn't made any good friends yet at the new one. He ended it with "I miss you too, Lila." I thought of writing back, but couldn't think of what to say, and after enough time had passed, it felt weird to send him anything. So I never did.
But for years after that I had this rich imaginary life, where I had gone with him to where he had moved, and we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and I was thin and pretty and popular. It would be even more tragic if he was imagining the same thing about me. He probably was.
