The New Kid

I have never been attracted to anyone. It wasn’t intentional. There just wasn’t anyone who caught my eye, until now, that is. The new kid is quiet. He stays to himself. There must be a wall between us and him. I leave wet streaks across my tan slacks from my sweaty palms. I’m doing all the disgustingly cliché things that I hate hearing about. Doodling in notebooks, swirling our names together in a heart, peering over at him praying he doesn’t catch me. One time I caught him looking this way, and the butterflies that should stay in my stomach floated to my chest and began to irritate my heart. My cheeks burned because I knew my heart thumped loud enough to rival the band class down the hall.

He sits in the corner desk, lips set in a straight line, bright eyes always pointed to the ground. He is tall with a mess of curly hair that flops over his forehead. His black school uniform is always neat and wrinkle free, with his slacks hanging perfectly low on his waist. I swoon at everything he does, but when he walks, it’s like he gracefully floats to his next destination. Glancing around the classroom, I wonder why flocks of girls aren’t trailing behind him with hearts in their eyes. He was just the kind of new meat these girls pounced on.

For an entire week, I practice gestures and facial expressions in the bathroom mirror. On the day of our school field trip, I decide I’m ready. I wrote out lines to say on my hand, and conversation starters under the sleeve of my shirt. Today will be the day I speak to my first crush. They dismiss our class to board the busses, and he strays to the back of the line as always. I pretend to forget something, so I can go on last. Walking towards the back of the bus, dodging paper balls and high fives across the aisle, I sit directly across from his seat. Taking a deep breath, I turn towards him and I go for it.

“Hello, I’m Ari. I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you I think you are awfully handsome. Would you mind eating lunch with me tomorrow?” I exhale harshly from holding my breath, a red shade creeping up my face, and a slight tremble through my fingers. There, I think that came out right. He turns his head slowly, lips set into a hard line, and a confused or surprised look across his face.

“Well?” I go on, thinking maybe he’s just shy.

He turns his body towards me, his lips part, and I soak in the words from my first crush.

“You shouldn’t be able to see me.”