Julian

I. January, Ch. 8

      Mr. Hughes stood in front of the class holding a large stack of papers in his chubby hands. "It saddens me to give out only a handful of A's. You had two weeks to write a short story and, no pun intended, many of you came up short."

     The entire class tuned out of his rant.

     Shelley sat in the front row, basking in the premature glory. She spent twice as long as she normally would on her English essay, having turned to her father's dictionary for impressive words. She knew Mr. Hughes was impressed, but she cared more about impressing a pair of clear blue eyes sitting five people behind her.

     Mr. Hughes took the paper from the top of the stack and placed it on Shelley's desk.

     "Highest grade in the class, Ms. Stone. Great work."

     She looked down at her A, licking her lips in satisfaction.

     She was in the middle of reading her last paragraph when Eddie Reynolds, who was sitting behind her, tapped her on the shoulder. He signaled with his eyes to look under his desk, where he held a folded sheet of notebook paper with the words Shelley Stone written in blue ink.

     Could it be? She took it from his fingers and opened it on her lap under her desk.

     You look out of sight this morning. Great job on your paper. -Mr. Cassles

     Shelley's heart inflated. She bit her lip, trying to keep her smile from mutating into a squeal. She looked over her shoulder at her author.

     Douglas sat back in his chair, twirling a blue pen in his fingers. He winked at her like a world-class charmer.

     Her eyes twinkled with flattery, her mind in a whirlwind. She turned her attention to Mr. Hughes, waiting for him to have his back turned. When she was sure he wouldn't notice, she stretched the note out on her desk, wrote on it, then folded it back. She crossed out her name and wrote Mr. Cassles.

     She stood up, walked to the pencil sharpener in the back of the classroom, and dropped the note on Douglas' desk.

     By the time she walked back to her desk, he had opened the note.

     If I look out of sight, you're a dreamboat.

     Douglas chuckled to himself, folded the paper, and placed it in his pocket.

     Shelley heard his laughter behind her. Knowing she was the cause for his joy turned her joints to Vaseline.

     For the rest of the period, she couldn't concentrate on similes or analogies or irony or alliteration or her father or her oath to avoid boys until college, not when she was exchanging love notes with the prince of Julian High. Time went by on rocket-powered roller skates.

     As soon as the bell rang, students rushed out the door.

     Shelley took her time getting her things together. Once her backpack was loaded, she walked out the door to head to trigonometry.

     She advanced three paces down the hall when she felt rough fingers intertwine with her soft ones. They gripped her fingers tight, and when they refused to let her walk, she was yanked back like a running dog reaching the end of his leash. She put on the most coquette smile she could muster before turning her head.

     It was Douglas, wearing his $2-billion-net-family-fortune grin. His backpack strap hung from one shoulder. He leaned into her ear as if he was ready to give her private instructions.

     "Tell me something," he said "If a boy digs a girl, should he bring her to his friends?"

     Shelley felt those strange electric shocks again, the new and exciting ones. She tilted her head at him. "It depends. What's she like?"

     Douglas kept their fingers tangled and walked besides her. "Hm. She's smart, beautiful, and she thinks I'm a dreamboat."

     She giggled. "Do I know her?"

     "Oh, you might."

     They walked together down the hall in an electrifying silence, garnering a few envious glares.

     What was I thinking putting boys aside to read a bunch of books? This is so much better.