Unforgotten Love

Chapter 2

"Hey, are you gonna throw a ball or what?" A kid asks me. I look up, regrettably at the redhead that the gym teacher called out earlier. I immediately move my eyes away and settle them on the opposite gym wall. "Come on, throw a ball or something. Don't just stand here doing nothing. If you're gonna be on this team you're gonna help us win." I keep my mouth shut, desperately hoping this boy will engross himself in the game again, instead of looking at me the way he is right now. Something about his eyes and his voice is just making me uncomfortable, and I want him to leave me alone. I look around until I settle my eyes on a corner of the gym that's relatively untouched by the dodgeballs and the students throwing them. Yeah, that's where I want to go. No point standing out here, I decide, and start turning away from the redhead. "You must be deaf or dumb. Hey, are you gonna play the game?" The boy finally utters, rolling his eyes and raising his voice all the while. 

Disgust. That's the first thing I feel before the fury starts to settle in. Deaf? Dumb? I start to turn around, ready to bite back the nausea I feel at the thought of speaking to this already despicable boy to tell him to just forget about talking to me and focus on his precious dodgeball. But when I open my mouth, it's not my words that come out. 

"Leave her alone, Bruce. Just because she's on this team doesn't mean she is required to play along with your rules."

The voice is somewhere behind me. I'm too anxious to turn around and see who owns that voice. That surprisingly smooth, calm, warm voice. Almost velvety, but there's a hard edge to it if you're listening close enough. Velvety? I mentally scoff at myself. What are you, a hopeless romantic? You're a 6TH GRADER, Kat. SIXTH. GRADER. Get yourself together, girl!

"Come on, Spencer, it's dodgeball. If you're gonna play, you've gotta play to win," the redhead - Bruce - whines to the person with the voice behind me. Spencer. I don't think I've heard that name before, or have I? 

"Sure, some people breathe sports and want to win at all costs," the boy, Spencer, snaps back. His voice sounds even closer to me now. "That doesn't mean that everybody else breathes sports like you, or has the same competitive nature as you. Leave her alone." 

I watch as Bruce rolls his eyes and walks away, finally focusing on the dodgeball game. Taking a deep breath, I turn around, preparing myself to thank whoever this Spencer boy is. Spencer and his velvety voice. Not. Velvety. Get a grip, rolls through my head yet again. I don't realize just how lacking-my-grip I am until my eyes make contact with this boy for the first time. Wow.

If there was a spark-notes version of describing this boy, it would be something to the effect of what follows: he's tall and skinny. He has slightly curly dark blond hair. His eyes are hazel, and he has a pronounced set of dimples. 

But my brain, my 6th grade, attempting-to-be-a-romantic-like-Shakespeare brain, is screaming: he's a head taller than me - like my brother! - and thin as a bean pole, as my grandma would say. His dark blond hair slightly curls above his ears and around his head. His eyes have such a clear, sparkling, vibrant green to them, evened out with brown flecks, like sunlight hitting trees, and his dimples - oh, those dimples - practically scream of the boy's desire to smile, laugh, bring joy to others. Overall, he has this soft, gentle appearance that makes me think he is easily able to draw people to him, that he is a natural leader in the making, and, oh no, I think to myself. He's gonna be a heart-throb when he gets older. 

Simply stated, in the 6th grade sense of the word, this boy is beautiful. And familiar. Something about him is familiar to me, but I don't know how, or why. 

"Hey, it's Katie, right?" Spencer asks, breaking me from my train of thought, and successfully keeping me from getting too sappy with my thoughts. I'm in 6th grade, I should not be thinking like that, I mentally reprimand myself. I nod to him, unsure of how my voice will come out without making it obvious I need to clear my throat or something to stop from feeling so choked, or shocked, with this boy's easy familiarity. "Okay, I thought so. You okay?"