Heartbeat, Part 5

I had many mottos in sixth grade, most of them I had made up, and almost all of them had a song. Here’s one of my favorites: if the inevitable is really, truly, inevitable, accept it. Push it along if you can. This was matched to Move Along, one of the All American Reject’s greatest hits.

Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking

Mottos weren’t the only things songs went along with. When I wasn’t daydreaming, there was always a song in my head. Even sometimes when I was.

Time passed.

A month or so into the school year, some kids, including Chris, decided to play the card game version of Deal Or No Deal. I decided to join them. A couple people had a turn playing for a chance to win a thousand grand, most of them winning around twenty-five thousand bucks. Then it was Chris’s turn. I matched the money to the cases, putting the million bucks at case number two. It’s my lucky number. As it happened, something clicked between the two of us when Chris picked his case. He picked number two.

Alex peeked and saw the amount of money in the case.

“There is no frikin’ way you picked the million bucks!” he shouted at Chris, shoving the card in his face. “You rigged it!”

“No he didn’t. I put the million bucks on the two because it’s my lucky number,” I retorted.

“Okay, then how did he know the million was on the two? Chris isn’t psychic, this is BS!”

I’d been wondering that too. All eyes turned towards Chris.

“In my mind there was a star over the two, so I picked it,” the victim in question replied.

I believed him. I really believed him.

“He’s telling the truth.”

“Yeah right.”

Chris’s turn was over. After everyone else had left, I asked him why he had chosen two again. I thought I might get a different answer.

“Two is my lucky number.” What a coincidence.

Hands are shaking cold.

These hands are meant to hold

Three days later, I asked Chris if he wanted to play a game. He said no. Ten minutes later he was playing a game with Shila.

The next day, at recess, I decided to ask two questions. First was Shila, with a green sweatshirt marking her waist. “Do you like Chris?”

When all you gotta keep is strong,

“How long have you known?”

“Around a month.”

Move along, move along,

Like I know you do.

My black sneakers were once again soaked with mud from Oaknut Lake. They pounded the pavement as I approached him.

My shoes stopped.

“Hi Allison.”

Even though Chris was a very sporty person, today his dark green eyes were focused on not a ball or a bat, but a sweatshirt fixed around somebody’s waist.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and it’s going to sound really weird, but do you like her?”

There was a pause.

And even when your hope is gone

“Yes.”

“Ask her out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Move along, move along,

Just to make it through!

It was time for someone else’s sneakers to pound the pavement. Shila looked up, seeing Chris standing in front of her, then she looked at me. I smiled.

I walk across the metal dock, and gaze at a neglected pink lump. It’s thrown over my shoulders and I race against time to the bus stop.

When everything is wrong,

We move along.