Confessions Of A Boy-Crazed Fourteen Year Old (Part 2)

Friday, September 6th1

Today was THE best day of my life, thus far. Well, as I stated previously it doesn’t exactly have much to live up to, but that’s besides the point. I’m happy! I have got to be absolutely positively the luckiest girl alive or dead. Can you be considered lucky if you’re dead? The whole dying part can’t be too lucky. . .but I digress once again. Let me start over:2

Today seemed like any other ordinary day. Emma and I are chilling in first period drama class, sitting back in the comfy auditorium chairs and talking about boys. I’m updating her on what shade of black Andy was wearing today, while she fills me in on how badly her ex, Darryl, wants her back. He’s such a loser.3

Our evil teacher, Mrs. Fuller (I wont tell you what nickname we’ve given her already. I’ll just say it starts with an “F” and sounds like “trucker.”) interrupts our gossip to tell the class that we’re doing a partner exercise today. Emma and I nodded at each other, to confirm our partnership. No prob, right? Wrong. The next words out of Mrs. F’s mouth sent a horrified chill down my spine, and I swear bats flew past and in the distance a woman shrieked.4

“All partners will be guy/girl, not girl/girl or guy/guy.”5

What was I to do? Emma was the only person I knew in the whole class! I looked at her, panic in my eyes, to see that she had already paired off with some guy named Brad with spiky hair and braces. I rolled my eyes. Typical. Emma Alexis Wright goes through men like most people do Kleenex. I wish I had half the male attention she did. Then I wouldn’t be sitting here alone looking around the room pathetically while everyone else found partners so easily.6

“Hey, want to be partners?” a voice said from behind me.7

“Sure!” I blurted out a little too eagerly as I whirled around to come face to face with the Mexican kid in my class. “I’m Ariel, by the way,” I said, extending my hand. 8

“I know,” he replied shaking my hand. I must have given him a strange look after that, because he immediately retracted his statement. “I mean, I heard people saying it. . .I thought it was your name, but I wasn’t sure. . .but now I am because you said it. . .ugh, I’m rambling again. Sorry. My name’s Jose.” 9

Our assignment was simple enough. We just had to interview our partners, find out about their lives and present it in a monologue as a close friend or family member of the other person. Great! An assignment all about me!  I quickly started filling Jose in on my birth, how I was raised, all my friends growing up, how I hate my father, how cool Emma is,  how I’m madly in love with Andy, etc. He kept smiling to himself and looking up at me as he scribbled down a few points, but I didn’t think anything of it. Now, looking back, I must have come off a little weird. I spent a good 10 minutes describing Andy and my love for him. But it wasn’t until we flipped and I started asking him questions that I humiliated myself totally by pulling an Ariel.10

“So, Jose, what made you come to Percy’s Academy of the Arts?” I asked. Could our school’s name be any more gay?11

“Well, my parents want me to get a good education. That’s why we moved to Canada in the first place.”12

“When did you move here?”13

“Umm. . .I was 10. . .so about 4 years ago.”14

“Do you ever get homesick? You know, get all mad at the winter weather and start like totally missing the sunny beaches of Mexico and stuff like that?” Jose chuckled to himself and looked at me like I’d sprouted a chicken from my neck.15

“Uh, no. Definitely not.” I did my best Diane Sawyer impression, by leaning forward inquisitively and putting my pen to my chin like I was thinking some profound thought.16

“Really? Why not?”17

“Well, probably because I’m not Mexican. I moved here from Brazil.”18

Pulling an Ariel: saying or doing something incredibly stupid or humiliating, usually in front of the opposite sex.19

I don’t know why I’d just assumed he was Mexican, but I did. I mean, he could have been Puerto Rican, or Cuban, or Colombian, or from anywhere else in Central America for all I’d know. It’s not like I see a lot of diversity in my small town, not to mention my even smaller private school. Other than Jose, there’s one darker skinned kid that goes here. I think those two, plus the Jewish kid and the French girl, are what keeps my insanely white little school up to the status quo.20

Anyway, my face had  turned so red I thought it’d explode. I started to stammer some form of an apology to Jose, but he just laughed and told me not to sweat it. I could have sworn he hated me after that, but in fourth period science (he sits in front of me) he kept turning around to give me answers and make fun of our teacher with me. (The science teacher is HILARIOUS! Seriously. He walks like a rooster, paces back and forth incessantly and has this weird habit of licking the chalk off his fingers. . .Gods, I could go on for hours about that freak.)21

Emma is convinced Jose’s into me. She says it’s completely obvious that he likes me, and I should trust her because if anyone knows men, it’s her. I believe the last part, at least. (p.s. She and Brad are going out now, but she might dump him because she’s into his best friend Calvin.) She even told me that Jose and I should hook up. Yeah right! I mean, he so does not like me. Sure, he’s cute and all if you’re into that whole  “Latin lover” thing, but it’s so not my type. I’m into the hardcore bad boys, the rebels, the punk rockers. Like Andy. 22

Speaking of Andy, I have to tell you why I’m the luckiest girl ever!! Ok, ok. Get this. It’s just after third period math, and Emma and I are taking our sweet time walking up to class. We’re chatting about the whole Brad/Calvin dilemma, and how she’s going to deal switching between them. So we’re walking down an empty hall, when Andy himself walks out of a classroom and is headed straight for us. All these beautiful fantasies start playing out in my head, like he’ll accidentally bump my arm and knock over my books. Then, being a gentlemen, he picks them up for me. I graciously thank him and apologize for being so clumsy, and he asks me out right there. (What? What kind of fantasies were you expecting? Gods, I’m only 14!) So I decided not to move out of his path and allow this chance encounter to occur. As he passed us, my elbow and his stomach connected. I felt Andy! I’m so pysched. I mean, I touched his body! His rock hard abs and my soft yet pointy elbow totally connected. . .23

Pointy elbow. Into stomach. I didn’t. . . .did I?24

Oh Gods, I did. I elbowed Andy, my true love, in the stomach! I mean, it wasn’t a casual bump, like I’d planned, it was horrible! I can’t believe I did that! I pulled another freaking Ariel! He isn’t slowly falling in love with me, he probably thinks I’m some psycho bitch who wouldn’t even move out of his way! What was I thinking? 25

Now I guess I have to do what any woman would do in this position of humiliation and heartbreak. I’ll pop Dirty Dancing in the DVD player, grab a bucket of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and call Emma to cry over how dumb I am. We'll try to regroup and think of a plan to redeem myself on Monday.26