It’s early morning. The grass is so cold that it crackles with frost as I walk through
the field before my bus stop. I begin dreaming of what her hair must
smell like. Probably like some sort of fruit, probably peaches.
I stand at the curb, as I do every day, but this day will be different.
Today will be the day that I summon enough courage to give her
my letter, my very first undying love poem. It is also the day that
she will check the yes box at the bottom of the page that precedes my
signature and succeeds my rather embarrassing question of whether
or not she will be my girlfriend.
The huge yellow bus comes to a stop in front of me. I take a deep breath and
climb the bus’s steep, metal stairs. A wave of anxiety hits me as I look over
all of the seats and over kids’ heads toward the back of the bus. Where
is she? She’s always sitting in the same seat but it seems that she’s not
even on the bus at all today. Anger washes over me as I make it to my
seat and put my love letter in a safer place. Luckily we’re neighbors; I will just
take the letter to her house after school. She must be sick or something.
There’s just no way her parents would have pulled her out of school today
just because of one little admirer. I mean, everything I’ve done up to this
point has been pretty harmless. The dozens of phone calls and random
bouquets of flowers on her porch never hurt anybody. This will be the
first time she will ever receive a letter straight from me, with my name
printed clearly at the bottom. I’m harmless, so why would her parents
take her out of school? She has to be sick today. I guess everything will
come together when I stop by with my letter on my way home.
As I begin obsessing about how different the day will go now that all of
my plans have to change, I feel someone starring at me. I look up to see her
best friend that sits next to her usual spot on the bus. Unlike most people
do when caught starring, she does not look away. Finally, I ask her what
her problem is.
“You’re weird. You know it’s considered stalking, right?” she asked.
I deny all accusations. “She’s switching schools because of you.
You’re such a freak. I can’t believe my best friend won’t be going to the same
school as me anymore, all because of some FREAK!” she exclaimed, nearly in tears.
She grabbed her things and moved to the front of the bus to a different seat.
I stayed silent, going over everything in my head, trying to pinpoint when it
was that I must have slipped up, providing my identity on a silver platter. Now
that the details to our situation have become much clearer, my plans later
today have yet again shifted. I hate having to alter what was once such an innocent
proposal into a much darker, sinister scheme. After mapping it all out in my head,
I shrug and look out the bus windows. The frost on the grass is starting to melt
as the sun gets higher and higher in the sky, bringing the day closer and closer