The Fate of Our Hearts

Chapter 3 - Having Fun Yet?

Ren

June 1994

Crap!

On Monday, it becomes clear my bus ride plan was nothing short of a total disaster! Charlie, the boy sitting next to Giovanni, must have thought all those glances and smiles were for him!

The whole rest of the week, Charlie is all over me like a bee to honey—sitting next to me at every break and lunch in the quad, finding me wherever I go to try to avoid him, and obnoxiously flirting with me. Maybe this would be more welcome if he brought Giovanni with him. But no. Charlie was totally not on my radar. Who is this boy?

I guess I knew he was one of the Bayfield boys sitting at Giovanni's typical lunch table, but I'd never paid attention to him. I assume he's a skateboarder—always wearing really baggy pants, Ben Davis shirts, and beanies, and I kinda like that, but he's so forward and cocky—getting in trouble all the time.

Why does it have to be this guy to publicly have a crush on me? 

Charlie is cute enough, with his dirty blond hair, brown eyes, and an upturned nose, but I'm not sure about flirting with the school's bad boy. I'm 'alternative,' but by no means a bad girl. My tummy has been feeling funny and weightless all week. It's strange how the warning signs can still feel like the butterflies—I thought I had flirting and boys all figured out, but suddenly I don't know if my nice girl instincts are up to rejecting this particular persistent boy.

All my friends are teasing me and telling me I shouldn't encourage him by talking to him, but it's also highly entertaining for them to watch him pursue me. I'm sure they're having loads of fun gossiping about it. Ugh. This is just the thing they need to get through the last three weeks of school! I just wish I wasn't on the receiving end.

...

Another week has passed since that bus ride, and I'm still at a loss. It's hot at lunch today, with the smell of dry dust and grass in the June air. My friends and I are gathered at our usual yellow metal picnic table, discussing the upcoming dance in a few weeks. I tie my blue flannel around my waist, creating an extra flourish to the simple blue bohemian dress Aayla lent me.

Lunch is nearly over when we spot Charlie coming toward us—he's just not taking a hint. My friends immediately get up to get something to eat at the snack shack to avoid him, abandoning me at the table. Thanks, girls - NOT! I don't try to follow them because I know he'll just tag along. 

I glue my eyes to the table, pretending I can't see him, which is practically comical because he is impossible to miss, wearing a blue and red t-shirt in large, loud horizontal stripes of each—his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Having fun yet?" he says, plopping down beside me at my table. 

I bristle at this annoying line he always deploys at the opening of any conversation.

You'll know when I'm having fun, Charlie. I'll be smiling and laughing with you. 

Maybe someday, an older version of myself will say this out loud. Maybe adding, I'm not interested, okay? But at fourteen, I'm still too shy. Maybe is irrational, but I'm too scared to be seen as rude—to have a tense moment with someone.

"Sure, whatever." I half-heartedly reply, my chin propped in my hand, drawing a shape in the dust on the table. It's the end of a long week, and he has worn me down.

"You doing anything fun tonight?" he says, happily trying to figure out a way to engage me.

"No, it's a school night," bored with the conversation already. "You?"