RHD

Tristan - Areena

"Ah–I don't know," I say, twirling my fingers with each other.

"Oh, okay, bye" she says, turning around to where she came from. I twirl around to my front.

I look out, stop, turn back.

"I'll go on the date with you."

She turns around, "you will?"

"Yes," I twirl my hands together.

"Do I pick you or I?" she asks, moving her hands. "You, ah, I'm free by 6, are you?"

"Yeah, free—I'm free, your number?" she responds, taking out her phone.

"Your name," I ask.

"Areena," she says, pulling her posture higher. Her face, flowy long curls, her birthmark and her name is truly beautiful.

"Areena. What a pretty name."

"It's a beautiful, name," I stammer.

"Brain fried. Should have slept later."

"Thanks," she says, blushing.

"Tristan," I say, "I already know, my brother played with you last year, baseball."

"What's his name?"

"MX," she says. "Maxca, second baseman, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did he tell you about me?"

"No, I saw you at the game an–and asked about you," she says, stumbling on her words. "I ask about you, not him," she says, hands twitching.

I nod.

Brain fried too.

"Your phone number," she says holding up her phone, "mine is 3401- — -542."

She writes it down, my phone starts ringing.

I take it out of my left pant pocket and press the brown button. "Hello," I say, pressing the phone to my face, "hi."

"Well, the date's set, I'll see you at six then?" I smile. "Yeah, see ya," she waves to me, turning back to where she came from.

I wave. I turn to my front.

I just got a date with a girl named Areena.

Her name is Areena, and she has long brown curly hair, and dark brown eyes.

I walk over to my locker and kneel down. 

I put the pin into it, a semi-clean locker faces me. I take out my math material, I close the locker with my leg.

I open the door to the room and get in.

"Why are you late?" Ms. George asks from her desk; the room is quiet, the only source of light coming through the windows.