Weeping Willow

Chapter Two.

The next school day is long. I sit in the middle row of the small classroom and write four lines of words in the margins of my worksheet that have absolutely nothing to do with PreCal. My pen presses to the page, creating words instead of numbers, despite my attempt to focus on what Mrs. Gummer is saying. I'm trying to pay attention, really I am. It's hard though, when my mind is with a tortured couple on the paper in front of me. The lines read of rain and hurricanes and loss and commitment.

I honestly have no clue where half of the words come from, considering I don't have a boyfriend. I've had a few boyfriends while in High School, but none of them were remotely inspiring. Tate Sanders was one of them. It was our Freshman year when we dated for about two weeks. Our short-lived rendezvous was your typical first relationship between two shy teenagers. We talked a few times; we held hands once and almost kissed twice. My mom liked to tease me about dating him, which traumatized me further. We both just sort of broke it off without anything too official. I think one of us may have passed a note to the other if I remember the scandal correctly.

The second was a guy named Julio. He was my longest boyfriend, just over six months during my junior year. My parents liked him and I did too. I was upset when he broke up with me but the pain was really only embarrassment because I wished that I had been the one to do it first. We didn't know each other very well when we started dating but I think that's what people my age do. They date people because their friends are doing it and it seems fun when people on TV go through the craziness of teen dating life. The problems that came with him just weren't worth it. Reese, his ex-girlfriend and one of the meanest girls in my grade, came along with him. I didn't like him enough to deal with the craziness that came along with her. Most of the time I have little interest in dating; I'd rather be online or writing than spending my time fighting with other girls over a boy's attention.

I continue thinking about this when the bell rings and as I walk to meet Crane by her locker. When Crane got her first boyfriend, she kept telling me how much fun she was having. Another person to share my time with, who lets me wear their hoodie that hangs to my knees? Doesn't sound too bad. He would tell me that my hair is some beautiful shade of brown when in reality, I have only dyed it once, in my living room and the color faded a while ago leaving a mud brown. Again, not too bad. It's the awkward first stages that I want to avoid at all costs. That tends to be an issue in dating, you can't avoid the awkward stages.

Crane doesn't seem to have to suffer through those awkward stages. She is always head over heals for her boyfriend's. I love how confident and outgoing she is. She's wearing Jesse-tall dark and mysterious' black zip-up hoodie over her jeans and t-shirt. He's walking next to her, staring at her like we're in a corny television show, but I don't mind watching because she's just so happy and she's my best friend.

"Jesse says he knows someone who can drive us to The Quarter tonight," Crane says when they reach the locker, excitement ringing in her voice. Jesse smiles at me and nods a polite hello. He's a nice guy and he always makes eye contact with people, I like that for some reason.

"Who?" I ask her. I lean against her locker check my phone while I wait for her answer me.

I love going to the French Quarter but my parents don't let me drive there. They're usually okay with me riding with someone as long as they know them but they aren't comfortable with the forty-mile drive until I've had my license longer.

"My brother can drive us, he's going to a concert there. He can't get us in the concert but he can give us a ride," he explains. He lets go of Crane's hand and helps her take her backpack off her back.

"When?" I ask, already forgetting what she just said. She rolls her eyes playfully and repeats, "tonight." She opens her locker and stacks the books on top of one another. Her Biology book, brown folders and balls of crumbled paper keep sliding out and she pushes them quickly, slamming the locker door closed. I laugh and she bows, waiting for applause. Jesse humors her, clapping his hands together while she takes another moment. People stare as they pass us but we're in our own world.

"Just think, next year we will be so close to downtown," Crane reminds me.

Our college campus is much closer, only about five miles from our favorite places to go in New Orleans. We love walking the old brick streets of the Quarter, imagining how life was in the 20's there.

Incredible, we agree. Crane says she would be a shop owner, selling love potions to lovesick teens and I would be the owner of a coffee shop in Jackson Square, the short-lived Bohemia of the 1920's. I can't wait to live so close to the vibrant city. College is going to be amazing.

"Oh I can't tonight," I remember. "My parents are already going to Willow and they got tickets for a reading. The woman's name is Maya Crawford and she's amazing. I've watched her readings online and I'm not missing it," I tell them.

"How many tickets did they get?" Crane asks, intrigued by the idea. My parents love having her around and I know she loves being around them. My parents give her what her parent's schedules won't let them and they always welcome her into our home without hesitation. Her parents just work so much.

Seeing how little time she gets with them makes all the more grateful that my parents work so close to home at the jewelry store they own. My parents are always home when I return from school and on days they aren't, I drive to the store and get my homework done there. The locally owned bookstore next door has some of the best teas I've ever tasted.

"I'm sure they grabbed four," I tell her. They always do.

"Sorry Jesse," she looks at him with her best smile. He nods, laughing.

"It's cool. I get it," he holds his hands up and she puts her arm around me.

I say goodbye to the mushy couple and tell Crane to meet me at my house at five so we can leave on time. If I don't tell her a half-hour early, she will be late. When I get home, my parents are in the kitchen. My mom is sitting at the table threading a bracelet with yarn. I watch as her fingers skillfully tie on a charm in the shape of a book. She looks so focused, she doesn't flinch when a loose curl drops down in front of her eyes. I reach over and pin it back. She laughs and thanks me.

"How was today?" My dad asks from the opposite side of the room. He holds a pitcher of juice up, asking if I want a glass.

I nod and answer him, "It was good, actually. Long as always, but not too bad," I pull the drawstring on my bag and pull out my math textbook. "Crane wants to come with us tonight, is that okay?" I ask them.

They both say yes at the same time and I'm reminded that I'm stuck in a circle of cutesy couples.