Love, Your Secret Admirer

Chapter 9

Oh, um, thanks about the eyes.  So I’m guessing I have talked to you up close.  Well just so you know I write poetry when I’m bored but I also write it when I am feeling something really strong.  I’m like a musician.  Except the only instrument I can play is the bass and you can’t really play that alone.  So here’s a poem I wrote when I was bored.

It was the day of the big quake,

The snow is falling, falling,

Gently floats down to the ground,

Eagerly awaiting the end of its journey,

Unaware of the shaking earth awaiting it’s arrival.

-Janeen

            Since I got my car battery back I drove myself to the park and put the note in the tree.  After the note was securely in the tree I just walk back to my car, put the top down, and just sit there.  I sit there thinking about my friends and how distant I feel from them.  I think about Zach.  About Tom.  Before I knew it I was asleep.

            “Janeen.  Janeen!”

            I wake up to Tom shaking me.  I shoot straight up.  Then I get embarrassed when I remember where I am and what I was doing.

            I look up at Tom, look at my car, and then put my head on the steering wheel and start laughing. 

            “What are you doing?” Tom asks me starting to laugh.

            “Sleeping,” I mumble.

            “Well are you going to go home?”

            “Yeah, but I don’t feel like driving.  How are you getting around?”

            “I’m riding my bike.  My offer still stands.”

            “What offer?” I ask starting to sit up.

            “Remember the first day I met you on the bus?”

            I nod.

            “Remember I told you that my handle bars are open to you any time,” he says smiling.

            I nod while getting my top up.  I get out of the car and see his black bike on the side walk.  I then realize what I’m about to do.  “I can’t,” I say starting to back up.

            “Why?” Tom says looking disappointed.

            “Because,” is all I say.

            “Because,” he urges me to continue.

            “You won’t be able to carry me on that thing,” I finally say pointing to his bike.  “I’ll break it.  And I’ll break you.”

            “Janeen, you’re not fat,” Tom says laughing.

            “Yes I am,” I say, starting to get back into my car.

            “Oh come on, Janeen.  We used to do it all the time when we were kids.”

            He’s right.  I had forgotten about that.  We were eight, and my big girl teeth grew in where the missing teeth were.  And Tom learned that he needed to wear glasses.  They were blue, wire rimmed glasses.   Tom wanted to go for a bike ride.  But we were at his house and I didn’t have my bike with me.  So my eight year old self, pig tails and all, told him that.