I pushed my glasses up my nose, trying not to eavesdrop on the few conversations going on around me. Then he walks in and I bury my nose in my book, peeking over the pages at him while he jokes with his friend.
I sigh inwardly at myself and pull on my sweatshirt. I pick up my book again, listening to his loud voice yell "Sit down! Mr. Ganz says to sit down!" and giggle into my book.
I wait for the bell to ring for lunch and fall into my thoughts.
I don't know how long I've liked him. Maybe since last November. A long time, considering it's April already.
Sometimes I have stupid little daydreams, like this one:
I'm at home, daydreaming about him, when the doorbell rings. I stay where I am, knowing my mom will will get it.
"Claudia! The door's for you!" Was the opposite of what I expected her to say.
"It's a boy!" Which was the last thing I expected her to say.
I get up quickly, straightening my shirt and hair. I walk calmly to the door.
Where he is standing.
My mom is gone, so it's just the two of us.
He looks down. "I light oo."
"What?"
He looks up and clears his throat, and repeats, "I like you."
I reply "I like you too."
We hug and he asks me out on our first date and I immediately accept. We date into high school. We go to different colleges but keep close touch and meet up every Saturday for pizza at our favorite place.
Eventually, we get married and have three kids. We both get older. He'll die first, then me of a broken heart. We'll get buried side by side and live together in eternity.
But that's where it ends. I might have gotten bored and dreamed up the rest because I probably shouldn't have dreamed up our kids. Maybe we'd both die at the same time.... or me first, then him.....
DINGDING.
The bell rings and everyone flees to lunch. I wait until everyone is gone and walk by myself.
I meet up with my friends, who are all on another team (the grades are separated into two teams), and greet them cheerfully as I sit down.
I push the fact that he will never like me to the back of my mind and pull out my sandwich out of my lunchbox.
