Red ✔

Forgive and Forget

Where is he? Where is he? It has been five days (inculding weekend) since I saw him...okay, four and a half, but it might as well be five because he has not come to school today and there is only four hours until the end of the day bell rings. The time is ticking endlessly. I have been waiting to confess for 84 hours, 17 minutes, and...35 seconds. 39 seconds, 40 seconds, 41 seconds. Where can Clive be?

On Monday, I had this new outfit planned for the occasion. It was a cute blue dress with black tights. I borrowed my mom’s black one-inch heels from her closet. My hair was in a mature updo to tag me as a sophisticated, mature lady. It was over the top, but I really wanted Clive to be impressed. I was practically hopping to the Grade Eight line. I had this entire speech planned out on the night before. I wanted our first kiss to be perfect. I prepared different scenarios that might have happened when I told him. The future is unpredictable, so I must be ready for anything. I was definitely not ready for his absence. I did not think of that scene. It took me by surprise. I was all hyped up for a boy, who did not even show up.

On Tuesday, I thought of better sequences of events for day two. I set up a new pair of getup for my proclamation. My new attire was black, leather boots, blue, silky jeans, a long, beige scarf wrapped around my neck, and a gray turtleneck. My body was heating up from the warm outfit, but revealing my feelings to a boy like Clive made me sweat more crazily and more frequently. Once again, I had cold feet about the confession. I would think to back out of the entire thing, wondering about the change I could face doing it. I changed my mind a lot with big decisions and this was one of my big decisions. However, I did not catch Clive anywhere on school property. At 3:30 p.m. bell, I was thinking of going to his house to tell him. The idea was not too convincing to me, so I chose to chicken out.

On Wednesday, today, I did not want to wear the same thing as the days before, or it will look like I do not wash my clothes, which I do. Therefore, I am on Perfect Outfit #3. I think Perfect Outfit #2 was too cheesy. This time, I want to be more casual. My ensemble has to say, “Fancy but not trying too hard, interested but not too desperate, and cool but not out of this world.” Girl logic is a pain in the butt, but what am I going to do about it? On my hands, I am wearing black, lacey, fingerless gloves. On my ears, there are pink jewel earrings. They bring out the wideness of my ears, which are one of my best features. My wrists have three bangles on my left hand. My pink jeans and short-sleeved black V-neck finalize the perfect gear. Nicole and Holly have complimented my outfit on the bus. My feet were shaking as we neared closer and closer to the school. I tried to look out to see if Clive was in sight. He was not outside of the school or inside. When we got to class, he was absent for the third time in a row. Teacher said, “I guess he is sick.”

Nicole sees the sad look on my face and pats me on the back. “It is going to be okay. It is not the end of the world.”

I mumble, “It sure feels like it.”

“Clive will come back. He is probably sick or on vacation."

"Vacation after sending me his diary?” I demand.

“Shh!” Ms. Montgomery shushes.

“Sorry!” Nicole says and turns back to me. “He probably could not send it to you himself because he was sick.”

“You could be right,” I admit.

“Aren’t I always?” she whispers.

I stare back at the clock, watching another minute passing by. Patience is not one of my strong traits. I cannot wait in line for roller coasters, though I love them. It is too much of a hassle for me. My impatience brings me down. I am tapping my foot and drumming my fingers against the fences blocking us from reaching my ride. I get my friends to wait in line for me as I ride the rollar coasters with smaller lines, such as merry-go-round or slushy carts. Even the BeaverTails have long line ups.