Tummy Flutters | ✓

COME.

"I'm sorry," Peter blurted, suddenly breaking the silence that descended upon them after such a serendipitous moment.

"For what?" Catherine asked.

Peter smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. In the short time that they spent together, Catherine had taken note that he always scratched the back of his neck whenever he felt nervous or self-conscious.

"I–" Peter avoided her eyes. He couldn't seem to meet her eyes, feeling ashamed of all the times he said unkind words and made her sad. If his father could see him now, he would be disappointed because he always said that avoiding the other's eyes while apologizing showed a lack of courage.

"It's ok," Catherine told him, her fingers momentarily brushing his before she tucked them in her pockets.

This time, Peter met her eyes. He decided that he'd been a scaredy cat for too long. Now was the perfect time to be brave like his Dad. Or the superheroes that he read about in his comics. He looked at Catherine straight in the eye and said, "I'm sorry for all those times I was mean to you. When I called you ugly, tugged your braids in class, or made fun of your drawings."

Catherine pursed her lips, remembering all those times that she got even with him. After a while, she said, "Well, then. I guess I'll also have to say sorry."

"Um, I knew how particular you are about following the colors of the rainbow, so I kinda rearranged your crayons when you were out for recess. Also, I was the one who drew happy faces on all your notebooks."

"That was you?" he asked. "You did all those?"

Catherine couldn't help but reply, "I just told you, didn't I?"

"Wow," he only said.

"Yeah," she whispered, feeling as equally guilty as relieved.

Neither one of them knew what to do about the sudden turn of events, so they lapsed into awkward silence once again. Peter was overlooking at the distance as if in deep thought, while Catherine was shifting in her seat not knowing what to do. She was wiggling her toes inside her shoes, when she was struck with a light bulb moment.

She extended her arms towards him, as if to shake hands with him.

"What's this about?" Peter asked.

"Let's start over," she told him with a smile, "Hi. I'm Catherine, but you can call me Cathy."

"I know that already."

Catherine sighed exasperatedly. Had he not yet seen this moment transpire in any books or movies? "I know that you know. But, we're pretending that we lost our memories from ... from bumping our heads inside the cupboard, so that we can start all over."

Peter grinned, completely enthralled with the idea of beginning again. "Ooohh, I like this! Okay, can we do it again?"

"Hi, I'm Catherine," she said, extending her arms once again, "but you can call me Cathy." There were those words again, Peter thought, thoughtlessly making his heart flutter again.

"I'm Peter," he replied, taking her hand in his. "Just Peter."

After that, they talked and talked and talked, seeming as though they would never run out of things to say. Catherine had told him stuff that she never told anybody before, and Peter discovered stuff that only made her even more endearing to him.

Both thought that only a few hours had passed, but in reality, the whole day had actually passed by without them even knowing it. It was already at that hour when parents called their children for dinner, breaking up tea parties, hide-and-seek games, and in-depth conversations.

Catherine heard her name being called, much to Peter's dismay. He needed to know more: her favorite color, food, and animal – every little thing about her. He wanted to find out if it was possible for Catherine to be even more endearing than he thought she already was.

"In a minute!" Catherine called back, standing up to dust the dirt off of her dress. When she was done, she looked down at Peter and shoved him lightly, saying, "Hey, you never told me who you had a crush on."

"Hey," he replied, shoving her back, "you're about to leave. Your older sister's here."

Catherine pouted. "Ugh, fine. If you don't want to tell me, at least tell me three things about her. Give me some clues, so I know who she is."

Peter agreed, but he didn't know the right words to say without being too ambiguous or revealing too much. And how could he even begin to describe Catherine? Just thinking about it was enough for the back of his neck turning to the faintest shade of red and spreading to his cheeks.

"Today, Peter."

"Okay, um ... she wears yellow on Fridays." Peter looked at her reaction, but there wasn't any – she only nodded at him. Anyone can wear yellow on Fridays, she thought.

"Two, she says stuff like 'particular' and 'comforting' – words that no second grader uses in a sentence yet," he continued, "Three, she's the best at finding hiding places. And ... every time I see her, I get tummy flutters." Again, he looked up at Catherine, whose eyes were wandering around this time, but not even once did they meet his steady gaze.

Did she know who it is already?

A few beats have passed and no one had said a single word.

Is he talking about me? she thought. Catherine wasn't so sure about it, but she felt something like a flutter inside her tummy.

"Oh," she said, deliberately ignoring that one flutter, "would you look at the time? It's ..." she looked at her wrist, only to find that she wasn't wearing her watch today, "... getting late!"

"Right," Peter replied, nodding slowly.

"Thank you," she told him, "for today, P-Pe..." she couldn't say the last syllable to his name, terrified that doing so would only multiply the flutters in her tummy. Instead, she only said, "P-please take care of yourself when you go home."

Catherine ran towards her older sister as quickly as possible. Then, she tugged at the hem of her shirt. "Isla, I think I'm going to be sick. I'm getting tummy flutters, and I feel warm all of a sudden."

Isla bent down to her younger sister's level. "Lemme check," she checked her forehead, "my diagnosis is you have a crush, little sister. It's nothing serious, but you'll be showing symptoms of flushed cheeks, increased heart rate, and tummy flutters."

Her younger sister's eyes widened.

"I'm guessing ... it's his fault," Isla motioned at Peter, who smiled widely and waved at the both of them. Catherine felt her cheeks burning up, her heart matching the beat of the pop song playing from her sister's headphones, and the fluttering in her tummy getting stronger.

Catherine did like Peter Romano. And no one, not even she – the best hider in hide-and-seek – could find a hiding place for this crush.  

fin.