Young Blood

Chapter Eleven

 Getting ready for school on Monday was wonderful. I never thought I’d hear those words coming from my lips, but for once, Monday wasn’t painful to me. I stared at myself longer than I’d like to admit in the mirror, making sure every little imperfection of my facial features was smoothed out and gone. My hair had to be perfectly in place, and I even plucked my eyebrows to get rid of that dreadful unibrow. I was going to look perfect for Ritchie.

  I snagged another tight-fitting shirt of Paul’s and put on one of his nicer sports jackets over that, making sure that everything about myself looked as best as it could. For once I smiled at my reflection, confident in how I looked. I realized that it didn’t matter how I appeared to the world because Ritchie loved me no matter what.

  I grabbed an apple for the road and began the short walk to school. I wouldn’t see Ritchie until the end of the day, but I knew that that just meant I could spend all day looking forward to see him. I laughed to myself, thinking of how just last Monday I had first laid eyes on him, thinking that I would love to make him mine. And now he was.

  I finished my apple and threw the core in the wastebasket with perfection, smiling brightly to myself. Everything was going fantastically today. I felt on top of the world, like I could do anything. I guess people are right when they say that being in love changes you. All those singers were right, too, when they sing about love as if it were the strongest force in the world. Love was incredible.

  I strolled into the hallway, not even minding as several larger students bumped into me and nearly shoved me against the lockers. People were giving me weird looks, but I didn’t care. I was in love, so why should anything else matter?

  I suffered through my first period class with my mind somewhere else. I was doodling in my notebook the entire class, drawing little swirly hearts and designs. I didn’t even care that I was acting incredibly feminine when I added Ritchie’s name into hearts. I loved Ritchie, and there was no reason I should feel ashamed because I was drawing his name. 

  I tried my best not to be embarrassed as I bumped into Pete after class and he sent my notebook tumbling. He was actually polite enough to pick it up, but he was staring at it for what felt like an awful long time. It had opened onto a page of doodles when it fell, but Pete closed it before I could see what he was looking at. I prayed he hadn’t seen my confessions about Ritchie.

  I had never liked Pete Best. He was a stuck-up man, always acting like he had more money than he really did. His mother spoiled him, buying him endless presents even when it wasn’t a holiday ‘just because.’ He was a teacher’s pet, but was incredibly stubborn. It was people like him that made me wish I hadn’t gone to college.

  I gathered my things and stormed off into the opposite direction. So much for a good mood. I had to suffer through several other classes until the end of the day finally stretched around and I had Ritchie’s class. I couldn’t even contain the wide grin that appeared on my face as my eyes met his, and he smiled back at me. I felt filled with a warm emotion that I had no name for other than pure love. I loved Ritchie, and now I could feel that very love pulsating through my veins. 

  As class began I felt a different kind of feeling from what typically went on in Ritchie’s class. Normally he and I had a connection, our eyes meeting from across the room and sending sparks down my spine. But today, I felt different. I guess because Ritchie and I had been through so much over the weekend we were at an even deeper level with each other. It was strange, though, because I felt like my personal spade was being waded in by others that weren’t either myself or Ritchie. I felt like I was being watched.

  “This week we’re going to be learning a little bit more about Shakespeare.”

  Almost the entire class groaned. Shakespeare was a dreaded topic, one that no one in my class actually liked to read. Not even the suck-ups like Jane or Pete could care less about him or his works. We had spent the last week on Romeo and Juliet, and I only prayed that Ritchie would quit picking works that reflected our relationship.