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“Yeah, but they lost to the Phillies!” Alyssa replied.
My friend whistled. “Did you hear that, Jack?”
I was a huge Rays fan. Everyone here was. But these girls looked like they had just moved into town, so it wasn’t their fault for not understanding. I felt myself leaning toward Alyssa, eager for her to like me, so I decided to help her understand.
“Let me explain it to you, Alyssa. The Rays won the American League Pennant. The Braves didn’t even make it to the playoffs.”
“At least the Braves have won before!” the other girl said. “They won it all in 1995. The Devil Rays have never won. Which means the Braves are better.”
I argued back at her. Arguing was something I did with my brothers all the time. My mother called it brotherly love. I thought if I argued with Alyssa, maybe she would like me. But not as a brother. Something better.
Suddenly, Alyssa pushed my little brother. Reacting like any older brother would, I stepped forward and shoved her back. I wasn’t trying to hurt her—I only wanted to let her know she couldn’t mess with my brother. But Alyssa tripped and fell on her butt.
I immediately felt bad. The last thing I wanted to do was make this girl dislike me. I started to step forward to help her up, but she was glaring at me. So I did what I usually did: I teased her as a joke. The way I did with my brother when one of us went too far.
But it didn’t seem to work. Alyssa and her sister got on their bikes and left.
We went back to playing baseball, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Alyssa. She was so pretty. And I kind of liked that she shoved my brother. I had to stick up for him of course, but I liked her spirit. Most girls wouldn’t try to defend themselves like that.
When it was almost time for dinner, we rode home. That’s when I discovered something amazing: there was a moving truck in front of my neighbor’s house, the one where the old couple used to live. Alyssa and her sister were standing by the front porch. They turned to look at me, then smiled and giggled.
Maybe she does like me, I thought, that funny feeling returning to my stomach. I definitely like her, too.
I had never had a crush before. I decided that I liked it.
2010
“Psst,” I whispered in class. “Psst. Hey, Alyssa!”
Finally, my crush turned and looked over at me. We had spent the last year teasing each other and pulling pranks. She pretended that she hated me, but that was okay. I knew she secretly liked me, because that’s how I felt about her.
Holding open my textbook so the teacher wouldn’t see, I gave her the middle finger. Her lip twitched like she wanted to smile, but instead she rolled her eyes and looked away.
That was okay. I would keep trying. A few minutes later, when we lined up for recess, I poked her in the back. Our last names were close alphabetically, so I always got to stand behind her. She complained to the teacher, but she gave me a playful glare, too. That made me smile. I liked the attention she gave me, no matter how I worked to get it.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since we came back from Christmas break. It was Valentine’s Day, and I was going to make my big move. A gesture that would make us friends. And maybe, hopefully, something more.
Today, I was going to make Alyssa Ford my girlfriend.
At recess, I said hi to all my friends and then saw Alyssa and her sister sitting by themselves. Brandi seemed upset about something. I hid behind the bleachers, waiting. If Brandi was there, my plan wouldn’t work. She would laugh at me. I needed to get Alyssa alone.
Finally, Brandi got up and left. I hurried over to Alyssa and said hi. The sun made her curls really shine. I wished I could tell her that without embarrassing myself.
“If you poke me again,” Alyssa said, “I’m going to scream to the teacher. Mrs. Wallace is right over there, and she’ll believe me.”
I sat next to her and nodded toward the direction Brandi went. “She doesn’t have a valentine, does she?” I asked.
Alyssa gave me one of those playful glares. “Mind your own business.”
“You don’t have one either,” I said, with a hint of a question. I was positive she didn’t have a valentine, but it had taken me all day to work up the courage to talk to her about this. I wanted to make sure.
“I don’t need one,” she replied. “There’s nobody at this school good enough for me.”
I could be good enough for you. I hoped it was true. Alyssa was so pretty it made my throat ache.
Remembering the lines I had rehearsed, I launched into my pitch. “It’s embarrassing not having a valentine. Everyone who’s cool has one. It’s a big deal.”
“If you say so,” she said.
