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“Yeah, yeah. So, are you excited about the game tonight?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
The fuming seemed to subside and he leaned back in his desk.
“Yeah, coach said he won’t be putting Farley in after all. Can you believe it? Doc says his knee doesn’t look one hundred percent. Farley said he could play with no problem but coach doesn’t want to risk it the first game.”
Whew, I thought, barely listening. So annoying. Too bad he’s so loyal.
Coach started the movie and Jesse finally shut his blubber mouth. I wrapped my ankles around the legs of my desk and tipped my chair back. I wrapped my fingers around the back of my head and stared at the ceiling, just thinking. What in the world was that? She was so quick to pull away. Let’s see. I definitely felt distraction. Then she slid her hand to the back of my neck. That was awesome. Must have her do that again. It was a warm feeling that turned blazing hot. Tasted like what I would think my mom’s Egyptian Cotton candle would taste like. If I didn’t know any better I..........I let my chair fall hard back to the ground in sudden realization. I swallowed hard. She loves me. She’s in love with me. I haven’t even taken her on a proper date yet! Haven’t even kissed her! Yet, she loves me!
My breath trapped in my throat and I almost began to hyperventilate. I planted my hands on the desk in front of me to anchor myself from falling over from the sheer shock of it. Shock. Shock and happiness? Why doesn’t this scare me? Shouldn’t I feel like running the opposite direction from her or something? I mean, yeah, so I’ve known her my whole life and all but do I really know know her? I thought about it for a moment. Yes, I do.
She’s the Julia Jacobs who forced me to suffer my mother’s wrath by arriving late to dinner one summer night of our fifth grade year because I had to help her rescue the feral kittens underneath Mr. Westburg’s wood porch. She’s the Julia Jacobs who helped me fix the flat in my bike’s tire so I wouldn’t get in trouble for riding near the construction site I was forbidden to go near off Main. She’s the Julia Jacobs who used to sing ‘American Pie’ at the top of her lungs with me at the pool in seventh grade and made me laugh so hard grape soda went up my nose. She’s the Julia Jacobs who would weave fantastic tales of adventure over a gleaming flashlight when we used to camp by the creek.
That girl was colorfully, gorgeously, brilliantly, and astonishingly in love with me. I felt it. That’s exactly what it was. The taste of it was remarkably similar to greatness. No, it beat greatness, to a bloody pulp. My heart inflated like a balloon, doubling, tripling in size with each beat when she revealed it to me, like a massive kick drum. Thump, thump, thump. It sang to me and was the sweetest melody that had ever touched my ears. It was beyond words, impossible to put into words. It was something that needed to be touched, heard, smelled, tasted to grasp its full meaning and I knew. I knew that it was mine only. It was a flavor only I could taste and smell, a feeling only my fingers could touch, and a song only I was meant to hear.
Unexpectedly, a choir of angels sounded. It dawned on me. It was a feeling I sincerely shared. She probably knew it too. I know she must have felt it as well. Now that I knew what the love she held for me tasted like it was suddenly easy to recognize my own distinct flavor I had for her and boy was it ever the dominant current. I had sent it streaming through my fingers to hers every single time I’d touched her. She must have gotten a private kick out of my revealing more than I had intended. I was a fool, an unbelievably happy fool.
“Hey Jules,” I said calmly, when I finally sat next to her in English.
I couldn’t let her touch me or look into my eyes or I’d give it away. I suppressed the feeling as much as possible so she couldn’t read any radiations of it either.
“Hi darlin’.”
She tried to act as casual as possible but even without our gift I could see through her cool facade.
“Hey Jules?” I said seriously, turning my body toward hers, resting my elbows on the desk and chair.
“Yes Elliott?” She said, her head buried in ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’.
“I think I figured it out,” I said, and paused for a really long time, letting her sweat it out.
She kept her nose buried but her eyes began to look for mine. She was worried.
“Hmm?” Her voice cracked, her eyes resettling on the wrong page.
“I said, I think I figured out the theme I am going to write about for Mrs. Kitt’s book report due next month.”
“Oh,” she swallowed hard. “I think I’ve got a theme too. What are you going to write about?”
“Oh no. I can’t say. I wouldn’t feel right showing it to you. It’s too soon to reveal such intimate things to one another. Don’t you think?”
“Okay?” She said, furrowing her eyebrows. “You don’t have to. I guess.”
She raised her beautiful nose from George Orwell and turned her body toward mine.
“Why are you acting so weird?” She asked, suspicious.
Mrs. Kitt saved me from revealing too much when she began class.
As we walked to lunch, I grabbed Jules’ hand and revealed a little secret of my own but didn’t let on that I knew that she knew.
“What do you say I take you on a proper date tomorrow Jules?”
“Sh, sure babe.”
She swallowed hard from the reveal, but kept her mouth shut.
“Where?” She asked.
