Ficlets

I sat behind her in Chemistry. I had just moved, and was none to happy to be there.

She was quiet, with large round glasses, big blue eyes. when she was thinking about something, she twirled her hair and cocked an eyebrow like Mr. Spock. I liked her immediately. After tests on Fridays, she wrote poetry about vampires, and I drew pictures of dragons. I once found one of her poems on the floor after class, and knew I had my opening. What? Of course I’d never talked to her. I was the new kid, chubby and weird, from up north with a weird accent and oh so unhappy about being there. No one talked to me.

The next day in class, I made sure I was there before her. When she came in and sat down, I smiled and said, “I found your poem the other day… I thought you’d want it back. It’s really good,” and handed it to her. She blushed (it was high-school-never-been-kissed erotic), then smiled as she looked at the floor. Her hair fell from behind her ear and covered half her face.

I drew vampires, roses and was in love.