So we talk, about me, about the girl i want to go with, and about the girl who wants to go with me. I hold the multicolored note limply in my hand and smile at my situation which has begun to look dismal.
Meanwhile, my friends, between scoops of salsa into their mouths on the nacho chips, plan my day. They say things like,
“If you don’t want to go with her (< stalker) then just polietly tell her you’d rather not!”
“Hey, i have a friend whos really good at hooking people up. You want me to call her?
And then, one of my friends, who had been quiet the entire time spoke up.
“You have to ask $&#($#@ tomarrow…”
This was met with my surprise, and horror, as the rest of the table began gasping and saying “Yep, you’ll ask the her (< the girl i like) tomarrow!”
Every time i see any of my friends they say, “ask her!” as i move through the halls avoiding my stalker who still awaits my reply.
Last class, band, i sit nervously next to her. the bells rings. I ask…....