There she is. God, she is so beautiful. I’ve loved her since the 8th grade, but she probably doesn’t even know who I am.

She’s talking to her friends. I’m not close enough to hear about what, but I’ll bet I’m not the subject of conversation.

I’m going to ask her to the dance. I’m finally going to…

She looks in my direction. I act like I’m just going to my locker. I fumble with the lock. I’m so nervous, I’m shaking. I start trying to decide what to say. “Okay,” I say to myself. “I’ll just walk over there, and say, ‘Jenn, can I ask you something?’”

From behind me, I hear, “What would you like to know?” I turn around, and she’s right there. Less than a foot away from me, a knowing little smile on her face.

“I… uh… I just… wanted to… um… I mean, if you’re… Uh… Well…”

She lays a finger on my lips. “You know, you’re cute when you trip over yourself.” She hands me a piece of paper. “My address. Pick me up at 7:00?” She turns and walks back to her friends.

I’m on cloud 9 all day.