I’m trying to make my way down the corrider after the final bell, squeezed in by a bottleneck of people trying to shove their way through. Two kids stop right in front of me, blocking up the already crowded hall, to swap handshakes. I contemplate throwing my bag at them, but manage to squeeze my way through without resorting to physical violence.

I’m opening my locker when I see her walking towards me. I pretend to be incredibly interested in my pre-calculus book, but in actuality am marveling at her simple beauty; even in a jacket and jeans, she just glows.

As she gets closer, my heart beats faster.

And suddenly I can’t even say anything to her, the way I had planned. Can’t say “Hello.” Can’t even manage a simple “Hi.” I feel like I’ve swallowed a handful of cotton balls.

She just does that to me.

As she passes by, a smile lights up her entire face. “Hey!” she says to me in a surprised kind of way, stressing the word so that it sounds like “He-ay!”

But, to me, it sounds like music.