That time she called her manager.

With senior year starting in a few weeks, I’m not taking any chances this time. I will get her to talk to me. Even if we don’t end up working out, fine, but I have to see what could possibly happen.  I’ve never had a crush on a girl for this long and I’ve never had to work so hard just to get someone to say a basic hello.

After the team’s first weight training practice in the school’s gym, I stay behind and pretend like I have muscle cramps that I need to walk off for a while. When I’m sure no one is following me out to the hallway, I find Mia’s locker: 345. She’s literally the only girl at school I know that makes use of Central High’s year-round locker perk.

I take out the list of digital locker codes I got from the school’s secretary (She has an unfortunate crush on me, despite the fact that me and her son are the same age), and find Mia’s code: 34-87-45.

The door pops open and I find myself faced with one of the most organized interiors of a locker I’ve ever seen. She has hooks on the door that she uses for extra pens and pencils, her paintbrushes are organized by height and color, and a lot of her personal reading books are similar to mine.

I pick up her copy of Macbeth and wonder if she actually enjoyed it or if she only read it because it was a requirement last year. I notice that her schedule for the upcoming semester has been slightly altered—as if she’s purposely gotten out of the classes I signed up for, so I take a picture of it so I can get placed back into her new ones.

Amateur...

I flip through her notebooks and notice there’s one that says, “Physics Summer Studies 2004”

She completed all of the summer assignments already?

I tuck the notebook under my arm, just in case I actually have to keep it, and then I flip through the few CDs she has, hoping we have something in common.

We do not.

We definitely do not.

I haven’t heard of any of these bands, and just from the way their album covers look I doubt any of them are something I’d listen to at all. Nonetheless, I pull out my phone and type in the name of the first band into Myspace and give them a try.

I get fifteen seconds in before I have to stop.

Fuck no...

I try the next few and end with the same results. Feeling slightly defeated, I take pictures of the albums and decide to give them another chance later. Maybe her terrible taste in music will grow on me.

I glean her locker for a few last bits of information, noticing that she has a red pin that reads, “President of Central High’s Art Club” hanging proudly from a hook.

Since when do we have an art club?

Before closing her locker, I take the pin and stuff it into my bag; I’ll bring it back later.

***

During the first week of school, everything seems to be going just like the years before. The school spirit is at an all-time high because our team is ranked number one in the state before the season even begins. The freshmen and sophomore girls are treating me like some type of god (Not that I mind that at all) and Mia Gray is sitting right across from me in Physics class and acting like I don’t exist.

“Mia?” I clear my throat. “Mia?”

She turns to face me with her eyebrow raised, and I lose track of what I was going to say. The way she looks today is catching me completely off-guard.

Jesus, she’s gorgeous...

“Yes, Mr. Collins?” she asks, pursing her pouty pink lips.

“Hey...” I honestly can’t think of shit else to say. “What’s up?”

“Unbelievable.” She stands up, and I think she’s about to switch seats, but the teacher is actually asking her to make some type of announcement.

“Um, hey everyone,” she says softly.

“Everyone, quiet!” The teacher says louder and the room goes silent. “One of the people who’s actually going to do something with her life after graduation is trying to speak to you right now.”

Mia’s cheeks turn pink. “I think I left my black notebook in here earlier this week so if anyone has seen it, I’d greatly appreciate it if you return it to me before we take our first test over the summer assignments in a few weeks.” She blushes again. “Thank you.”

She returns to her seat next to me and I smile at her.

She scowls at me and turns around.

Just for that, I’m keeping this shit for another two weeks...

I try to give her the notebook one last time when class ends—granted, my words still aren’t as smooth as they usually are, but at least she manages to finally give me the “Please stop talking to me.” And then I realize getting a chance with Mia Gray is going to be a lot harder than I originally thought...

Chapter 33

DEAN

Ten years ago...

Small Town, USA

2004

I spend all night listening to all of the terrible indie bands Mia likes, rolling my eyes at every song, but around midnight, I have to admit that I start to enjoy them. So much so that I burn a CD and put it in my car to listen to later.

I’ve already decided how I will approach her again. It’ll have to be whenever she’s alone and can’t slip away into a crowd, but I need to figure out a way to get her to keep talking to me since I don’t think a one-time conversation with her will get me anywhere; she seems completely resistant to me for some reason.

The perfect solution doesn’t hit me until the next day in English class, my best subject.

Instead of writing the hell out of the essay assignment that’s due that week, I purposely half-ass each one. That’s all the time is takes for the teacher to notice because on Friday, she pulls me to the side at the end of class.

“Mr. Collins,” she says, “As entertaining as your recent ramblings on ‘Why Is This Girl So Difficult With Me’ are, they have nothing to do with Beowulf.”

“They don’t?” I smile.

“No, they don’t.” She shakes her head at me. “Do you not care about getting your first slew of C’s in your high school career?”

“Cs?” I cross my arms. “I need at least a D to make this thing convincing. How do I get one of those?”

“Keep turning in the crap you’ve been writing lately.” She pats my shoulder. “I’m not sure what the hell you’re doing, but you do plan on bringing it back up to an A and keeping my hope in your generation alive, correct?”

“Definitely.” I walk past her and head straight to “art club” so I can finally give Mia her notebook back.

I head down the hallway on the east side of the school and peer into all of the empty classrooms. She never seems to pick the same room twice for some reason.

When I get to the end of the hall, I finally see her.

Dressed simply today in jeans and a black T-shirt, she’s deep into whatever she’s painting, and when I walk inside the room she doesn’t even look up.

As a matter of fact, it takes her fifteen minutes to notice me.

“Yes?” She looks up from her canvas and stares at me from across the classroom. “May I help you with something, Dean? You’re not in the art club.”

“I’m aware.” I smirk, looking around the empty classroom. “But it doesn’t look like anyone is in art club...”

She rolls her eyes and sets down her paintbrush. “We’re currently accepting applications for membership,” she says. “What can I help you with?”

“You know, I did come here for something.” I shut door. “But, now that you claim that you’re accepting applications for your club, can I fill one out?”

“We don’t accept douchebags. Your application wouldn’t make it past round one.”

“Douchebag?” And is she blushing right now?

“Yes, douchebag. Would you like me to give you the definition?”

“I’m well versed on the definition, Mia Gray.” I stare at her for a while, still trying to figure out if the red in her cheeks is blushing or anger.