Part 4 (1/2)

”Only next time, you oughta break the cinder block with your forehead,” said Rick. Rick had a big cheerful face, dark brown, the color of chocolate. He was one of the tallest guys at school. Tall and so thin, he looked like a big wind would bend him double. But he was actually strong and quick and was one of the best players on the school's basketball team, the Dragons.

”Oh, that would be so cool,” said Miler. He drove his head down toward his macaroni tray and made a cras.h.i.+ng noise. Miler was a small guy, lean and compact, with short blond hair and a kind of long face with sharp green eyes. I always thought Miler ought to have a little sign on his forehead that said, ”I am going to be a corporate lawyer one day and make a gazillion dollars.” It was one of those things you could tell just by looking at him.

”Or wouldn't it be cool if, like, you drove your head into a cinder block and it didn't work?” said Josh.

”Hey, thanks a lot,” I said.

But Rick laughed. ”Yeah. What if you just, like, drove your head into the block and it went, like, splosh, you know, and there'd be, like, brains and blood everywhere.”

”Yeah!” said Miler, laughing. ”And Mr. Woodman would say, *Hmm, well, Harley-Charlie, I guess you'll have to practice that move a little more.'”

”Harley-Charlie,” said Josh with his trademark snicker. ”I loved that. That killed me. What do you say from now on we just call you Harley-Charlie all the time?”

”Hey, Josh,” I said. ”You remember what happened to that cinder block when I punched it?”

”Yeah.”

”Well, what do you say, from now on, you don't call me Harley-Charlie at all?”

”Whoa!” said Rick, and he gave me a high five.

Josh snickered into his ham-and-cheese sandwich.

”You know what else would be cool?” said Miler Miles. We all turned to him to find out. But we never did. Because he didn't say anything else. He just sat there, kind of staring into s.p.a.ce.

”Well?” said Josh. He snickered some more. ”He's, like, you know what would be cool, and we're, like, what, and he's, like, just sitting there . . .”

Somewhere during Josh's vivid recap of events, it occurred to me that Miler wasn't just staring into s.p.a.ce. He was actually staring at something. Or someone. So I turned around to see what it was.

What it was was Beth Summers.

She had come up right behind me. She was just standing therea”I guess she was waiting for a chance to get my attention. She had her purse over one shoulder and her books in her other hand as if she was on her way somewhere else. Which made sense, because she didn't usually have lunch the same period as me.

”Beth!” I blurted out, surprised. I stood up. I'm not sure why I stood upa”I just did. I stood up and twisted around out of my chair and faced her.

The guysa”Josh and Rick and Milera”all sort of sat there staring up at the two of us, Josh with the words dying on his lips, Rick and Miler with their lips sort of parted. They looked about as stunned as the people in New York City when they looked up and saw King Kong for the first time. It wasn't that Beth was too good or too stuck-up to talk to me or anything. She wasn't like that, not at all. And it wasn't that I was the least popular guy in school either. That would officially be Al Dokler. It was just that she was Beth and I was me, and if I'd told one of these guys she was going to come over to my lunch table to talk to me, he would've said, ”Yeah, only in your dreams,” and I would've thought, Yeaha”he's right. Only in my dreams.

But here she was. And there was no point just standing there, staring at her like an idiot. So instead I stood there and stared at her like an idiot and said, ”Hi, Beth. What's going on?”

”I just wanted to tell you how cool your thing in a.s.sembly was today,” she said. And there was that whole nice, warm business I was talking about. The way she said it, as if no one's thing in a.s.sembly had ever been cool before.

”Thanks,” I said.

”When you came down on that block? When I saw what you were going to do, I was, like, oh my goodness, he's gonna kill himself, like, break his hand into a hundred pieces. Then, when you actually broke through the block like that, I was, like, so, so relieved.” She really sounded like she was so, so relieved too. So, so worried about me, and so, so relieved. It was nice.

”Thanks,” I said again. I was really pus.h.i.+ng the conversational envelope here.

”Anyway, it was cool. It was really cool,” she said.

And guess what I said? ”Thanks.”

Then she stood there for another second, as if there was something else I was supposed to say. I felt like there was something else I was supposed to say, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of what it might be. I didn't want to say thanks again, and I couldn't figure out anything else, so I just did the whole stand-and-stare-like-an-idiot routine again.

Finally Beth raised her free hand and gave that little metronome wave girls givea”ticktock, ticktocka”and said, ”Well . . . I just wanted to tell you that. I'll see you around, okay?”

”Okay,” I said. At least it wasn't ”Thanks.” Then I did some more idiotic standing and staring.

With a smile that registered approximately a 9.5 on the Sweetness Scale, Beth turned and started walking away from me, walking toward the cafeteria door.

”Hey, Beth?” I said. I didn't mean to say it. I didn't even know I was going to say it until I heard the words coming out of my mouth. But somehow I couldn't just let her walk away like that.

Beth stopped at the door. She turned back to me, waiting expectantly. She'd moved far enough away so that I had to take a few steps after her to catch up. That was good with me. It got me away from my table, from the staring eyes and flummoxed expressions of Josh and Miler and Rick.

I came up to stand in front of Beth again. I had that feeling again that there was something I was supposed to say, something she was waiting for. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I just stood there with my mouth open for what seemed like about half an hour.

Finally, Beth laugheda”not in a mean way, just in a kind of what's-going-on way. ”You forget what you wanted to say?” she asked me.

”No. No, I didn't forget,” I said. ”I just . . . I wanted to say . . . It's just . . . it's just I really like you, Beth.”

I couldn't believe I said that. I just blurted it right out. I felt like such an incredible idiot.

But Beth didn't laugh at me or anything. She just kind of opened her eyes wider and looked really surprised. ”Oh,” she said. ”Well, thank you . . .”

I stumbled on quickly, without thinking, because I didn't want there to be any more stupid silences. ”The thing is: it makes me really nervous when I talk to you.”

She looked even more surprised. ”It does?”

”Yeah!” I said. I laughed. It was actually kind of a relief to just say it out loud like that. It was a relief not to try to hide it or to pretend to be cool with her. ”I get, like, really nervous. I feel like my tongue is superglued to the top of my mouth.”

”Agh, I hate when that happens.”

”No kidding. I really gotta stop messing with that stuff.”

She laughed. She had a nice laugh. ”Well, I'm glad you like me anyway,” she said. ”I like you too.” She actually said that. I swear I'm not making this up.

”Really?” I said. ”Cool. So you want to, like, go see a movie together or something?”

It was that easy in the end. Suddenly I'd just said it. Suddenly it was just out there.

And just as suddenly, Beth said, ”Sure, that'd be fun. Only nothing scary. I hate scary movies.”

”Me too,” I said. I don't know why I said that. I love scary movies. It just came out because I guess I wanted to make sure she went on liking me.

”My mom doesn't let me go to them anyway,” said Beth. ”She says they're disgusting.”