“What the hell are you talking about?”  

I’m standing dead still in the hallway. Kids are streaming past us. Jack Ripley rams right into me, but I barely notice.  

“Um?” Kat mutters. “Do you, um, want to go somewhere? Get coffee? And talk?”  

Everything is a question.  

“Mick?”  

I look up. Run my hand through my hair. I can’t think in full sentences right now. “Huh?”  

“Coffee?”  

“Uh. I have basketball practice.”  

This whole conversation feels like an out of body experience. I feel like I’m watching a movie, laughing at the douche bag who got himself into this mess. But I can’t laugh, because this isn’t a movie, and that douche bag is me.  

“Mick.”  

I can’t look at Kat’s face when she says my name.  

“I told you,” my voice comes out garbled. I don’t sound like myself. “I have practice.”  

“Okay.” Her face falls and all I see out of the corner of my eye is a curtain of long brunette hair.  

She starts walking away. I feel like crying.  

“Wait! Kat!”  

She turns around, and I can’t look away quickly enough. Her beautiful navy eyes meet mine. They are cold and hard. Unseeing, as if she is looking right through me. I can’t look at her. I lower my gaze to my scuffed shoes.  

“I’ll come over after practice, okay?” I mutter.  

“Okay,” she responds so stiffly its painful. Then she turns quickly and walks away, her sandals clicking on the linoleum floor. I watch her go, feeling the tears in my eyes. I wipe them away quickly as Jared and Owen come bounding down the hallway towards me.  

“Hey man, you coming?” Jared asks, clapping me on the shoulder.  

“You’re not even changed – Coach is gonna be pissed,” Owen adds.  

“No, I don’t think so,” I mutter. “I feel kind of sick.”  

“Aw, Mick, you gotta come, man,” Owen complains.  

“We’re scrimmaging today; we’ll lose without you,” Jared explains.  

I shove Jared’s hand off of my shoulder and walk away.  

“What’s up with him?” I hear Owen grumble as I push open the doors and walk out into the crisp February air.  

I’m not controlling my legs, but they’re taking me somewhere and I can’t do anything to stop them. They walk me down the hill and off the Grove High School campus. They turn on Mayfield Road and veer right towards the Madison Elementary playground. A few kids chase each other around the handball court, but it is mostly vacant. My legs lead me to the swings and I sit down on one and kick the sand.  

I can’t remember the last time I swung on this swing. I must have been about eight years old. Owen and I would come to this corner of the playground every day at recess, far away from where everyone else was, and discuss which girls we thought were hot. Jared wasn’t in the picture then. He didn’t move to Elmwood until seventh grade.  

Jessica Martin was always at the top of Owen’s list back then. She had long, white blonde hair that she wore loose, while other girls wore theirs in ponytails, and it flew behind her when she ran away from you during a game of tag. She was probably the prettiest girl in the third grade, but also the meanest. She and Owen have been going out since sophomore year. Figures.  

I can’t remember who was at the top of my list. All I know is that Kat Gregorian wasn’t even close.  

Kat and I have gone to school together since kindergarten, but I hadn’t spoken more than two words to her until May of junior year. We were in the same AP Law class. She was one of those kids who had all of her note cards color coded and was always asking ‘what if’ questions. I was one of those kids who sat in the back, propped a notebook up in front of my face, and slept, wondering how I’d even gotten into an AP class. I remember the first conversation I had with Kat. It was late May, and I was behind her as we filed out the door.  

I said, “Hey, Kathleen?”  

And she turned back and looked at me quizzically, probably wondering why I was talking to her. That was the first time I noticed her wide, navy eyes – they made her look very innocent. That was the first time I thought she was beautiful.  

Kat isn’t one of those girls that walk by and leave the guys staring. She’s tall, and really thin, like she was stretched out when she grew. She’s got really long, dark brown hair and very pale skin. She wears shirts and jeans. Nothing like Jessica Martin. But those eyes.  

I think I was staring, because she was giving me a weird look. Finally, she said, “Yeah, Michael?”  

Automatically, I responded. “Its Mick, Kathleen.”  

Without missing a beat, she said, “It’s Kat, Mick.”  

And I smiled at that, and said, “Hey, Kat?”  

And she said, “Yeah, Mick?”  

And I said, “That argument you made today about animal testing was pretty powerful.” Because it was true. She was a great speaker. She’d probably be a lawyer someday.  

And she said, “Thanks. I’m pretty passionate about animal rights.”  

And I said, “Cool.”  

And she said, “See you around, Mick.”  

And I said, “See you around, Kat.”  

And I didn’t talk to her again for another two months. But those navy eyes made their way into my dreams every night.  

Flash forward to July. Jared’s cousin had flown to some far away country for a non mutual relative’s wedding, and Jared, Owen, and I had driven four hours out to the Jersey shore and stayed at her house for the weekend. We were prepared for some major Sea-Dooing and some hot chicks to throw themselves at our bare chested selves, muscles taut from three basketball camp hell weeks.  

We were only out on the beach for fifteen minutes and Owen already had two blonde-from-a-box, busty girls draped from his arms. Jared and I left them be and took a walk down to the boardwalk to buy about eight hot dogs each.  

Owen is the kind of guy that most girls fantasize about. Broad shouldered, big muscles, six pack. Longish, light brown hair that is constantly falling into his eyes, forcing him to do that thing where he flips his hair back, which girls love. His eyes are blue, that’s all I know, though some girls would probably describe them as ‘deep turquoise pools.’ I don’t know. All I know is that they’ve got nothing on Kat’s.  

Jared, on the other hand, has dark skin and thick black hair. He’s pretty average. I’m nothing to scream at, either. I’ve got dirty blond hair and brown eyes, and I’m a little too skinny for my liking. I envy guys like Owen who can do fifteen chin ups and develop muscles so big you’d think they’re using Botox. Knowing Owen, he probably is.  

Jared and I reached the boardwalk, and we started our walk back up the beach, hot dogs in hand. About halfway back, Jared stopped.  

“Damn,” he said.  

I looked around. We’d stopped in front of a surfing school. Little kids with surfboards too big for them crashed into the waves while parents snapped pictures from the sand. I followed Jared’s gaze to a tall girl who’s dark hair was swept up in a messy bun. She wore gray shorts with the school’s logo on them, and a navy bikini top. When she turned around, I saw that the bathing suit matched her eyes perfectly.  

“Kat!” I waved.  

NOTE: this is a work in progress. Not really sure where to go from here; critique would be great:)  

-Mechi