Mistakes

I walked into her on the way to my locker one morning.

That was my first mistake. I made many that day.

Books scattered across the concrete, papers flung out, churned beneath the mass of moving feet.

I got a look. You know, that look. The one that says "And who the hell do you think you are?" and makes you feel so awkward. Yeah, it was bad.

I made my second mistake attempting to sit near her in class. Edging to a seat away from my regular position, my friends glances seeming perturbed and confused. Then she entered, I stared and they knew. My ears burned, as ears do, and I hastily retreated, to the mockery of my friends.

Third mistake, trying to prove myself intelligent and sophisticated. A quote in Greekfrom my English teacher, which I mistook for Latin, and called out as meaning something entirely wrong - the shame. I had no idea what it really was, but it sounded like veni vidi vici to me.

She laughed at me. I consoled myself that at least I had been noticed, and resolved to try again later.

Fourth mistake, waiting. I thought, give her some time, she's new, let her settle in, get to know me, then make my move. It took all of two weeks for someone else to ask her out. She said yes, smiling that beacon of joy that stabbed into my heart. My knuckles bled from hitting the brick wall.

It got worse, I waited again after they split. A bit of space while she grieves, don't be a rebound, and - damn, now she's forgotten who I am. I say hi, and she asks if she knows me, that I'm in her grade, right? I nod and stalk away seething.

Finally, I get close to her. A friend of mine, who has known me for years, has managed to acquaint herself with my love.

I help my friend with her work, and gain a permanent seat on the opposite side from where she is sitting. We occasionally swap information, and even banter every few weeks. Still, I am unfulfilled and desperate, mind, body and soul yearning for the bliss promised behind those bright blue eyes.

I approach her at lunch, she's taken to socialising with some of my more familiar co-students. We discuss small things, trivial things, and my mind drifts wantonly inthe sea of my desire. Eventually I build up the pace, spilling out my heart to her in many aspects of my life, letting it all flow, seeing if she will accept me. I finally steel myself to ask. "Hey, um, I would rea-"

I am horribly interrupted.

"Wanna come play handball?" a voice calls, resounding my doom. I despise handball. Surely she will say no.

"Yeah, coming!" she replies. "See you later," she says to me over her shoulder as she jogs away, her flaxen hair bobbing up and down in its constraints.

"Yeah, see you too," I mutter, and wander away. In the wind and chill of the autumn day, I discreetly wipe a tear off my face, leaving a shiny streak of sorrow across its desolate landscape of misery.

Ah well, there's always tomorrow.