If Only Every Moment Was Black and White by Keith Soares

 
    Me again. Hi. You might have read my story — the one about Sol, or maybe another — and thought, Come on. This guy’s a teenager now. Where’s all the lusting for girls?

    Gotcha covered.

    I mean, I was filled with alien thorns and unable to be hurt and could push people’s minds, but I was still human , for God’s sake.  

    So, where was I? Oh yeah, girls. The little alien thorns in my cells changed a lot of things, but they didn’t block hormones. Might have even amplified them.

    Marjorie Green was about the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. She wasn’t just popular in school, she practically dictated fashion and taste at Thomas Edison Middle.  

    Yes, I went to a school called Thomas Edison Middle . Can you imagine the jokes the teachers and administrators would tell any time they turned on the lights or played a movie? No? Well, fine. Let me tell you, it was a flippin’ riot. Ah, institutional humor.

    Anyway, Marjorie Green. This story isn’t about her. Are you joking? I was a big time nerd. I seriously doubt Marjorie Green knew I existed. It’s not about her.  

    It’s about Carolyn McGregor.

    You may recall I had a little thing for the redheads, right? So, not surprisingly, Carolyn’s hair was red and curly and, well, super Scottish. Put the girl in a tartan and we’re talking stereotype city. I can hear the bagpipes now.

    Of course, my only experience with Scotland was a yearly parade of kilt-wearing men in my town. They made it a heritage-fest kind of thing, but Sam Morrison marched in that parade wearing a kilt, and I’m pretty sure he was like Persian or something. Scottish was just an idea.

    But Carolyn, or Carrie as she liked to be called, was a pale redheaded beauty. Plus she had these eyelashes. Some people said, she has eyes like a cow .

    What?

    Is that not supposed to be an insult? I mean, say what you want, a cow might be cute as a button. But if I went up and called a girl a cow, I’d be lucky to have all my teeth by evening. Ditto for all other farm animals. Not a good idea.  

    Carrie’s eyelashes were long and heart-stopping. Why do I know that? Because when she fluttered her lashes my heart nearly stopped. Q.E.D.

    Anyway, we sat next to each other in Honors Science. Honors . Sounds important right? Yup. Except it was the same as regular science but you had to make an exhibit for the county science fair. And guess what?

    Our teacher, Mr. Arbogast, made us team up. I mean, it was simply due to the seating chart, okay?  

    Or maybe I slipped him a fifty.  

    Kidding .  

    Where the hell would I get a fifty? I was fourteen and unemployed. Yeah, this happened about the time that Bobby ran away from home to meet up with Sol. So I had some time to focus on other affairs, since I had politely decided to ignore my friend’s peril for a while. Ahem. Anyway, I didn’t have any money. So it was luck, not bribery.

    Carrie and I were set to be partners for the county science fair.

    Never on God’s green Earth has there been a more momentous pairing. It was fate. It was destiny.  

    It was worth 100 points toward our grade that semester.

    This shit was important.

    I was sweating.

    Carrie wasn’t Marjorie, and that’s no slight or insult. Where Marjorie was bold and forward and a leader, Carrie was quiet. She was happy to be in the background. Let other folks (such as Marjorie) dictate school fashion. Carrie was a lot more down to Earth and humble.

    Which is exactly what tricked me into thinking I could ask her out.

    Thomas Edison Middle has three dances each year. One near the beginning of the school year, called the Social, one toward the middle, called Winter Fest, and Prom at the end of the year. In my opinion the first two dances exist solely to allow nerds like myself time to think about the idea of asking a girl out. We have to work through the mental block twice before we can do anything. I’m relatively certain that not a single nerd attends the Social or