It’s a little figurine not much bigger than the pewter king on my chess trophy. It’s a band member. Tall red and white feathered hat. Red andgold jacket. White pants. Playing a trombone. A tiny gold-gilt trombone. A label on the bottom says “76 TROMBONES.” It’s from The Music Man !
It’s plastic. It’s cheap. I don’t care. I’m thrilled.
PD209
H ow shall I do it? All I know for sure is how not to do it. Don’t give it to her at school. Don’t give it to her at Saturday-night Monopoly. Think…think…
PD210
T hinking…
PD211
G ot it!
PD213
I wrapped it up. White paper, red bow. One word on the tag: “Mi-Su.” Skateboarded over to her house yesterday. Sunday. Walked the last block. Had to be careful she wasn’t outside. Snuck up to the front step, laid it down on the bricks, rang the bell, ran, hid on the far side of the garage. I was hoping she would answer the door. She usually does, runs for it like a little kid. But even if one of her parents answered, I could live with that. I peeked around the corner.
She opened the door. Frowned. Looked around. Looked down. Picked it up. Tore it open right there. Squealed. Came out farther. Looked up and down the street. Called to the empty street, “Hey?…Hello?” Looked again at the figurine. Kissed it. Held it up in thesunlight, the tiny trombone gleaming. “Thank you!”
I stepped out. “You’re welcome.”
She turned, saw me, came running, threw her arms around my neck, kissed me, squealed, “Where did you get it?”
“Oh, somewhere,” I said, mucho cool.
We spent the rest of the day together. If she touched me once, she touched me a hundred times. Big, long, non-nice kiss good-night.
Today I’m floating through school. She blew me a kiss in the hallway. Is there a Cloud Ten?
PD214
U p in the dormer before dinner. Staring at her roof. Imagining her in her house, moving from room to room, humming Music Man tunes. The show will be Friday and Saturday nights.
At lunch today she said to BT and me, “So, which night are you guys coming?”
“Friday, of course,” said BT. “Saturday’sMonopoly.” He deadpanned at her. “You’re not giving up Monopoly to do that stupid play, are you?”
She looked at him, her face blank for a half second, then caught the twinkle in his eye and broke out laughing.
I said, “Both.”
She turned to me. “Huh?”
“I’m going both nights.”
I’m not sure they believed me.
I was tempted to ask her to the dance right there. The freshman dance is next month. I’ve been thinking of it since Valentine’s night. I probably would have asked her already, but I held off because things were uncertain there for a while. Now I’m ready to roll. Or at least, ready to plan. Valentine’s night and the Music Man figurine worked out well. So I know that’s the way to go for the dance.
In fact, the plan is already in place. It just came to me. I guess I’m getting good at this. I’m going to do it this Saturday night, right after the last performance of the play. I’ll meet her in the lobby, or maybe even backstage. She’ll be flushed and breathless and glowingfrom excitement, and I’ll congratulate her and we’ll hug and then I’ll say something like, “Well, y’know, just because the play is over doesn’t mean you have to stop dancing. Let’s go to the freshman dance together.” And she’ll squeal out “I’d love to!” or “Yes!” or whatever and we’ll hug again and so forth.
I can see it so clearly. After three or four days of this, I’ll hardly be able to tell it from a memory, it will be so real. In fact, the looking forward will be so much fun that when Saturday finally comes, I’ll probably wish I had another week to think about it. I’ll carry my thoughts around with me like soda in a cup, sipping through a straw whenever I feel like a taste: during class, on my skateboard, lying down to sleep, especially then.
I’m that way, goofy as it sounds. Sometimes I don’t want
It’s plastic. It’s cheap. I don’t care. I’m thrilled.
PD209
H ow shall I do it? All I know for sure is how not to do it. Don’t give it to her at school. Don’t give it to her at Saturday-night Monopoly. Think…think…
PD210
T hinking…
PD211
G ot it!
PD213
I wrapped it up. White paper, red bow. One word on the tag: “Mi-Su.” Skateboarded over to her house yesterday. Sunday. Walked the last block. Had to be careful she wasn’t outside. Snuck up to the front step, laid it down on the bricks, rang the bell, ran, hid on the far side of the garage. I was hoping she would answer the door. She usually does, runs for it like a little kid. But even if one of her parents answered, I could live with that. I peeked around the corner.
She opened the door. Frowned. Looked around. Looked down. Picked it up. Tore it open right there. Squealed. Came out farther. Looked up and down the street. Called to the empty street, “Hey?…Hello?” Looked again at the figurine. Kissed it. Held it up in thesunlight, the tiny trombone gleaming. “Thank you!”
I stepped out. “You’re welcome.”
She turned, saw me, came running, threw her arms around my neck, kissed me, squealed, “Where did you get it?”
“Oh, somewhere,” I said, mucho cool.
We spent the rest of the day together. If she touched me once, she touched me a hundred times. Big, long, non-nice kiss good-night.
Today I’m floating through school. She blew me a kiss in the hallway. Is there a Cloud Ten?
PD214
U p in the dormer before dinner. Staring at her roof. Imagining her in her house, moving from room to room, humming Music Man tunes. The show will be Friday and Saturday nights.
At lunch today she said to BT and me, “So, which night are you guys coming?”
“Friday, of course,” said BT. “Saturday’sMonopoly.” He deadpanned at her. “You’re not giving up Monopoly to do that stupid play, are you?”
She looked at him, her face blank for a half second, then caught the twinkle in his eye and broke out laughing.
I said, “Both.”
She turned to me. “Huh?”
“I’m going both nights.”
I’m not sure they believed me.
I was tempted to ask her to the dance right there. The freshman dance is next month. I’ve been thinking of it since Valentine’s night. I probably would have asked her already, but I held off because things were uncertain there for a while. Now I’m ready to roll. Or at least, ready to plan. Valentine’s night and the Music Man figurine worked out well. So I know that’s the way to go for the dance.
In fact, the plan is already in place. It just came to me. I guess I’m getting good at this. I’m going to do it this Saturday night, right after the last performance of the play. I’ll meet her in the lobby, or maybe even backstage. She’ll be flushed and breathless and glowingfrom excitement, and I’ll congratulate her and we’ll hug and then I’ll say something like, “Well, y’know, just because the play is over doesn’t mean you have to stop dancing. Let’s go to the freshman dance together.” And she’ll squeal out “I’d love to!” or “Yes!” or whatever and we’ll hug again and so forth.
I can see it so clearly. After three or four days of this, I’ll hardly be able to tell it from a memory, it will be so real. In fact, the looking forward will be so much fun that when Saturday finally comes, I’ll probably wish I had another week to think about it. I’ll carry my thoughts around with me like soda in a cup, sipping through a straw whenever I feel like a taste: during class, on my skateboard, lying down to sleep, especially then.
I’m that way, goofy as it sounds. Sometimes I don’t want
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