Hunched over my desk like The Thinker, I glanced at the back of my left hand. The red ink was still there. Three loopy digits, hyphen, four loopy digits, smiley face. My heart skipped a beat as I thought back to 7th period that day. Science class. Megan and I were lab partners. We’d spent the hour dissecting a small fish. Mr. J told us that every fish has a bone in its ear called an otolith, or something like that, which scientists can use to figure out its age. I’m not sure if we found the otolith or not, but I had found Megan’s hand while reaching for my lab notes. Her soft, warm skin sent fireworks through my body. I’d just meant to touch her, but before I realized what I was doing I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Where had that come from?
I shook my head and broke off the science daydream. I glanced at my phone sitting, innocently enough, on the desk. “You can do this,” I thought, but even my inner voice was trembling. I flipped open the phone and watched the screen light up. It was 5:30. She probably wasn’t eating dinner yet. I typed in the first digit, 8, followed by a 9, and then stopped. I flipped the phone closed.
***
Mr. J had told us that we were going to have to choose new lab partners for the fourth quarter of the school year. The news had bummed me out. Dave and I had been partners all year and we were a great pair. He was a math wizard and checked all our calculations and I saw to it that our lab write-ups actually made sense. We knew we could count on each other to always get A’s. But now, during my last quarter of middle school, I’d be diving into the great unknown. Mr. J had told us we could choose anyone in the class to be our partner, but this time there were a couple of new rules. First, we couldn’t work with somebody we’d already been partners with and second, it would have to be someone of the opposite sex. There were several giggles after he’d said the word.
***
I lifted my head from its cradle of fingers and reached, once more for my cell and flipped it open. 5:43. I’d call her at 5:47, I told myself, it would be bad luck to call when the digits in the time descended, 5-4-3. I opened up Tetris and began to place the pieces.
***
I had been scanning the room for someone I could work with that would be even remotely as good as Dave. I was ticked at Mr. J for his ridiculous rules, but he told us that boys and girls think a little differently and he wanted us to have perspective. Whatever. I was just about to go ask Debbie when I felt a tap on my upper arm. I wheeled around and there she was. Megan. It was a sunny day and a beam was perfectly illuminating her beautiful blonde hair, which settled on her shoulders like golden autumn leaves. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, her skin was angelic, she smiled as our eyes locked. For just a moment, it was magical, but then I could feel my face flush with color and I quickly looked down at the beige asphalt tiles on the floor.
“Um, hey,” she said, “do you, um, want to be my lab partner?”
My heart fluttered, my hands turned to ice, and every form of language skill I had acquired over my 14 years decided, at that moment, to make themselves completely unavailable to my tongue. I stared, frozen, like an ice-sculpture of my former self.
“Jackson?” she asked twisting her right foot into the floor and twirling a thread of pale hair. I heard the classroom door open behind me and a gentle breeze blew in, which caught her blonde wisps and teased them like perfect wind socks. She looked like a model. I could have collapsed and I leaned on a desk for physical and moral support. I composed myself as best I could.
“Uh…what?” was the best reply I could muster.
“Well, like, Mr. J said we have to pick someone of the opposite…,” she trailed off, much to my relief, before continuing, “and, like, I was…well…you know, you and Dave, you’re always partners and me and Elise we’re always partners. Well, it’s like, Dave and Elise are gonna be partners now, so I just was like…”
“Yeah!” I said, just a little too excitedly, my voice cracking with a shrill tone that surprised both of us.
***
My phone vibrated when my Tetris pieces had completely filled up my screen. I exited the game and saw it was 5:49. I’d missed my own deadline. I glared at my phone and tried to use sheer willpower to get someone, anyone, to call me.
***
Megan and I had been lab partners for two weeks, when Dave announced he was going to ask Elise to the spring semi-formal dance. “You should totally ask Megan, man. No one’s asked her yet and Elise says she’s totally into you, and besides, she’s super-hot. It’ll be like a double date.” Dave was right about one thing, Megan was hot. Crazy-hot. She was one of the smartest kids in eighth grade, star of the basketball team, and wore clothes that were modest, yet perfectly form-fitting. She would win the triple-crown of sexy if there were such a competition. In 7th grade, she had been voted Most Likely to Succeed, Most Athletic, and Most Fun at a Party. She had actually been voted Most… in every category, but Ms. Cavanaugh, the school principal, had told the journalism students they had to limit her to only three. I didn’t feel like I was good enough for her.
***
“Jackson, it’s time for dinner!” shouted Mom, “Are you doing your homework up there?”
“Yup,” I lied. I glanced at my phone before heading downstairs to eat. It was 6:17.
***
“Did you hear?” asked Dave as we walked into English class that morning.
“Hear what?” I said. Dave was always into the latest gossip.
“Bryan Saunders totally asked Megan to go to the semi-formal after school yesterday.” I could feel a lump in my throat and it felt like I had just been punched in the gut. All of a sudden it felt hard to breathe and the words Bryan and Saunders seemed like the two most horrible utterances imaginable. He who cannot be named. “But the thing is,” Dave continued, “she totally said no. Dude, she’s totally holding out for you, man, but you’ve gotta get on this. She’s a girl and she’s hot and she’s not gonna wait forever, that’s for sure.” The lump temporarily subsided and my gut no longer ached until I realized what it was I had to do.
Throughout the day, I carefully weighed my options. I could just go up to her and ask, but if she said no, science lab wouldn’t really work out anymore. I just wasn’t sure if I could go the rest of the quarter working with her after that kind of blatant rejection. I could write a note, but that seemed so fifth grade. By the time science rolled around, my plan was solidified.
***
I ate dinner quickly and headed upstairs. I was glad Mom hadn’t said anything about the number on my hand even though, in a weird sort of way, I had wanted her to see it. Earlier in the year Mr. Benson had taught us the Latin phrase, “carpe diem.” He said that it meant seize the day. I decided to heed that advice. I picked up my phone and dialed Megan’s number without hesitating. It was 6:58.
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end of the line. It was Megan’s dad. My heart sank. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that she would give me her home number. I’d never really spoken to Mr. Martz before, but he came to all Megan’s basketball games and his voice was always heard above all others yelling at her coaches and the refs. He was intimidating with a capital I. I was speechless. My lexicon had left the building.
“Hello?” Mr. Martz said again, this time clearly perturbed.
“Um, hi,” I squeaked, “um is Megan around?”
“Who’s this?” he inquired.
“Jackson,” I managed to choke out, “it’s Jackson Bernard.”
“Jackson! Well, why didn’t you say so? You wouldn’t happen to be calling to ask Megan to that semi-formal she’s been talking about incessantly for the past two weeks, would you?” His voice had completely changed, not only did he seem glad I was calling, but he was acting as if he’d known me for years. Somehow the eeriness of it all made me even more nervous, if that was even possible.
“Yes, Mr. Martz, sir,” I said, the words pouring out like lava, unintentionally formal.
“Oh, please, call me Dan,” he said, “Unfortunately, Meggie’s in the shower, but I’ll have her call ya back as soon as she’s out. Shouldn’t be more than 10 or 15 minutes.”
“Thank you, sir,” I spit as I tried with all my might to suppress my mind from picturing water droplets running the length of Megan Martz’s beautiful body while her dad was still on the other end of the phone line.
***
I’d gotten it all figured out halfway through sixth period algebra. I knew we were going to be dissecting a fish and would have to write a lab report soon. I’d make a couple of jokes about the data we were collecting being ‘fishy’ and then just as smooth as a silk scarf I would reach over her hands for something, just barely dusting her skin. She’d look at me and then I’d say something like, pardon me, but I was reaching for your digits and then she’d laugh and give me her number immediately. It didn’t quite happen that way.
We were all done dissecting the fish when Mr. J told us that we’d get extra credit if we found the otolith. I hadn’t had a chance to carry out my plan yet, so this was remarkably lucky. Megan and I had switched sides leaving my notes in front of her. There would be no better chance. I reached for the notes just as her right hand was moving forward. NASA couldn’t have planned a better landing on a foreign object, instead of just dusting her skin, our hands locked together, my fingers were above hers, my thumb nestled perfectly in her palm, and at that moment, as if the sparks weren’t already flying from every angle, I squeezed her hand and at the same moment released a massive sneeze that sent a spray of spittle all over our hands and the science project.
***
At 7:08, my heart was racing. It had been ten minutes. We had entered the range where Dan, or Mr. Martz, or whatever, had assured me I would be getting a call. I tried to play Tetris, but I couldn’t focus on the game. The seconds were feeling like hours.
***
I was so embarrassed and Megan was giggling nearly uncontrollably. “Bless you,” she laughed as she turned on the water and began to rinse her hand. I couldn’t stand it, I walked out of class and headed for the closest bathroom. I felt like folding myself into the smallest space possible and never coming out.
I splashed water on my face and managed to compose myself enough to head back into Mr. J’s class. I went to the back of the room where the lab tables were, sat down on a stool, but could not bring myself to look at Megan. As the bell rang, I made a beeline for the door. I was fast, but not fast enough. As the class spilled into the hall, I felt a familiar tap on my upper arm. I turned to see Megan, a smiling angel. She took my hand and without saying a word pulled a red pen from her backpack and scrawled her number across the back of my hand. Then she gave it a gentle squeeze and drew a smiley face. She winked. As she walked away, she turned around once and it was hard to tell, but I thought she might have even blown a kiss.
***
At 7:21, I was feeling desperate. I still hadn’t heard a thing. I took out my algebra book and began the homework set. I was halfway through problem number 23 when my phone began to ring. The number on the caller ID matched the one on the back of my hand. It was 7:49 when I flipped the phone open and said, “Hello?”
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