Everyday I walk to afterschool, and I get this funny feeling that someone is watching me. I look up from my current book to find the most beautiful boy I have ever seen looking at me. His name is Joey. He is always at the end of the hall. My thirteen-ness has finally caught up to me as I walk as slowly as possible past him. Our eyes meet for just a second before I turn and walk to my friend group. We share feelings with excited whispers, exaggerated glances, and giggles. And finally, I walk and imagine.
At the end of the hall
April 22, 2010