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Left in the Cold MAG
My head goes blank when I see him walk down the hallway and he doesn't even look my way. Our conversations are just a fuzzy memory as soon as they are over. I don't remember what I said. I don't remember what he said. Did we even speak?
I remember asking him one day if he liked anybody. I knew the answer would probably be yes. A guy like him probably has girls drooling whenever he is around. I am one of those girls, but he doesn't bother to notice. That's okay.
He said he did like someone. I wasn't surprised. I inquired who, and he said I wouldn't know her.
“Is she in our grade?” I asked. My heart would be devastated if he said she was younger or even older.
“She is, but she lives four hours away.”
My heart stopped, I swear. Why would anyone want to date a person who lived four hours away? I'm right here in front of his face and he doesn't see me. Am I just a ghost sitting next to him in class? When I speak, does he actually listen?
“Have you asked her out?”
“I haven't because I want to wait until we can spend time together. I plan on asking her to go skiing with me and my family.”
Skiing?! Perfect. He will go off and have fun with the girl of his dreams and they'll snuggle by the fire with mugs of hot cocoa and I won't even cross his mind.
Why do I even bother trying to get his attention? I get so frustrated with myself because I should focus on more important things like school.
“You must like somebody. Will you tell me who?” he asked.
I would tell him the password to the CIA network if I knew it. I would tell him anything, but not that. I couldn't tell him that he is all I think about.
“I do, but I can't tell you. I'm sorry.”
“Is he in our English class?”
Being a Christian is hard sometimes – I cannot tell a lie.
I hoped that didn't count.
He laughed. “I know it's probably not me. Is it Ryan?”
Even if he was the last man on earth it wouldn't be Ryan. Why can't he see that? I have to hold back, though, no matter how much it hurts. I don't want to know if he could feel the same way. He likes another girl and I don't want him to think of me as the one who ruined it all.
“It's not Ryan.”
Tomorrow is Monday and I'll go to school like always. I'll walk into English class and he'll sit next to me. I'll say hello if it makes it past my lips. If it doesn't, well, there's always Tuesday. I'll laugh at his jokes. I'll smile as he passes me in the hall, and even if he doesn't look at me I'll be happy for him. He will be warm in the snow, and I will be left out in the cold.