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Of course, the not-thinking-about-Jeremy thing didn’t last. By Tuesday morning, he was on my mind again.

Big time.

Why? Because of the posters plastered all over school. They must have gone up on Monday night or early Tuesday. Either way, they appeared like mushrooms after the rain, all over the place. They came in every shade of pink and red. They were covered with hearts and flowers and lace. And every one of them was a big, shouting reminder to me that I’d better figure out the Jeremy situation — and soon.

The posters were advertising an upcoming dance being thrown by the seventh-graders.

The Cupid’s Arrow Dance.

Eek.

Not that I have anything against dances. I don’t. Under the right circumstances, I love going to a dance. I’ve gone to them with friends. I’ve gone to them alone. And I’ve gone to them with dates. I like dressing for dances, I like decorating the gym for dances, I like helping to choose the music for dances. And I love to dance!

I might have skipped the dance if Jeremy and Stacey had been going to it together. But now that they had broken up, I had nothing to worry about, right?

Wrong.

I had plenty to worry about. Like: Was Jeremy going to ask me to the dance? If he did, would we be going as friends — or as more than friends? If he didn’t ask me, should I ask him? What if he — ugh! — asked someone else?

I didn’t know what to do. It seemed as if those posters were everywhere. I couldn’t forget about the dance for a second. And as the week went by, more posters appeared. There was one by my locker and one in the hall near my homeroom. They were plastered all over the cafeteria. By Thursday, there was even one in the girls’ room!

Meanwhile, Jeremy seemed to be avoiding me. I used to see him every morning. He’d stop to chat as he passed my locker. But now he must have been taking a different route to his homeroom — or maybe it was just that I wasn’t hanging out at my locker as much. I guess I was avoiding him a little too. I didn’t know how to act around him.

Jeremy is in my English class, which used to make me happy. Now it just made me nervous. I would bury my nose in a book until I was sure he had come in and taken his seat. And I would bolt out of the room the second the bell rang.

School was becoming a very stressful place.

I would have loved to talk to Stacey (who, I’d heard, was thinking about asking Ethan to the dance), but how could I? For one thing, we were hardly on close speaking terms yet. And for another, I definitely wasn’t ready to talk to her about my feelings for Jeremy.

Erica would have been glad to listen, but I didn’t want to strain our new friendship by babbling on too much about my problems. I knew she had plenty on her mind anyway. She’d told me she thought I should just invite Jeremy. I hemmed and hawed.

Finally, by Thursday, I was driving myself crazy with all my indecision. I realized it was time to take action.

I decided to ask Jeremy to the dance after all.

Just ask him. What was the worst that could happen? He could say no. And I would deal with that.

Eek.

But how and when should I ask him? Should I just approach him casually? I’d have to catch him when he was alone, which wasn’t easy during school. No way did I want Alan Gray to overhear and start teasing me.

Maybe I could call him at home. That could work. Unless his mother answered the phone. If he wasn’t there, she’d expect me to leave a message. What would I say? “Uh — tell him Claudia wants to know if he wants to go to the dance with …”

Um, no thanks.

Finally, I came up with the perfect solution.

I would write him a note.

I raced home after school on Thursday, eager to put my thoughts down on paper. I’d discovered the perfect way to find out what was going to happen between Jeremy and me.

After a quick snack of Combos and a mini Snickers bar, I sat down at my desk and pulled out a sheet of my best stationery. Across the top is a painting by Monet, of beautiful water lilies floating on a pond.

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I wrote. Something looked not quite right about Jeremy’s name, but I didn’t stop to think about it. The important thing was to write from my heart.

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I stopped and thought for a second. Then I crumpled up the paper and threw it in my wastebasket. Why should I tell him he could say no? First of all, he knew that. Second of all, why put ideas in his head? I should think positive. I started over.

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Ugh! This was harder than I’d thought it would be. I crumpled up that try too. Then I started again, but this time I was smart about it. I used a piece of paper from my science notebook instead of wasting my good stationery. I could always copy it over onto the Monet paper later, once I’d figured out what to say.

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Another piece of paper bit the dust. My waste-basket was filling up quickly. I sat and thought for a couple of minutes, tapping my pencil against my teeth. Then I pulled out another sheet of paper and started again. Maybe I should try to be funny.

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Or maybe not. Being funny wasn’t so easy for me, especially about something that was so important. Maybe Abby could write a funny note to a boy she had a crush on, but not me. It was probably better just to come out and say what I was thinking.

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I stopped writing and stared at the words I’d put down so far. They seemed a little bold — but I also liked how straightforward the note sounded. If Jeremy read this, he would know exactly how I was feeling. (Well, not exactly. I would much rather go to the dance as more-than-friends, but I didn’t have to spell that out.)

I liked how this note was turning out. But I had a nagging feeling that some of the words weren’t spelled quite right. And was the grammar correct? Was I really saying what I meant to say?

That’s when I had my brainstorm.

I could type my note into the computer and have the computer spellcheck and grammarcheck the whole thing. Then I could copy it back onto paper, using my good stationery. The note would look perfect, and I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed by any mistakes.

I finished writing down my thoughts. Then I turned on my computer and typed the whole thing out (that took me awhile). Finally, I activated my spellchecker.

Yikes!

I know I don’t spell well, but sometimes it’s still a surprise to see just how badly I mangle some words. It took the computer a long, long time to fix up what I’d written. There were some words it couldn’t even figure out, like Jeremy’s name! I realized I might not be spelling it right and decided to start the note with “To a good friend,” instead.

Grammarcheck didn’t take as long, but I was glad I’d thought of doing it. There were some run-on sentences, and the computer had no idea what I meant by “more-than-friends.”

But I left that in. I had a feeling Jeremy would know.

Once the computer was sure that everything in the note was perfect, I printed out a copy. Then I pulled out the last sheet of my Monet stationery and carefully, letter by letter, copied the whole thing out in my own handwriting.

I signed my name at the bottom and folded the note into thirds. Then I taped it shut and put it into my backpack, ready for an early morning delivery. I figured I could slip the note into Jeremy’s locker first thing, so he’d have it before homeroom. And by the end of the day on Friday, I’d have my answer. I had made my feelings clear, and soon I would know how Jeremy truly felt.