“So, are you finally over it?” Hailey asked as we walked into Scoops, our favorite ice-cream place in town. We were meeting for a little treat after school. I certainly could use it.
“Over it?” I shrugged. I needed to order before I talked about anything. “A double scoop of Crazy Cookie and Double-Trouble Chocolate in a waffle cone, please, with rainbow sprinkles,” I said to the girl behind the counter.
“Wow, impressive,” Hailey said to me. “That sounds amazing. I’ll have the same,” she said to the counter girl.
We got our cones and sat down at one of the tables. I took a big bite, a little bit of Crazy Cookie, a little bit of Double-Trouble Chocolate, and the edge of the waffle cone, all together in one sweet chocolaty creamy crunchy combination. Heaven. Ice Cream Solves World’s Problems. Or at least mine, for just a few minutes. Now I was ready to talk.
“I think I’m over it. Let’s not even talk about it anymore,” I said, taking another bite.
“Okay,” Hailey replied, looking a little disappointed.
“Tell me something interesting about you. Are you sure you don’t like Frank? Is it just because of his ears and his dark hair?”
Hailey rolled her eyes at me. “Will you leave it alone? Why do you want me to have a crush on him so bad?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just bored and trying to stir something up.”
“Well, stir up something else,” Hailey said. “Trust me. You’ll be the first to know when someone catches my eye. Right now I’m just focusing on soccer, schoolwork, and having fun with you!”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. I wasn’t really bored, but I was tired. We were just finishing up our ice cream when Jeff, the Voice photographer, came in. He ordered a dish of what looked like Mint-Chip Madness. I waved at him, and he came and sat down with us.
“You know, I’m trying to get some more ‘around town’ kind of candids. Can I take a few pictures of you guys?” he asked.
Hailey and I looked at each other. Hailey touched her hair. I wiped my mouth just to make sure there wasn’t a big blob of Double-Trouble Chocolate on my chin.
“I guess so,” I said, still looking at Hailey doubtfully.
“Yes!” she said, and flung her arm around me. “Normally, I have very strict policies for the paparazzi, but I’ll allow this one exception.”
We mugged for the camera, gave our best famous movie-star looks, and by the time Jeff was finished taking photos, we were practically on the floor, hysterical laughing.
“Wow. I think I got some great ones,” Jeff said, flipping through the pics on his digital camera. “You guys are good subjects.”
“Yes, yes.” I waved my hand dramatically at him. “Just make sure you send them to my agent.”
“Right,” said Jeff. “Well I’ll let you two get back to your ice cream.”
Just then my phone dinged. I looked down to see the text.
When are we going to meet???
“It’s Michael,” I said to Hailey.
“Ooh, what does he want?”
“I think he wants to meet for our texting article,” I told her, still looking at my phone.
“Well, I say no better time than the present!” She banged the table with her fist.
I jumped. “Sheesh! You mean here?” I asked, looking around. There were only three tables.
“Probably not, unless you’re going to get another waffle cone. Maybe the coffee shop next door?”
“But we’re hanging out,” I said, even though I thought it would be great to meet Michael now. I didn’t have a lot of homework tonight, so it would be great to get some more things hammered out and to start writing. I felt a little behind on the article, and even though I’d gotten some decent quotes and the poll info, we still needed more opinions from both the students and the faculty. I didn’t want to ditch Hailey, though.
“I have a big test on Monday and my mom’s going to help me study, so I should go anyway.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can meet him another time.”
Hailey nodded. “Really,” she said. “Meet him now.”
“You’re the boss,” I said.
“I am?” Hailey said, fluffing her hair. “Well, that’s good news, because I always want to be the boss.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said as I texted Michael back.
Hailey put her hands on her hips. “Hey!” she said.
How about the Java Stop in five minutes? I typed, naming the coffee place next door. “You know, whenever I text someone,” I said to Hailey, “I stress out until I hear from them. Like, as soon as I hit the send button, I start to feel all anxious. Does that ever happen to you?” I asked.
“I guess so. I certainly would if I were texting my Michael Lawrence, if I, like, you know, had one.”
“You make it sound like something you pick up at the grocery store. Michael Lawrences on sale this week. Two for one.”
“Ha-ha. The store would probably sell out.”
“Well, that’s nice to say . . . I think.” I imagined trying to explain the compliment to Michael. I didn’t think it would translate well. My phone dinged again. I looked down.
Great! I can b there in ten, he responded.
Then I let out a breath. “Okay, hold the phone,” I said, putting my hand up in a “stop” position. “In ten minutes, I’m going to be hanging out in the Java Stop with Michael Lawrence,” I said, the truth of it just dawning on me. “Do I look okay?” I asked, smoothing my hair and pinching my cheeks, like Allie had taught me. I don’t think Michael and I had ever been there together. We had only been “in public” alone maybe two or three times.
“You look fab, except for that chocolate ice cream all over your face.”
“What?” I cried, wiping frantically at my chin and mouth.
“Just kidding,” Hailey said as she stood up and grabbed her backpack.
I walked out with her, said good-bye, and then went into the Java Stop. I stood at the counter looking at the chalk-drawn menu. I wasn’t in the mood for anything sugary after my ice cream, so I ordered an unsweetened iced tea. I found a table in the back. I sipped my tea and waited. Luckily, no one I knew was there, except for a few high school kids I vaguely recognized. Not that I didn’t want anyone to see me and Michael. It just made me more nervous to feel like we were being watched by people we knew.
Michael came in and didn’t see me at first. He ordered something at the counter and then turned around, glancing this way and that, and still didn’t see me. I waved, but he just turned around and sat down at a table near the front, which was probably what I should have done in the first place. A few tables full of kids were almost blocking my way, but I could still see him sipping his drink and checking his phone. It was kind of fun to spy on him like this. I waited a few more moments and then decided to text him instead of getting up and going over to him, to get us in the mind-set of our article.
Look past the table in front of you and to the left.
I saw him see the text and look up, almost alarmed. I gave him a big smile and a wave, and he saw me and smiled back. Then he picked up his cup and came over.
“You’re full of surprises today, Paste,” he said, sitting down.
“And why’s that?” I asked, searching in my bag for my notebook.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just sensing a new spontaneity in you. I like it,” he said.
I looked down to hide the redness creeping into my cheeks. Spontaneity? Would Michael like me more if I were more spontaneous? I always thought he liked that I was pretty organized and planned out about things. I did love my lists.
“You call this spontaneous?” I said, showing him my list/outline for the article, neatly written out in numbered and lettered sections.
“Well, no. But something’s a little different about you this year,” he said knowingly. Honestly, I didn’t really know what he was talking about. Maybe he just wished I was different and was trying to make me that way. Was that a crazy thing to think? I turned to a blank page in my notebook.
“These are my . . . spontaneous . . . thoughts on our article. Ready?” I said.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, Pasty. Actually, I might need to come up with a new nickname for you.”
“While you think about that incredibly important thing, I’m going to continue my thought,” I said, pointing my pencil at him.
“Okay, sorry,” he said, smiling sheepishly and sinking down in his chair a little bit.
“We just don’t have a hook here. I mean, fine, we text too much in school and now the school makes a rule that we can’t and we’re all upset about it. That’s it? We need something more than that.”
“I agree. Hit me with your spontaneity, Pasty. I mean Fancy-Free!” His eyes sparkled.
“Are you serious? Fancy-Free? I don’t think so. But how’s this for spontaneous? We need a bigger story here, something we can follow. Something that will add a little more drama to the situation,” I said, tapping my pencil on my notebook. I took a sip of my tea.
“Yeah, I’m listening,” Michael said, and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head.
“How about . . . we . . . um.” I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I thought about the poll and how it was cool to get people’s honest behavior and feedback. What if we dug a little deeper into people’s real experiences with texting? A brainstorm was forming. I stuck my pencil in the air. “How about we invite people to participate in an experiment!”
“What kind of experiment?” Michael asked, now leaning forward in his chair.
“Where we ask people not to text for twenty-four hours,” I announced.
“I like it.” He thought for a moment. “And then we can ask them to e-mail us their experiences,” he continued.
“Yes! Maybe we could get some teachers to participate too. They may be just as addicted to texting as the students are outside of class. It levels the playing field. We all have to deal with the good parts and bad parts about technology. It’s not just the kids who are dealing with it.”
“I love it! I’ll clear it with Mr. Trigg to send out another blast Voice e-mail. Hopefully, we can get it out tonight. Nice one, Fancy-Free,” he said, and held up his hand for a high-five. I reached over the table to give him one and knocked over my drink. Luckily it spilled to the side, not in Michael’s lap.
“Oh no,” I exclaimed, grabbing a bunch of napkins from the container on the table. Michael grabbed some and helped me. We both wiped the table up as fast as we could. Then we knelt on the floor, since a big puddle had formed to the side of the table. I really wasn’t paying attention to anything else but trying to clean it up as fast as I could when, bam, our heads crashed right into each other.
“Ow!” I said, holding my forehead.
“Are you okay?” Michael said, looking up at me. Our faces were an inch away from each other. The whole scenario was making me dizzy. I got up quickly, still rubbing my head.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, as if I didn’t have a huge throbbing pain in the center of my head. “Are you?” I asked. His forehead looked okay. He wasn’t rubbing it or anything.
“I think you got the worst of it. I guess my head is harder than yours.” He smiled.
“I think it might be,” I said, still rubbing the sore spot.
Michael looked at me with his mouth open. “Gee, thanks,” he said.
“You’re the one who brought it up!” I nudged him in the arm.
“Wait here,” he said. He went up to the counter and talked to the barista. A minute later, he came back holding a small plastic bag of ice and a new iced tea for me.
“Here you go,” he said. “Now, sit down and take a moment to ice the bump. It will keep the swelling down.”
“Aww, Mickey, you’re a class act,” I said, holding the ice to my forehead.
“Thanks. So are you. Just try to be a little less, uh, spontaneous next time . . . Spilly.”
Well, I certainly deserved that one.