The Initials meets me at the front door of school. She’s frantic but beautiful in a long silky dress.
I say, “I’ve got a lot going on right now.”
She backs off a bit.
“Of course you have. I’m sorry to yell at you, Sanskrit. Let’s just get you in there.”
She starts walking, and I hurry along next to her.
“I have to tell you something,” I say.
“Could you tell me on the way?”
“Would you just stop for a second?”
She pauses, confused.
“What is it? Are you nervous about the event?”
“I’m in love with you,” I say.
It pops out of me. Sometimes when you have nothing to lose, you do things you wouldn’t imagine doing any other time.
“What did you just say?”
“I’ve always loved you. Ever since that spelling bee in second grade.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I know you have a boyfriend and you’re, like—on a whole different social strata than me.”
“That’s not true,” she says. “I don’t have any friends.”
“What about The Rabbi?”
“Herschel? He used to be my friend. Not really now.”
A cheer echoes from the gymnasium and bounces down the hall.
“They’re all cheering for you,” The Initials says. “What do you call that?”
“They’re cheering because my mother got hit by a car.”
“Good point,” she says.
“Just forget it. Forget I said anything. I needed to get it off my chest. I’ll bury it again, and we can go back to being acquaintances tomorrow.”
“But I want to talk to you about it, Sanskrit.”
“You do?”
“I want to ask you about second grade. Just not now.”
Suddenly, I feel happy. More than happy. Hopeful. Maybe I’ve lost everything but gained back The Initials.
Wait. Not The Initials.
“Yes?”
“Maybe we can go out after the fund-raiser and talk about everything?”
“After,” she says. “Definitely.”