I know what it’s like to see somebody and be scared of them. To see somebody and think all the zillions of things you’re not supposed to think about how you’re not cool enough or too small or too big or too something you don’t even know what it is. I know what it’s like to see someone and practically melt the minute you see them because everybody told you there would be someone like that. It’s in every book. It’s in every movie. It’s in every poem since the beginning of time and maybe even written on walls somewhere in cave drawings. Everyone tells you that person is coming. That person who’s gonna knock your socks off. Everyone tells you for so long and in so many ways that finally you don’t believe them.
Until you see them. Him.
Milo.
Milo Hesse.
Now I’m gonna tell you what he looks like.
You know that movie? The one with the cowboy who finds out he’s got AIDS and then he starts getting medicine and bringing it over the border? Okay, not that guy. The other guy. The one that plays the transvestite.
That guy.
Now imagine that guy, but imagine him when he is not playing a lady. Now make him about six feet tall and put jeans on him and a dark blue T-shirt that says something in Japanese but it’s a Wild West movie poster. Yes, a Wild West movie poster, with Japanese writing, on a T-shirt. I’m pretty sure it says, “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” but I’m not about to keep looking at this guy’s chest to figure it out because I’m already cowering in my boots and I’m not even wearing boots.
That’s how bad it is.
Also, there are green eyes involved. And either he is wearing false eyelashes or he should pick up the phone right now and call his mama and tell her thank you for the beautiful eyelashes. And for the mouth. Oh, you didn’t know he had a sweetheart mouth? Yes. Check. Chestnut-brown hair that is slightly a swoop but not too much of a swoop? Check. Camouflage Vans? Check.
What is happening now is Remy is looking at me and smiling like the cat that ate the canary. She is reading my thoughts like a scrawl on a news channel going around and around my head, but that doesn’t matter because I am slowly dissolving into the ground anyway.
“Told you.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mm-hm.”
Milo doesn’t see us yet, but he certainly is looking for someone. Either that or he is auditioning for the play, but you and I both know that is not why he’s here.
“Remy!”
Oh, I guess Milo is here to see Remy. Maybe Milo is in love with Remy. That would make sense. Although Milo and Remy? Kind of too much, if you ask me. But maybe they are meant for each other. Like Titania and Oberon.
Before I can evaporate, Remy grabs my hand and brings me over to meet this person who is clearly a robot developed in a lab in order to destroy hearts.
“Oh, hi.”
Milo looks surprised Remy’s not alone. Not a good sign.
“This is Willa. She’s from Iowa.”
Kill me. Kill me now.
“What? Really? Wow, I’ve never met anyone from Iowa.”
It’s okay if this building just falls into the ground now. No problem.
“I know. Isn’t that cool?” This is Remy trying to make me feel better. Fat chance.
“What’s it like there?”
“Everyone’s blond.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Scandinavian or something. Like that’s where everyone went. When they fled. The famine or something.”
God, what am I talking about? The famine?!
Now Milo is really sizing me up.
“And would you say you’re a typical Iowa specimen?”
“Um . . .”
“I just never really pictured people from Iowa looking like you. Can’t tell if that’s me being closed-minded or if I never really thought about it, honestly.”
What?
What just happened?
Remy sees me blush, and now her smile is from ear to ear. Seriously, you could just pull off the rest of her head now from the top.
“Oh, wow. You’re blushing.” Milo turns to Remy. “People do that?”
I feel like the biggest hillbilly of all time. I feel two feet tall.
Remy leans in to Milo. “Don’t get too cocky. She’s smarter than you.”
Okay, this is just getting weird.
“So, Milo, are you going to the Fall Ball?” She says it like a dare.
“Definitely not.”
Silence. Somehow Milo feels maybe that was the wrong answer.
“Why, are you guys going?”
“Yes,” Remy proclaims.
“Then definitely yes.”
“Willa’s never been.”
“Ah. Then I envy her.”
“Um, what is the Fall Ball?” I could play it cool, but they know I don’t know.
Remy waves her hand around. “It’s like this ball to celebrate the harvest or whatever.”
“The harvest? So is it like . . . hay rides and apple cider . . . ?”
“More like fancy dresses and people puking.” Milo smiles.
“Puking?”
“Yes, everybody dresses up, everybody spikes the drinks, some people dance, some people frolic.”
“There will be frolicking?” I turn to Remy for confirmation.
“Oh, there will be frolicking.”
“Will we be frolicking?”
“Oh, we will frolic.”
Milo seems charmed by Remy. The way he’s looking at her. Wistful, in a way. There’s a magic here, between them, shaking electrons that keep bouncing back and forth, back and forth, trying to form something.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you guys there, then.”
“So you’re going, Milo?” She chides him.
“I’m definitely going. Maybe.”
And with that, Milo is definitely-slash-maybe out the door, leaving Remy and me to contemplate.
“Told you.”
“Told me what?”
“About Milo. And how he’s a stone-cold fox.”
“Right. I lost track. Is he going to the fall thingy?”
“Sixty percent with a chance of scattered maybes.”
“So you’re saying that Milo is as unpredictable as the weather.”
“I’m saying Milo is less predictable than the weather.”
We’re walking back now, heading through the front gates of Witherspoon and back to Pembroke. All the boys around wear the uniform, navy blazers with a coat of arms on the pocket, tan pants. They look over at us and quickly look away. They whisper to one another and look again.
All of a sudden they seem adorable. Not pale and blue-veined. But shy and sort of embarrassed. If I were queen of the world, I would make all boys wear that uniform. Seriously, there’s nothing more sweet on earth or in heaven than a big-eyed boy, carrying books, almost too skinny, in a navy blazer.
Adorkable. That’s what they are. And it’s possible I may have died in that audition and now this happens to be heaven.
“Is that why you broke up with Milo?”
“Broke up! What are you talking about, crazy? We’re just friends.”
“So, you never went out or anything? Not even a little?”
“No way. We’re too close for that.”
“Of course. Why would anyone want to go out with someone they were close to? Gross.”
She nudges me playfully with her elbow. “Oh, Iowa, you’re so cute. In some ways, you’re actually very traditional. I guess they can take the girl out of the farm but they can’t take the farm out of the girl.”
“Moooooo.”
“Is that supposed to be a cow?”
“Yes, Remy.”
“It sounds more like a ghost.”
“Maybe it’s a cow ghost.”
Remy and I are through the gray stone gates of Witherspoon, making our way over the cobblestones back to Denbigh. It starts to rain in little droplets, then big droplets, then cats and dogs, then a typhoon.
We are screaming like banshees and running through the rain and getting soaked. Soaked. Drenched. Annihilated.
By the time we get back to Denbigh, we might as well have just jumped in the ocean. We reach the front doors breathless and laughing, and everybody in the lobby is staring at us.
We look at them, they look at us, and that just makes us laugh more.
And, you know, this is the moment. Right here. If I could go back in time and stop everything. It’s right here. This feeling of everything hilarious and nothing bad and everything heart-shaped and shimmering.
What I would give to just stop the tape here.
But life isn’t like that. Life keeps unspooling. Whether we want it to or not.