HOME RUN(BUT NOT THAT KIND)
As long as we’re on the good stuff, I’ll keep going.
Actually, it was more like a good news/bad news/good news kind of situation. First of all, I bumped into Jeanne Galletta right after school that Friday.
Like, actually bumped into her.
I had my head way down because the football team was just piling outside for practice again, and I wanted to look as un-Rafe-like as possible. Flip kept telling me not to worry so much about Miller, but Flip was Flip, and I was me. And Miller definitely had it in for ME.
Anyway, I was walking toward the bus, looking at my feet, when—BLAM! All of a sudden, I was bouncing off someone, stumbling back, and hitting the dirt.
Jeanne hit the dirt too. The way she looked, it was like she hadn’t seen me coming any more than I’d seen her.
“Rafe, I’m really sorry!” she said. “I wasn’t even paying attention.”
“Neither was I,” I said. “Are you okay?”
And then we both just laughed. Which was kind of awesome, for about 3.2 seconds. I was thinking it might be a perfect moment for Jeanne to realize that she was meant to be my girlfriend, and for the two of us to move away somewhere—far away, where nobody was “special,” and nobody got thumped in the chest just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Or even better… maybe we could go somewhere far, far away, where there were no middle schools. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about all those other problems either.
Yeah, that sounded pretty good. And maybe there could be a really cool beach too, where Jeanne and I could learn to surf together—
Jeanne waved her hand in front of my eyeballs, and I practically jumped.
“Huh?” I said. “I mean—sorry. What were you saying?”
“I just asked how your classes were going,” Jeanne said.
Oh, man! The one thing I didn’t want to talk to Jeanne about was how my classes were going. But before I could even change the subject, it got changed for me. That’s when I heard that familiar voice, calling out behind me.
“Yo—KhatchaDORKian!”
Miller the Killer was closing in fast. I don’t know what he had in mind, but I didn’t want to find out either. So between that, and Jeanne asking all the wrong questions, I knew it was time to go.
“SeeyaJeannegottago,” I said.
And then I ran. Like, really ran. Right past the buses, out onto Sylmar Avenue, and up the street headed for home.
Because you know how it is, right? Sometimes you have to hold your ground. Sometimes you have to face your fears.
And other times? You just feel like running.
So that’s exactly what I did.
