TURNING off his bedside lamp, David lay his head on his pillow and decided that tomorrow he’d ask Isabella out. Tomorrow, he vowed, he’d stop dithering about like that Hamlet loser they’d been studying, and approach her after class. ‘Hey,’ he’d say, as casually as he could, ‘you want to hang out some time?’ Numerous things could happen after that, he reasoned, but there, in the dark, he became fixated on just two. One, she’d give him a withering up-and-down and say, ‘As if!’ Two, she’d blush and say, ‘Yes.’ He wasn’t sure which scenario scared him most.