Fine-tune the balance between predictability and the great unknown. You’ll be glad you did.
I like schedules. Cherise says I enjoy order to my day because I am a disciplined Virgo. I say I like schedules because they help me stay focused on the important things in life.
Now that I’m officially in a relationship, I can easily see how hanging out with Adam might cut into my school and homework time. According to Jennifer and Tanisha, I moved from “dating” to “relationship” on Saturday night. When they came over to sew Sunday, I filled them in. They assured me that the party invite was a positive step forward, not a setback. It was then that Jennifer declared my new “relationship” status.
A relationship, huh? Well, that changes things. Don’t get me wrong, I want to hang out with Adam. I really like him. I just have to figure out how to fit him into my already busy life. I still can’t afford to lose even one fraction of a point off my GPA. And so, in order for this relationship with Adam to work without getting in the way of my scholarship dreams, I have created the following agenda:
6:00 a.m.: My alarm goes off. Press snooze.
6:15 a.m.: Get up. Shower. Get dressed.
6:30 a.m.: Eat breakfast with my father.
6:50 a.m.: Brush teeth. Put on shoes. Gather books.
7:00 a.m.: Leave for school.
7:30 a.m.: School.
1:50 p.m.: Ten-minute progress meeting with Jennifer and Tanisha re: costumes.
2:00 p.m.: Meet Cherise (and Tyler, of course) at the Corner Café for a snack.
3:15 p.m.: Work at tuxedo shop.
5:45 p.m.: Dinner with my father.
6:45 p.m.: Do homework with Adam. Really.
9:00 p.m.: Sew costumes for prom.
12:01 a.m.: Sleep.
I typed up the schedule on my computer and made multiple copies. One to tape on my mirror, one to keep in my purse.
I made a third copy and gave it to Adam. Being the understanding guy he is, Adam totally agreed to help me stick to the program as best as he could. He’s going to walk with me in the hallway between classes, eat with Cherise and me (and Tyler, of course) at lunch, and then meet me back at the apartment to study after his swim practice ends. This way, we get loads of time together and I can effectively manage my days as well.
Supportive. Yet another one of Adam’s finer points. He didn’t even laugh at my organizational neuroses or sarcastically call me “Virgo freak,” like Cherise did. Then again, after she stopped laughing, Cherise did help me go to the storage closet in the basement of our apartment house to get my mom’s old sewing machine.
To make this schedule work, I needed to set up the machine in my bedroom so I could stay up late doing costumes. Since I am still on crutches, Cherise carried the machine for me.
Having made all the necessary arrangements, my alarm goes off at precisely six a.m. Monday morning. As I reach over to hit the snooze button, I fall back asleep knowing that I am on the proper path to personal and academic success. That’s my last thought before my father wakes me up at seven fifteen to let me know I’m going to be late for school if I don’t get going.
My very first day with a new schedule and already, I’m flying out the door with no shower, no breakfast, and mismatched socks.
Then there’s the doctor. When I made the schedule, I’d totally spaced that I had an appointment to get my stitches out Monday afternoon. I’m sitting at the Corner Café with Cherise and Tyler when I realize my mistake. Cherise drives me over in her mom’s car, but can’t stay. I have to wait at the doctor’s, so I’m even later than I would have been to work at the tux shop, which throws off studying with Adam.
The bright spot in this fiasco is that Adam’s swim practice ends early so he agrees to pick me up at the doctor and take me to the shop. My growing list of great things about Adam includes the fact that he has his own car. Wahoo.
Walking is my life, unless I have somewhere far to go, then my father believes in the “many merits” of the public bus system. Cherise usually likes riding the bus with me for environmental reasons, but is willing to beg her mom for keys to their hybrid sedan whenever we are desperate.
When Adam drops me off at work, (crutch free!), he reminds me of another thing I’d forgotten when I made my schedule: Tonight’s our monthly astronomy club meeting.
A day that should have been well ordered, has fallen completely off track. To fit all the pieces in, I do my homework at the shop while I hem, then eat a peanut butter sandwich in my room while I cut trim for Jennifer’s and Tanisha’s costumes. By nine, I’ve got it all done and am ready to go to the astronomy club meeting.
“Can I help carry your telescope?” Adam asks when he shows up at my door, admirably prompt as ever. Adam oozes a calm that makes me feel better after the chaotic day I’ve had. He’s already carrying his telescope bag on his shoulder so I tell him I can manage my own.
“I’ll take your tripod, then,” he says, picking up my prized three-legged telescope stand and tucking it under his arm. Then, in a spontaneous move, Adam leans in and kisses me lightly on the lips.
This kiss is definitely better than the last one. We’re making progress. And you know what will be even better? When we kiss under the stars after astronomy club. Perfect guy, perfect night, that’s where we’ll have the perfect kiss. I know it. The toes-tingling, ultimate kiss must be coming soon. It has to be, right?
Even though I said I could manage, Adam continues to insist he’ll carry my telescope, too. I finally give up and let him.
I’m the proud owner of a Hartforde EGH-80DD Observatory Telescope. I bought the telescope and tripod over the summer with my tuxedo shop earnings. I saved for two whole years to purchase this baby. And I mean saved. My thrift-store fashion began when I first saw the telescope in the window of a nearby camera shop. I knew I’d need to cut my spending somewhere and since there was no way I was giving up the Corner Café, department store clothes went first. Theater movies disappeared second, and my love for old flicks kicked into high gear since those are always available on cable. Jewelry, cosmetics, and other frivolous items were all sacrificed in the name of the Hartforde EGH-80DD.
Adam’s telescope is also a Hartforde model, newer and even fancier than mine, but that doesn’t bother me. Adam got it for his birthday from his grandparents. I’m satisfied that I earned my telescope with my own sweat and blood—literally, since I occasionally stab myself when hemming pants.
This Hartforde telescope is an amazing piece of astronomical technology. The 80mm objective lens is so powerful that the high-resolution images appear bright and flawless. An Autofar Computer Controller system guides my eye, helping me to quickly discover about three thousand preprogrammed celestial objects, automatically separating the stars from the satellites. A specialized motor compensates for the Earth’s rotation, making tracking objects easy.
I could go on and on about the flip-mirror, eyepieces, the built-in lens, the tripod with bubble level indicator, and the reminder alarm for astrophotography applications, but I wouldn’t want to become a bore.
“Hey, Sylvie,” Melanie greets me as Adam and I enter the park. Melanie is the daughter of Mrs. Kelsow, our astronomy teacher. She’s a sophomore at our high school. I introduce her to Adam.
They have a quick conversation filling each other in on the basics of their lives, then we all get down to the serious business of stargazing. There are fifteen students in the astronomy club and we all gather around while Mrs. Kelsow gives a short lesson about black holes.
Then we break up to see what we can see. Mrs. Kelsow comes by periodically to help if we need it. Adam and I are basically on our own.
First, we look for black holes, then I show Adam the Great Red Spot on Jupiter. Deftly using a chart to guide him, Adam finds an asteroid. I locate a star cluster knows as the Pleiades. Ironically, Adam points out one of Neptune’s eight moons and mentions how high it appears in the sky. “It will be even higher on Saturday,” he tells me, causing me to nearly choke on my own tongue.
Could it be that Saturday night is the night he’ll ask me to the dance? Now I’m thinking like Cherise. I’ve got to stop that! When he asks, he asks. (If he asks, that is.) Neptune’s moon will have nothing to do with it. Of course, now, you can’t stop me from wondering about Saturday.…
When club time’s almost over, Adam takes one last look through his telescope while I’m scoping out the park for the best location to make out. There’s an open area over to the left away from the other astronomy club members. No trees will block our view of the evening sky. As we walk by on our way home, the mood will be just right and that’s where it’ll happen.
“I had a good time tonight,” Adam tells me. We are getting closer to my goal and I’m getting a bit nervous. I’m not the type to make the first move. I wish I was, but I can’t. I’m new to all this and simply don’t have enough courage. So, I’m hoping that if I plan things right, Adam will seize the moment and sweep me into his arms like his namesake, Prince Charming.
I take a couple more steps, then stop.
“Adam,” I say breathlessly, turning to face him and stepping in closer.
“Yeah?” he asks. Clearly, he isn’t clued in to my seduction.
I’m trying to look as sexy as I can: half-drooped eyelids, pouty lips, cheeks sucked in. I thrust my chest forward because, well, guys like girls with fuller breasts, right? Nature has deprived me, so to make a show of my A cups, I’m standing in a near backbend. I’m lucky I haven’t tipped over backward.
“What’s up?” Adam asks. He’s not getting the vibe. I’m going to have to say something.
“I—I thought …,” I stutter. “I wanted …” Oh, damn. I’m just going to have to act. I stand back up, bringing my chest back to normal, and take another step forward.
I lean in, then retreat.
I’m a chicken.
Thankfully, Adam’s finally clued in. His lips part slightly as he closes the distance between us. The telescope bags he’s carrying slip to the ground. In an amazing gymnastic feat, Adam both sets down my tripod and secures the lip-lock.
He slips his arms around me. I slide my hands around him only to have him suddenly break away.
“I nearly forgot to give you something,” Adam tells me, stepping back and bending low over his own telescope bag.
“A present?” I ask. It seems rather early in our relationship for gifts, but if Adam wants to give me a present, who am I to turn it down?!
He hands me … a magazine. I take a step back, more fully into the moonlight. No, it’s a college catalog. And a scholarship application form.
I gaze at Adam inquisitively.
“UCLA,” he says, taking the catalog from me and opening to a page with the corner turned down. “I want you to take a look at their premed program.”
“Why?” I ask, flipping it open. There’s a small photo of a woman at a chem lab table, holding a test tube.
“I just thought,” he points out another photo on that page of kids walking on the Los Angeles beach, “astronomy’s a nice hobby. But it’s not a career. You’re so smart.” He smiles warmly. “Maybe even smarter than me.” Adam winks. “Have you ever considered becoming a doctor?”
“No,” I honestly reply. “I like astronomy. It’s always been astronomy.”
“Astronomy’s okay,” he says, “but you could change the world.”
“Galileo, Copernicus, flash forward to Carl Sagan, even Mrs. Kelsow, they changed the world,” I counter defensively, feeling as if we might be at the cusp of our first fight.
When I was at lunch with Tyler, he asked me what I want. I’m oddly grateful to Tyler for pushing me. I’ve been thinking about it ever since he raised the question. I want to be an astronomer. More than ever.
“Why astronomy?” Adam asks and thanks to Tyler, I have a good answer ready.
“Astronomy is about not feeling alone in the universe. Studying the stars combines math with beauty and poetry. It’s an exact and predictable science all about comprehending the incomprehensible,” I passionately tell Adam. I’ll tell Tyler the same thing next time I see him. I have a feeling he’ll be proud to know I figured it out for myself. (Now, I just have answer why it has to be at Yale and nowhere else. Is it enough to go there because my mom did? I’m not sure … but I’m going to figure that out, too.)
I assume Adam will also admire that I’m able to verbalize such a clearly defined reason, but when I’m done, he replies, “You’d have fun in California. We might even see each other around school!” And at that, he gathers me back into his arms and kisses me hard on the mouth.
See each other around school? Doesn’t he mean be together at school? Like boyfriend and girlfriend together?
Hmm.
This is not exactly how I imagined things going tonight, but honestly, I don’t feel like thinking about the future anymore. I planned this kiss beneath the stars and I’m going to enjoy it.
Eagerly, I tip my face up to his and allow him to kiss me more fully. His mouth is soft and warm and I melt into the sensation. As I change direction, trying to find that magic kissing spark, my mind races and I tell myself that Adam didn’t mean to offend me. He thinks I’m smart and simply wants to help me reach my full potential. If I went to UCLA we’d be together for sure. It makes sense, since we’re together now.
When we get back to my apartment, I thank him for the UCLA catalog and tell him I’ll look at it. And I will. I mean, since he went out of his way to get the catalog for me, I might as well take a quick glance through it.
Adam kisses me one more time before he leaves. It’s tender and slightly more than pleasant. I hold him tight and when the time comes, I feel reluctant to say, goodnight.
Like the star cluster Pleiades, our relationship isn’t shooting or soaring, but is a constant, continuing to shine brightly.
I’d have kept to my new official schedule on Tuesday, if Adam’s swim practice hadn’t run over. Apparently, the coach had a cow about losing Saturday’s meet and made the whole team stay late to review an Olympic technique known as “the breath every two” for an extra hour. By the time Adam finishes, he’s too tired to do homework. He says he doesn’t want to give up the whole evening with me (which, of course, made my heart skip a beat) so, during the almost three hours normally programmed for homework, he comes over to watch television. I have to hustle to finish my assignments before he arrives, but I’m certain it’s going to be worth it.
We channel-surf for a while, when Adam suddenly cheers, “My favorite movie!” He sets down the remote and settles back into the sofa.
The movie is a horror flick that came out last year. I didn’t see it, well, because I’d never pick a horror movie. Ever. I saw one once when I was younger and still sleep with a night-light because of it (that’s a secret, okay?). Adam’s been so great about doing things I like to do, even spending most of his lunch period with me and not the swim team, I suppose that watching this film is the least I can do.
It’s not so bad. Adam holds me during the scary parts and when the film ends, we make out on the couch, until my father interrupts by stomping down the hall. I was grateful that he warned us of his presence since Adam’s hand was creeping up my shirt. We jumped back into our own seats and when my father started puttering about in the kitchen, taking his own sweet time to make a snack, Adam decides to take off.
Oh, well. It was past time for me to get to sewing anyway.
After Adam leaves, I’m wound up and a tiny bit scared. Another twenty minutes is spent checking in my closet and under the bed for spooky things and when I finally start to sew, my heart isn’t in it. I end up falling asleep over Jennifer’s nymph wing, my head on a folding table I’d set up for cutting material. I wake up at three a.m. with a lacy imprint embedded in my right cheek. All in all, even though the schedule failed, it was another good evening. I even think the kissing is getting better. And I definitely would have let him go up my shirt if my father hadn’t come into the room.
Wednesday’s right on schedule until nine p.m., when my sewing machine dies. I’d barely started working when the thing conked out. Now I’m at a place where there’s nothing more I can do on the costumes, unless I want to sew by hand, (which I don’t) so I surf the Web and talk to Cherise by Instant Messenger instead. Then, at exactly 12:01 a.m., I go to bed.
Thursday morning I wake up, more determined than ever to stick to my schedule. What’s the use of making a schedule if you can’t stick to it? Even for one day! I’m going to get back on track and maintain my scholarship focus by adhering to the timetable I’ve so meticulously prepared. Those counselors at Yale will be extra impressed when they see my stellar grades, especially if they hear that that I kept those grades up and had a boyfriend at the same time. The science scholarship will soon be mine!
Thursday’s the day I’m going to prove to myself that the schedule works … and it does. I’m on track, right up until the moment that Cherise coerces me into getting my palm read by some wacky psychic.