a little bit

Things began becoming unbearable. All I could think about was this beautiful girl I fell in love with back in ninth grade and how much she has changed. School has sucked our time away like a black hole draws matter to it. The little time we had quickly became less, then less, then none. In addition, she spent all of her time with her friends, barely called me, and never talked for more than ten minutes.

I couldn't take it.

I called her and told her that I couldn't do this anymore. She told me she was busy and was doing Calculus. I don't think she ever knew how deeply I cared for her. Ever since she learned she could break up with me and I would take her back she has used it to her advantage and took me for granted. I tried to explain this to her, but she managed to turn all the blame back on me. So I told her it was over. She went back to her Calculus.

I promptly began crying and fell asleep. I loved her more than anything on Earth and I assumed she would be upset because I had just ended it. She wasn't. The worst part was, she would use it to her advantage. If I tried to spend time with her, she would say: "Zach, we are just friends now. You can't always be with me anymore."

I thought I made the rules now, after all, I was the one who ended it. I guess I figured wrong. I saw how she wanted it, so today I didn't even look at her for more than three seconds (with her knowledge), let alone talk to her. I really want her to know how good I was to her, and how much she was losing without me.

At the end of the day, I was talking with some people in band. Rachel was laying on the floor, looking hot (as per usual). I don't look at her, though. I go to the instrument room.

"Zach?"
It was Rachel. I walk over to her and casually say, "Yes?" My heart was racing one-million miles per hour.
"What is your problem today?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You have been ignoring me all day." She noticed. Good. "This is the first time you have talked to me today."
"Well, this is the first time you have talked to me today, too. We are friends, remember?"
"Yeah, but friends talk to each other."
"I suppose." I choke back tears.
"Your heart is breaking, isn't it?"

I remember the first time I ever held hands with a girl. I was a freshman, ninth grade, and I was on a school bus coming home from a football game with the band. Rachel was sitting next to me. We hardly talked on the trip to the game. We just sat there, hands in our respective laps. On the way back, however, I was far bolder. I sort of leaned up next to her, hands touching. I placed my index finger on the top of her hand. Any time the bus lurched or hit a bump, I would place my hand further into hers. In approximately five minutes, I had three fingers in her closed hand.

Oh yeah, I was suave.

Then she moved. I was dumbfounded! I quickly reverted to Plan B. I reached into my pocket and told her in a shaky voice: "I... I made this... for you." She took it and held it up into the moonlight.

It was a crude heart, fashioned out of a bit of copper wire and secured with duct tape.

"Oh Zachary!"

She grabbed my hand, fingers interlaced, and we held hands until our parents came to pick us up.

I managed a shaky smile.

"Just a little bit."