Church Story, Part 2

You may wish to read Part 1 first.

I decided that goofy would be the appropriate approach. On one particularly busy Wednesday evening, the services were over and everyone was packed in the gym. The adults were eating something in the kitchen, the kids were on the basketball court, running around and trying not to step on any nail-laden boards stacked near the walls.

I was sweating profusely and decided to wrap a t-shirt around my head. I looked, at the very least, stupid. But I was trying to be brazen, I was trying to act like I didn't care.

"You certainly look cool," Jennifer's mother said. She was referring to my temperature, undoubtedly.

"Thanks," I said. I tried to spy for her daughter. Where was she?

I went outside in the cool spring breeze. The Easter show was going to occur in April, close to the date of the actual event. It was sundown and the piercing sunlight made everything hard to see.

I saw some friends of mine and chatted them up. By the time I returned, Jennifer was sitting on one of the metal fold-out chairs in the gymnasium. Her mother had, thankfully, disappeared elsewhere.

My heart began beating rapidly as I saw her. I began to think of what to say.

I sat down behind her.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," she said, not turning.

"Like my hat?" I said, trying to get her to look somewhere other than her hands.

She turned and giggled. But said nothing else.

"Having fun?" I tried. God, I thought, now's about the time I need some help.

"I guess," she said.

I had told Travis about my crush. He told me to go for it. I told him I would try.

Now was that time.

"I ah...I'd like to call you sometime," I said. My throat magically made all of my saliva disappear in an instant.

The silence between us hung in the air. I took off the stupid t-shirt and ran my hand through my hair.

My heart beat in my chest, thump thump thump.

She looked at me for a moment, then reached for her purse. She took out a pen with pink ink and scribbled down her number. Like mana from heaven.

She gave me the post-it note, and I handled it as if it were glass--no, more fragile. As though it were a dry leaf, sure to crumble in my fingers.

"Don't call after nine, my mom won't let me accept any calls after then."

"Okay," I said. Another long silence followed it. "Thanks," I said finally. "See you later."

"See you," she said.

I then tried my best not to skip my way back outside, where I could share the good news.

Of course, I never realized that a phone number could get me in such trouble. But we'll speak of that tomorrow.

Read Part 3.

And I don't know where to look
My words just break and melt