Ditto

Speak the words you cannot say, your larynx fails you when you catch sight of her. You can't help but laugh at every joke she tells even if it's about chickens crossing the road. Why don't you whisper sweet words you mean? Why don't you tell her how hard your heart beats. Why don't you try and make her understand that your world would crumble if she wasn't there? Who knows? She just might like you.

Paper balls are airborne and even worse, spit balls. Paper planes that make their way through the air sail past your head. What to do, what to do? You're sitting with your friends, playing a game of strategy, a game of chance, a game of logic, you're playing 'Battleships' wishing you could read your opponents mind. You smile, you've already sunken three ships and your competitor, one. Sitting by the window, you seem to glow, your coal black hair tousled as if you've just risen from bed. Your blue eyes sparkle, you know you won't be caught.

One of your classmates walks up to you. You've known her since freshman year, after all, you're all in one class, in a posh academy with grades higher than ninety percent of America's student population. She's cute, student council president, isn't she perfect for you?

She speaks your name and you roll your eyes. No, she's not the one you're interested in. A dare created by another classmate, one whose mental stability you highly doubt. That poem was written for you, professing her love in the name of a dare, a stunt created specially for your dear class president. You start to question her mentality as well. There she is, her legs are crossed, chuckling at your embarrassment. She finds it amusing that your face has turned red and you start moaning, "Oh, no! Oh, no!"

You look up at her and she smirks, challenging you as she peeks from behind her book. Her eyes slide back to her book and you're back to battleships. You start calling out random letters and numbers, even those that aren't valid. You're distracted but still you win, what a charmed life you lead. Quickly, you slip around the class, talking with people about subjects that don't matter, not even to you. You collect everyone's phone number, double check them. Then you reach her table. She's smiling to herself, her nose buried behind a thick book you care not about. She looks up, catching your eye.

"What?" she questions.

"Nothing," you shrug.

"So, how did you feel about that scenario?" A smile tweaks on her pink lips. "She does look cute with you."

Chuckling what you hope is your most melodious laugh, you reply, "Nothing, I didn't feel anything but-"

Now!

"I do need your details," you finish lamely, "I've gotten everyone else's."

Her smile is still there. She hands you a piece of paper. "I noticed," she said.

Her handwriting is messy but you don't quite care. Her friends are exchanging smiles behind the both of you and she notices.

"What?" she cries. "What?"

You hide your smile as you move again.

Chances lost: One.

You're standing in the gym and you catch a glimpse of her again. She's smiling as usual as she reads another novel, a thicker one this time. Her friends talk behind her and you know she's listening. You can't help but watch her, staring at her brown hair as strands fall from behind her ear. Irritably, she tucks her hair behind her ear again.

"Harrison!" one of your teacher's yell. "Help me spot for Group B."

She looks up at you and you smile at her. Furrowing her brows, she turns back to her book.

"Wright! Put down your book! You're up first!" Miss Doe bellows.

With a reluctant shrug, she sets the book beside her and takes a deep breath preparing to vault over.

Drawing in a deep breath, you watch her run and jump on the spring board executing a simple somersault move, she's going to land perfectly.

Wait, something's wrong, catch her fool! Catch her!

And you do...your panic is causing heavy breaths but you've caught her neatly. She's in your arms and you can feel her breath on you. Her eyes are closed and she's scared, you can feel it. She's heavy but you want her to stay.

"Thank you," she says between breaths. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," you reply.

Now?

"Watch your step next time," you say instead.

She nods, her cheeks flaming.

Is she embarrassed?

"I don't quite know what happened," she continues, her brows furrowed, "but I'm pretty sure you can put me down now, dear knight."

You're embarrassed.

"Your lover girl is up next," she adds, with an impish grin, "and her poem was nice."

You smirk. "Love is not one thing I feel."

"HARRISON!" your coach booms.

Chances lost: Two.

It's hot in the Social Studies room. Somehow your teacher has you partnered with the girl of your dreams. You, as the top student, are supposed to win it for her but you're distracted. She's jumping up and down leaping with the answers, some wrong, some right but you don't care. Do you? You answer when you feel her attention on you is fading. All the questions are useless, it's basic general knowledge you've known since you were a child.

Apparently, she knows them too.

"Ow!" she winces. Her leaping had gone out of hand and on her leg is a bruise the size of your fist. Her cheeks tinge with red. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she mutters.

You know she isn't.

Miss Harrington is concerned, her glasses are tilted in worry, terrified for her student. Her face is pallid and she's close to hyperventilating. "Vance, take her to the nurse please. Gabrielle, no protests."

Your heart is leaping and so is your stomach. There's a joyous celebration in nearly every body part. You just can't let her know. Of course, you know that you could have any other girl. Prettier, smarter, better, perhaps, but you don't want them, you want her. It is such a pity it's an unrequited love.

She winces with every step and Miss Harrington is close to fainting. "Carry her Vance, I don't want her to die on the way."

Shoots of jealous glares are aimed at Gabrielle and you feel a sudden urge to enclose her within your arms. She is scowling though and you remember that she hates to be considered a weakling. You sweep her off her feet with the most serious face you can muster, trying your hardest not to smile at your victory. One of your steps is unbalanced and she is forced to wrap her arms around your neck. Her face flushed and so is yours, your hall pass is clipped between two fingers as you make way to the nurse's office.

"I'm sorry," she mutters. "I guess I'm a klutz."

You manage a smile. "Nonsense," you smile, for that's the only thing you can seem to do around her. "I don't mind playing the knight in shining armour."

"So...are you sure you didn't like the poem?" she quizzes further.

You roll her eyes, she's blind, she can't see what you're feeling. Then, you realise she's human, her wide eyed naivete charming, with a slight hint of wickedness and mischief.

Mock-sighing, you smirk your famous smirk that makes many of the female population swoon. She doesn't budge, she's waiting for your answer. "How about this," you begin, "I'm going to define for you love and outline how you can tell if I liked someone? Then you figure out the rest."

She pays the utmost attention to your words, mentally deleting girls in your class from her list.

She has a grin on your face and you feel like whooping with joy. She gets it, she finally gets it and she might reciprocate your feelings.

"Marie," she proclaims. "Am I right?"

She looks so happy, much like a child but your spirits are dampened.

NOW!

"No," you whisper. You look straight into her questioning eyes, her mind scanning through her list again. "You."

Choking, she stares at you in disbelief.

"M-me?" she stutters.

Your world seems to crumble, forever will your first love seem unrequited.

Yet her face softens and your eyes meet, her pupils are widening and yours are too, searching her face for clues that she might actually care.

"Ditto," she mumbles, a smile glimmering on her features.

And now...

Fin