There were just a few more weeks of school. Charmian was in my math class. For eight months she had been in the same class with me, making comments, asking questions, doing math problems on the board, and participating in class discussions and I hadn’t even noticed her. What lost time! When year book signing day arrived I was so shy and socially inept that I couldn’t even ask her to sign my year book. All I could do was watch her from a distance. And dream. I dreamed about dating her when we were older, about getting to know her, and about marrying her. Yes, the kid who told his mother that he didn’t care what girls thought of him was actually dreaming of marriage with one particular girl.
Eighth grade dawned with new promise. For the very first time I was somewhat excited that school was going to be back in session. I knew I would see Charmian again. That year she was in my band class. She played the flute. I still couldn’t think how to get to know her. But I knew she knew who I was. I was the kid who always missed the drum parts and who the band teacher was always chastising for missing them. I felt like a geek. At age fourteen I was.
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