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Monday at the Cafe
All my life, I had been waiting for something interesting to happen. Before today, I figured that 'love at first sight' was fake. Crushes come and go.
Damien, from the seventh grade end-of-year performance, had been quite a nice person to have as a dance partner, but he was nothing compared to this boy.
Even the cold condensation and smells that rose from my daily smoothies were unable to wake me from my trances. For minutes on end, I would watch, captivated, as he ordered his drink and sat down.
Great, I remember thinking last Monday, he's only a table away! Happily, I took out a pen and doodled on a napkin. I had no artistic talent or experience whatsoever, so his wavy hair ended up looking like an afro, and his nose looked a lot more pointier than it really was.
Just then, his order arrived; and being the idiot that I am, I leaned over to catch a glimpse of what it was- Oreo milkshake?- knocking over my mango smoothie in the process. Klutz, I scolded myself, you couldn't even put the lid on securely?
Laughter erupted from the table across from mine, and I finally noticed its occupants. "My goodness," chuckled one of them, "you might need some help."
"No thanks," I muttered, too busy searching for a napkin to form a proper response. "Oh, Meena," called their leader, a snobby little brunette named Lana. "Perhaps you should accept Tiffany's offer."
Quickly, I tossed the soaked napkins onto their table and rose from my seat. "Really, you could use some help, too, especially with your moral compass; it's broken beyond repair."
She sat there, stunned. Tiffany's mouth opened, as if she were about to say something, but she didn't; her comeback probably wasn't worth it. Understanding that I had won, I walked over and patted Lana's shoulder.
"Victory might be yours soon- I'll see ya tomorrow, darlings!" With as much sarcasm as I could muster, I flashed them all a smile and made for the door. "XIT," read the sign above it, due to the broken neon E at the beginning of the word, and I laughed despite how bad I felt.
Yeah, I felt really, really bad.
Zealously, I cast a glance at the boy with the Oreo milkshake, who was completely oblivious to my existence, but I knew he would be there the next day- and I would be there to watch him.
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Each sentence begins with the next consecutive letter of the alphabet. I tried to incorporate two (stereotypical) aspects of a middle school girl's life: a boy and a mean-girl group.