The message was one of despair, of loss, of cruelty, and of many more words that fit that same category, it simply said, “Hey Conner, I don’t want this to be awkward or anything, but I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

Conner’s cries echoed in that room for the next two days, no amount of ice cream, cookie dough, or cheezy romantic comedies could ease his pain. Mira was gone, and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t beg, he couldn’t fight, there was no way to reclaim her, and he could only see himself to blame.

Perhaps if he hadn’t hidden, maybe if the poem hadn’t been so desperate, maybe she would have gone out with him.


Monday rolled around, and the bus rolled on to the street. He would be strong though, he wouldn’t show any weakness, he would be the coolest kid in school. Like that would ever happen. Conner refused to cry, but not once did he crack a smile that day. It seemed as though the entire school knew of his failure. He recieved pats on the backs and “Good trys” from some of the guys, but it was mainly just laughs.

The week began to fade, but the whispers never did, some day they would drive him crazy. Wednesday passed like Tuesday, and Monday before it, however, there was one slight difference. Conner was lounging in the hall, reading a book and trying to take his mind off of Mira, when an average girl with glasses, freckles and an armload of books tripped over his biology homework. Pages flew everywhere, a pencil nearly impaled Conner’s hand as a textbook crushed his toes.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried, picking up pages and books, “are you all right?”

Conner bent down and helped her pick up her belongings, “I don’t think anything’s missing, you O.K.?”

She smiled, “Everything’s here.” she took a double take, “Hey, you’re the kid who asked Mira out, aren’t you?”

Conner caught his breath, “ Yeah, that’d be me.”

“What did she say?”

It was a moment before Conner could answer, “Apparently she thought it wouldn’t work out.”

The girl finished picking up her things and stood back up, “I’m Lilly,” she told him, “sorry to hear that, I thought your poem was great, and I know I would have said yes.”

Conner just stood there a moment, then smiled, then shot out of his shoes as the bell screamed at him that it was time to go to class.

“Hey, I’ll talk to you later,” Lilly said, “Do you have a Facebook?”

Conner picked up his Biology, “Yeah, talk to you later.”


“What just happened?” Conner thought, “am I seriously that lucky?” U.S. History was all lectures, so he had plenty of time to think. “Lilly... She was actually kind of cute in a way. The long brown streams of hair framed her face with a kind of fluid beauty. She wasn’t stunning, but the freckles on her face mirrored the stars, her dark green eyes reminded him of the forest, and her pinkish lips were the color of a midsummer sunset. She was sweet too, not cruel, not teasing, just sweet, like a whole grain cracker, pleasent, gentle, and it went well with a little bit of cheezy poems. Perhaps Mira hadn’t been a total waste of time after all.