Vocabularily Adventurous

Brooke wrote to her mother, finished her French assignment, tidied her desk, folded the laundry she did last week, swore off potato chips, and made a long list of New Year's resolutions that she fully intended to keep this time. Normally she was only half as productive, usually less. But she vowed never to let anything go by the wayside, always to keep her promises, and never to doubt again, filled with something like ecstasy because Aaron had kissed her.

That is, she imagined he had. She imagined that he had walked up to her in the cafeteria and taken the serving spoon out of her hand and let it fall with a dull smack back into the mashed potatoes, and she imagined that he had knocked her plate out of her hand and never flinched when it hit the floor and shattered into seven oddly-shaped, spinach-covered pieces, and immediately after in front of all the students and their half-eaten chicken and mostly-full glasses of Dr. Pepper he had pulled her to him like an ottoman and kissed her. And there were fireworks and a mariachi band and all the ice cubes melted because of the heat of his embrace, and all the cookies trudged away because even they couldn't compete with the sweetness of this moment. And Aaron tasted like engineering major, just as she had supposed.

She also imagined that the moment he let her go he pulled out his wallet and gallantly paid for the broken plate, then and there, because that's what knights in shining armor do.

Brooke decided that moments of epiphany like the one she had just experienced call for incredible productivity, because the energy won't expend itself. Didn't matter that she had invented the whole scenario--hope was more than enough. She half-ran to the post office, grinning and panting and remembering.

Julia met her there, though she hadn't planned it. Usually Brooke would fall into her lap without Julia expecting it, and that's why they had to be friends.

Brooke mailed off her mother's letter and coyly alluded to her moment with Aaron. Julia frowned.

Quite suddenly, Aaron was there. In person, not a character in the poorly-written fiction piece in Brooke's head. Brooke stared, terrified that he might actually talk to her. Julia knew she shouldn't be worried.

Aaron nearly shoved Brooke out of the way to mail his letters, and as he did she found courage stashed away somewhere near her feet.

"Hi, Aaron."

Aaron looked at her and raised an eyebrow and snorted a little and left. His friend followed, and five feet away they burst into laughter.

Brooke stood still and pondered this until Julia smacked her across the face. Brooke's eyes got wide, and then she smiled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"He really is a dick, isn't he?"

"He really is."

Brooke hiked her purse further onto her shoulder and sighed. "Same time tomorrow?"