HAGS

All Grace had written in his yearbook was a name.  Harold.

It was nice--well what had been nice?  Getting to know him?  But Grace hadn’t gotten to know him.  Unless memorizing his schedule and the pattern he twirled his pencil in counted, but she was fairly sure that didn’t count as anything but creepy.

Well I don’t really know you, but I’ve appreciated the back of your head-- no that would never work.  What was she after, a restraining order?  Did they give restraining orders to minors? Think, she told herself. Harold had finished signing her yearbook three minutes ago.  He was beginning to shift his tennis-shoed feet, looking anywhere but at her as she sat, Sharpie in hand trying to come up with something worth writing and reading.  The whole semester she had been trying to flush out words that wouldn’t flow.

So I don't go in for emotions much. I'm busy. I mean I know that you are too. But I'm not good with emotions. I don’t understand them so they scare me and I'm not sure what the point is.

And what's worse is that I know that this is all one sided.  There's no point to me saying a thing bc I know you don't care.

I hate this. I feel so pathetic. It’s disgusting. Really.

You don’t disgust me. That's good. It makes me hate you a little though.

For a moment she thought that she could write that, but she didn’t.  No that was too honest, nobody wants you to be that honest, Grace.   

“Sorry,” she laughed, twisting the cap on the marker.  He shrugged, glancing around, counting the signatures he still had to collect.  His tennis-shoes rocked back and forth.  He didn’t understand what was taking her so long.  

Random thoughts began flashing before her. Four score and--if you give a pig a--one fish two--when in the course of human events--the name is--no none of them were right, none of them fit the situation at all.  Something clever, something new, something red and white and blue, think Grace.

But she couldn’t.  

“Hey Harold, can I sign your yearbook?”  A blonde boy with a name like Daniel or David called across the class.  Harold glanced at Grace, frowning.

“She has it.”  

“Okay after?”  Harold nodded.  Grace blushed and muttered another apology into the pages.  Realizing that she was becoming a nuisance she wrote, in large round letters, “We should talk more.  See you next year.” and her name.  

As he walked off towards Daniel/David, she snatched her yearbook from the desk and flipped to where he had signed it.  HAGS.  He hadn’t even bothered to write out “have a great summer.”

When Grace raised her head and saw the smiling classroom, it seemed to her that she was the source of their entertainment.

tsarina