I called her house as soon as I arrived home. 

(Yes, back then cellphones weren’t as ubiquitous as it was now. Landlines were still the norm, not the exception).

She was out. I asked when she was coming back. I was told not for a week. She was checking out the school she was going to. I was asked to leave my name and if I had a message. I gave my name and told the lady to just tell Rosie I called. Then I hung up.

—

I was alone at the school grounds the next week. Bethany was home, sick with the flu and Rosie was still not back from her trip. I was writing on my notebook, just catching up on schoolwork when someone nudged me from behind.

I turned around to see who it was. Rosie.

“I heard you called,” she said.

“Yeah. I wanted to say sorry for getting mad at you that night.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She sat beside me and leaned her head on my shoulders. Her hand rested just beside mine. I put my hand on top of hers and squeezed. She squeezed back.

We sat there not saying anything until the bell rang.

I stood up and helped her up off her feet.

“You know what, let’s skip school,” she said.

“What?” I asked, surprised. I’m normally the one who likes playing hooky. She was such a goody-two-shoes student I never expected her to be the one asking me to skip class.

“Let’s see a movie.”

So we did. Then we went out for ice cream and cotton candy. The whole afternoon, everything went back to the way it was, before Bethany and I became a couple. We were goofing with each other again, finishing each other’s sentences and just making jokes like we used to. That afternoon, I wished so hard I could capture those moments and put it in a bottle. I didn’t want the day to end. But it did. As we stood at the front of her house, as I was saying goodbye to her, I asked her “What did you mean that night?”

“Dex, today was really fun. Please don’t spoil it.”

Her eyes had that beseeching look that said “pretty please” that I wasn’t able to refuse her.

“Good night, Emma,” I said as I left.