Speak Now.

My plan went a little something like this:

I'd strike up a conversation with Mike at least once a day, or whenever I saw him. That way he'd know I was alive. I mean, he knows I'm alive, but I want him to think of me as more than a friend. So I would talk to him every day and then, when the timing was right, ask him to the semi formal. It was worth a shot right?

In reality, it went a little something like this:

I'd get nervous every time I talked to him. He'd smile and I'd go weak at the knees. I've been crushing on him since January, added him to the list of boys I already liked, and decided he was my best shot at a date. The days went by and I'd miss chance after chance of asking him. I just couldn't bring myself to say the words. I'd freeze up the minute I'd decide to ask. My dress was picked out, my tickets were bought, but I couldn't get a date. How long was I going to wait until I could finally make a move? But the day before the dance arrived and it was too late. I hadn't asked him. I'd be going alone. But it was okay, I had my friends and we were determined to have a great time. We were going to be part of the few Grade 10s showing up, so it would be interesting. Some guys were bound to show up without dates right? And I'm sure one would be willing to spare a dance with me...

Valentine's Day. The day where everyone who's in love shows it to the entire world. I wear my red shirt and hope for something to happen even though I know it won't. During class, Dave says that there shouldn't be a special day to show your love. If you love someone, there should be no stopping you from giving them something. It was sweet and made my brain go haywire with thoughts, but I knew he was just making conversation. Maybe he hates Valentine's Day just as much as I do.

Night falls and I strap myself into my killer heels. My pink dress floats above them and my hair is dead straight like I planned. I've always been the type to do the opposite of everyone else. I have curly hair every day, so on special occasions I'd straighten it. We arrive, everyone dressed to the nines. Boys in tuxes and girls in high heels and we're all ready to dance. My shoes come off quickly, but my dress is too long and I keep tripping over it as I dance. So I suck it up and put my shoes back on, knowing my feet will kill tomorrow. Alex and I dance up a storm. We even try to fast dance to a slow song. We laugh and dance, knowing we don't need guys to have a good time.

But when the last slow song of the night comes on, I know I want to dance with a guy. It's my goal at every dance to dance with a guy or at least one song. I somehow feel accomplished if I do this. Looking around, I notice that Mike isn't here but my secret crush is. I make my way over to him and ask him dance, any nerves I've had before gone.

"Sorry, Jen, I was just about to leave. Next time, okay?"

"Ya, it's fine," I reply, smiling.

It is fine. I'll find someone else to dance with. And that's when I spot him, sitting at his table looking lonely and sad, like he wants to dance too. I've always been too nervous to ask him before even though we were really good friends. But this time, I just bite the bullet and ask him.

"Hey, Terry, do you want to dance?"

"Ya, sure."

And just like that I'm dancing with the one guy who's broken my heart. It always works like that doesn't it? Once you've stopped liking someone, that's when you can ask them, but no, not when you're in love with the guy! We dance softly like we've done it before. He doesn't talk about the fact that we haven't talked since the summer, or why we suddenly stopped being friends, but it's okay. We turn in circles and pretend there's something between us. I curl my hands around his neck and breathe him in, enjoying the moment. When the song ends, we part like it's nothing and I go back to my table.

"I'm so proud of you!" my friend Mysha exclaims as I settle in, getting ready to leave.

I won't lie, I'm pretty proud of myself too. Maybe I'll stop holding a grudge and say hi or smile when he does it to me next time.

We leave with our heads spinning and our laughter spilling out into the streets. I go to sleep giddy, ready for Monday so i can see Mike again, ready to talk to Dave again, and hoping to see Danny's boxers again. Maybe next year's semi will be even better.

Breathe.

Grade 10 is off to a good start. I avoid Terry like the plague but I don't miss him too much. There are too many other boys to think about.

Like the cute boy with dreads that sits a few tables away from me in art named Justin. Though my friends and I have taken to calling him PB & J. He wears plaid boxers that you can see when he sits down and it's all I can do not to want to jump him. He's the quiet type, focused on his art more than conversation in class. And he's a good artist, I mean, I wish I was that good. And I wish I could tell him how good he is, but he has this bitchy little girlfriend who gives me stink eye every time she catches me looking at him. I can't blame her, considering I probably undress him with my eyes in front of her.

In math class, I'm stuck with grad 9s because I went and failed it. Math does not need to exist in my life and I can't wait until I never have to deal with it again. But Danny makes math class tolerable. My plan was to just ignore all the niners around me and just pass math. But of course, I don't pay attention to anything the teacher talks about because I'm too busy writing and I'm also too busy looking at Danny. The day he asked me if he could borrow a pencil was the changing point. From that day on, I was hooked. Now, not only do I not pay attention to the teacher, but I also don't write as much because I'm too busy watching Danny. He's a little chubby and he's got curly black hair and whenever he smiles, I melt into my seat. My plan is to have a conversation with him outside of class before Christmas. Yes, I set small goals, but my shyness makes even the hardest difficult to accomplish.

Then, of course, there's Dave. Now Dave is different than the others. He;s in my history class but he failed so he's a year older than me. A grade 11 who I actually get to talk to. He is, as history says, the bee's knees. Like drop dead, resuscitate me and kill me again gorgeous. He's got the big three: Tall, Dark and Handsome. I linger close to him whenever I can and whenever he happens to flash me that smile, my heart speeds up and slows down all at once. And he's funny too. We're doing a project together (yes, I internally squealed) and everything that comes out of his mouth makes me laugh. He talks to me like I'm a normal person and surprisingly I can do the same back. He says hi to me in the halls and always flashes me that smile when he walks into class.

These boys keep me up at night. It's only the beginning of the year and I'm already obsessed with too many of them. I mean, there's more than just these three, like Mike and Matt, but I'll talk about them some other time. For now, I'm going to dream about PB & J's hair, Danny's plaid boxers and Dave's laugh. This will be the year of boys, I can tell. Maybe I'll even get to kiss one of them.

Stay Beautiful.

The summer I turned fifteen wasn't all bad. I didn't just pine over Terry day in and day out. Summer days were spent at Stef's cottage, soaking the sun and the sights. And by sights, I mean the Carusi boys. I'm not one to be very picky with boys, but these ones, well, they were perfection. Eric, the oldest, had the body of a surfer and a smile to make you weak at the knees. Rob, the younger brother, was cute in a different way. He seemed more approachable, less god-like, but I liked them both. And that summer was just the beginning of my Carusi phase.


It's a good thing my sunglasses are blocking my eyes because if Eric could see how I'm looking at him right now, he'd definitely have something to say about it. he gets out of the water soaking wet and my eyes travel down his glistening chest. His swim trunks look like they'll fall off at any minute and I'm embarrassed just thinking about it. I force myself to look away. I'm too young to be thinking about things like that.

"So, who wants to get on my Sea-Doo first?" he asks, his eyes skimming over all of us.

"Oh! Me!" I exclaim, jumping from my towel a little too quickly.

My friends laugh at me but Eric doesn't seem to notice that nervous wreck I've become. Eric makes his way back over to the water and I follow, trying to make sure my nest of curly hair doesn't look as bad as I think it does. I stop behind him, his bare chest inches from my face. I could just reach out and touch it, pretend I lost my balance or something. He turns before I can think twice about it.

"I'll get on first, keep it steady for you."

All I can do is nod because he's never been this close to me before. He slips down the stairs and onto the floating jet ski. His eyes meet mine and I wonder what he's thinking. There isn't much to look at. I'm skin and bones and trying to hide it under a tankini. But he smiles and starts up the engine.

"Ok, whenever you're ready. Use me for balance if you need to."

"Ok." And yes, I will use you for balance.

As gracefully as I can muster, I climb onto the jet ski, delicately placing my hand on his shoulder for "balance". Before I know it, I'm sitting right behind him and about to venture into the middle of the lake alone with him.

"Put your arms around me."

Don't mind if I do.

As I slip my arms timidly around his waist, he pulls away from the dock and we're gone. The wind whips through my hair and I laugh as the cottage disappears behind us. The feeling is incredible and I never want to go back to shore. We circle around and he shows me some sights that I haven't seen yet like the super tall diving board and the island in the middle of the lake. Too soon, we are back at the cottage and everyone else takes their turns. But when everyone else is done, he offers me another. I take it without question and I get to relive the feeling of his skin against mine, if only for a little while.

I don't get any moments like that with Rob. We laugh and joke together and I feel more comfortable talking to him. At one point we go tubing together and his tube lands on top of mine. He hugs me when we get off because he feels bad and the hug makes everything better. The summer ends too quickly and I know I won't see the boys again until the weather is warm enough to sun bathe again.


September arrives and it all seems like a dream. I take my experiences from the summer and try to be more confident when I step into school that first day. This will be the year. I will fall in love for real. I will have my first kiss. I am brave enough to make a move. I open the door to the school, Eric's face in my mind, and hold my head high, looking for my next crush.