Free Crush by Laura Susan Johnson

eyes up and insists, “Well, I think you’re adorable.”
My eyes are now fastened to the pots and pans in the box in front of me. I’m paralyzed. I can sense Stacy grinning at me. I silentlywarn her to stop it.
When theywalk away, Stacysqueals, “Tammywas looking at you!”
“Oh, please,” I snort.
“He was smiling at you, kind of.”
“He was pissed!”
“Yeah, he looked like he wanted to haul off and smack Yvette! I think he likes you!”
I give a dismal laugh. “Get real.”
“I was watching him, Jamie! He had this goofylittle smile on his face, and his eyes were on you the whole time!”
“You’re full of shit. He was probablysmiling at Yvette’s nastyass crack!”
Ignoring the probable double meaning of what I’ve just said, Stacy argues, “Why?! Why do you think it’s so impossible? You’re beautiful!”
“No, I’m not.”
“You really have no idea. You’re gorgeous. Even that girl thinks so!”
“She was making fun of me!”
“ Listen to you!”
“Just stop!”
“I think he likes you, Babe.” She’s resolute.
“Whatever.” I look up from the box of pots just in time to see Tammylooking over his shoulder at me as Lard-Ash pulls him by his arm to her car. I ignore my rising panic and force myself to keep myeyes on him, scanning his divine face for anyhint. I think I see something, but I can’t trust myown eyes.
That evening, I trynot to dwell on Yvette’s mocking words. I try not to analyze what I saw in Tammy’s eyes when they met mine before he got into the car and rode away.
I know all about that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” crap. I don’t want to hear about it. I wouldn’t believe him if he did come up to me and tell me he loves me, that I’m beautiful.All I see is ugliness when I look in the mirror. All I see is Mom and Daddy.
Another new year. We go to The End each Thursday, and one night Tammygets up with Ray and Benny Feldman to sing “I Only Have Eyes For You.” His deep, gravelly voice (Ohmygod!) leaves me melting with desire and dissolving into anguish. He’s singing to Lard-Ash, and I despise her, sitting there winking and blowing kisses at him.
Eventually, they break up, but that’s no consolation. He already has another bimbette at his beck and call. I’ll never have him. I have to face it. And I try to tell myself to forget about him. I reallytry.
But it’s in vain. I’m in love, and knowing he’s infinitely off limits to me doesn’t stop me from desperatelywanting him.
    The approaching pink and red romance of Valentine’s Day makes myfeelings for him intensify. I’m going to explode if I don’t do something, so I buyhim a card. It takes up all mystrength as I carefully pour my heart out to him. I want to sign it, but I’m not stupid. Nothing will come of this. He’ll believe it’s from one of his female fans and I’ll scratch my itch. Nobody will be harmed. I excuse myself from last period to go to the restroom, and I leave it on the windshield of his car.
    Two days later, I find a beat-up white envelope in my locker. No note, no card, just three conversation hearts.
You’re sweet.
Love me.
My love.
They’re probablyfrom Lydia. Poor thing.
But I keep them.
    The next months are painful as I begin to realize that soon he will be graduating and I won’t be seeing him around school next year. I try to savor every moment I can, but dashes of bitterness begin to taint. One day I hear a couple of girls talking about him, describing how he’s slept with everyeasygirl in school and is now working on those from surrounding schools. Of course, I knew all along, deep down, but hearing it from those girls...I wait until I get home to cry.
    And the hits keep coming. One morning Stacyconfides in me that she and Ray have had sex. It hits me hard, and I flee to the restroom and have a bizarre panic/crying attack.
I’ve been left alone in a dark forest.
    All myfriends, all the people who claim to care about me are leaving me behind.
I’m so afraid