my dreaded dentist appointment.
I don’t know what elevator you’ve been riding on, but this
is pure magic. THIS is what floating inside a love boat on
the serene sea of soulmates feels like.
A love boat, dude . . . soulmates? What is going on? Are
you in . . .
Love? I could be. Divya likes me, man.
Congratulations.
She really likes me. She laughed like a songbird at my
brilliant wit, and her velvety violin of a voice soothed my
nerves as soon as we got on the phone. I think it went
really, really well. My first phone date . . .
Your first date, period.
We made a connection. And that’s what’s important. Looks
like one of us had a successful night.
Whatever.
So back to your art . . .
Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe I do suck.
You know what you need to do. You need to listen to the
song. Really listen to it. Again. And again. So, close your
eyes and tap into the rhythm of the song. Escape into it,
float away on the—
Wave, yeah, I get it already, I say, not ready
to admit that
the rhythmic guitar
and the smooth piano
and the soft drums
and, yeah,
the waves,
are kinda refreshing.
Searching
I look for Sam
all over
school,
but she’s not in any
of her usual spots.
I reluctantly
walk up
to Cruz,
who’s standing
in the hallway
with his baseball buddies.
Hey, Cruz, do you know where Sam is?
He shrugs
his shoulder,
winches
his face
like he doesn’t know
and doesn’t care,
then turns his back
and starts talking
and laughing
like I was never
even there.
MIA
Sam is nowhere to be seen.
Walt doesn’t know.
She’s not in class.
Not in the usual hallways.
Not in the cafeteria.
Not outside her locker.
Not in school.
Vanished.
Maybe she knows.
Maybe she got my latest
and she hates it.
Maybe she hates me.
Text to Sam
2:12 pm
Sam, are you okay?
Walt and I are worried. Please
holla back ASAP.
Text from Sam
5:37 pm
NOAH, CALL ME! IT’S
AN EMERGENCY. I CAN’T
BELIEVE THIS HAPPENED!
What Happened Was
You okay, Sam?
No. I hate Cruz, she says, between tears.
What happened? What did he do?
He said we were going on a date and he took me to
McDonalds, which I told him I hated—and how could
he not know that after we’ve been going out for this long?
Then he called me stuck up, and we started arguing right
there in the middle of McDonalds. Then he said he needed
a break.
A break?
He broke up with me.
. . . .
I told him things were moving too fast.
. . . .
Then he kirked off, said I was teasing him along.
I’m sorry, Sam.
I just hate him, she says, still sobbing.
You want me to come over?
I want ice cream.
I can bring you some.
Meet me at Dairy Queen. One hour.
How about I bring you Breyers?
That’s fine. Just hurry.
I throw my clothes on
quicker than Clark Kent
turning into Superman,
run downstairs,
see Walt
passed out
with smooth jazz
as his lullaby.
I grab my car keys,
quietly head out
the door
for my date
with ice cream
and destiny.
Mayhem
On my way
into the convenience store
to get ice cream
for Sam,
a police officer stops me,
starts asking
if I saw anything.
A UPS truck driver
comes by, says,
He was a white guy,
big and scary-looking,
with a lot of hair, but
he was short
and he ran fast,
though he could have been
black, but I think
he was white.
An older woman
is crying,
pointing to
her groceries
on the ground.
He was tall
and scary, like
a giant, and he
knocked over
my bag,
but he stopped
and started helping me
pick everything up. Then
we heard sirens
and he ran away.
YEAH, I SAW HIM,
I SAW HIM,
a man in glasses
says frantically
to the police officers.
HE WAS TALL, MAYBE
BROWN, MAYBE TAN
IN THE FACE, AND HE
LOOKED LIKE HIM,
he continues,
pointing to the UPS driver,
and getting angry
’cause the police
won’t let him remove
the dozen
or so
miniature flags
behind the wipers
on his car windshield.
Calm down, one of the officers says.
He was putting the flags on my car,
and he was screaming.
I don’t know who
he was screaming at,
but when he saw me,
he ran. He ran fast,
like his feet were
on fire.
Did you see anything? one
of the officers
asks me.
No, sir, I say, tasting the sweat
dripping down
my face.
I just got here.
He went that way, says a raspy voice I recognize.
I turn around
to see the old man
with the trumpet
pointing to the sky.
He flew, like a bird in the clouds. Couldn’t even get a good
look at him, he continues,
then disappears
into the store
as quickly
as he appeared.
Chance Encounter
I head into the store,
anxious
and hot,
to the freezer section
for ice cream
for Sam.
I open a door
and stick my head in
to cool off.
I grab the one
that’s on sale,
and as I turn the corner
to go pay,
there he is,
almost like
he’s waiting
for me.
There’s something
about this man
and his trumpet.
Here one minute,
gone the next,
then back again
like a ghost,
or an angel.
It’s you, I say.
It is I.
Phantom
You okay, Youngblood? You look ruffled, he says, like he
actually cares.
It’s just everything’s kinda outta control right now.
Everyone’s freakin’ out about those flags, and then I
see you again, and I think you said something about
somebody flying. And on top of it, my best friend, this girl
I’ve cared about for years, got her heart ripped out by her
boyfriend, so I’m bringing her ice cream to cheer her up.
You’re worried about people flying. I’m worried that you’re
bringing your friend ice cream to cure a broken heart.
That’s just empty calories.
Yeah, I know, but she loves ice cream. We used to eat
frozen yogurt and ice cream together all the time. To
celebrate birthdays and good grades.
You love her.
Huh? She’s my friend.
You love her more than a friend, he says, laughing with his
few teeth and gums showing.
. . . .
It’s in your walk. Shoot, man, the desperation in your eyes is
blinding. Let me put my shades back on.
. . . .
A little advice. Ice cream will only cool her down and freeze
her tongue. You want to put fire in her heart, bring her
something that fills her with warmth.
What, like hot sauce?
He laughs so hard,
the cashier asks us
to hurry up,
if we’re buying something.
Youngblood, a life without the warmth of love is a sunless
garden when the flowers are dead.
Huh?
Follow me, he gestures, and
we walk
to the floral section.
What do you suppose she’d like?
Flower-wise? I point to some red puffball-looking things.
Carnations are the cheap man’s rose.
Perfect, I say, grabbing a handful.
Stop, son. Put those down. Is she a name for you to post,
a picture for you to share? Or is she the flowering garden
that will bloom over and over again, with an abundance of
possibilities?
The garden, I guess.
You guess? What is she to you?
One of my best friends. The only girl I ever dream about,
ever think about.
The rarest of sapphires?
Yeah, I guess.
. . . .
I mean, yes, she is, most definitely.
Give her a blue orchid. Tell her it is rare, stunning, and
strong like her. It will last as long as she nurtures it. And it
will bloom again. Just like she will.
You haven’t even seen her.
No, but the way you were running through the store to
grab a pint of ice cream for a girl, I knew.
Doesn’t look like they have orchids.
Then pick something else, something electric, he says,
walking up the aisle
and out
of the store,
whistling something
I think Walt has
played for me
before.
I pick up
the most electric flowers
on sale
and jet.
Happiness
Who died?
Huh?
The flowers.
They’re for you, Sam.
They’re gladiolus. Funeral flowers, Noah.
Oh, my bad. I thought they looked pretty, I guess.
The thought is what matters.
Well, you can’t go wrong with ice cream.
Awww, you’re so sweet. You’re the only one who listens to
me, who really knows me.
. . . .
You want a cone too?
Sure.
We sit at her kitchen counter,
and she devours her scoop
like she’s starved
with sadness.
Her eyes say
her soul
is wandering
or lost.
I know I need to find a way
to make her feel good
again.
Want to talk about it? I ask.
Not really.
You deserve . . .
Better. Yeah, I know.
Yeah . . . Well, it’s true.
Come with me to the living room. There’s something I
want to do.
Trap
Come, sit down.
She leads me to the couch
like a psychiatrist
prepping a patient
for a mental evaluation.
Love and ice cream are all we really need, Noah.
True.
Oh, I almost forgot, I got another love letter, she says,
reaching into her backpack.
. . . .
It was in the mailbox. If I hadn’t come home early, my
mom would have checked the box and asked me like a
hundred questions.
. . . .
It’s the one bright spot in all this darkness.
. . . .
Here, look. Help me read between the lines to figure out
who this rebel is, okay?
She shuffles them around
as I try to think
of an exit plan,
because I can feel a panic
but I don’t want to be
a wimp.
They’re all so random, romantic, intelligent. Who is this X,
Noah?
No idea.
Let’s read them aloud. It’ll be like theater class last year.
I got a C minus in that class. Remember? I think it’s
better if you just read them.
Come on, Noah. It would make me smile.
Fine.
Love Is the Reader
She hands me
the first one,
the one Walt stole and delivered,
the one that started this whole thing.
And for a moment in my mind,
I am pummeling him.
But her wide grin softens me.
Go ahead, Noah. Read.
So, I read.
Awww, you’re blushing again!
Am not. I’m just hot, I lie.
I look down,
continue reading
the most recent one,
trying not to suffocate,
trying not to melt.
I just want to escape
the fire
as fast
as possible.
I finish
as a trickle of sweat
drips down
onto the paper.
I think you should have gotten an A in theater class. You
read like a pro. You read like a boy who knows love.
. . . .
X-Man
There is a sign
in the front yard
of my heart, she says,
after we are both silent
for long enough.
It reads: No trespassing.
But now, this:
A secret
painted on the wall
of my desire.
Noah, I must tell you,
I don’t want to play
the game
of love anymore.
Cruz has spoiled
everything
for me.
But X gives me hope.
Who are you?
Who is he, Noah?
No Dice
We lie next to each other,
sink into her old couch,
feeding each other
more mint chocolate chip
like we were meant
to be.
My heart, a steel drum.
It pounds. POUNDS!
Should I kiss her?
I’ve never kissed anyone.
I put my arm around her,
try to comfort her.
She inches closer.
My arm feels like
it’s going to dislodge
from my shoulder
and float away
in bliss.
Her hair
smells like fresh sea.
I close my eyes.
The Wave is on its way.
I hear Walt:
Go for it, bro. You have to take these chances while you
have them.
And as I move
my head closer to hers,
she says,
You know, Noah, I’m feeling better. You’re like the sweetest
brother a girl could ever have.
And just like that,
all my dreams
come true
are blown.
A Secret
Her phone rings.
Over and over.
I’m not talking to him, she says, throwing the phone
across the room.
She turns off
the TV,
sits up,
grabs my hand.
You still having your party?
Walt’s been doing all the planning, so yeah, I guess. You
still coming?
I don’t know.
. . . .
Did I ever tell you why my parents got divorced?
No, you didn’t. And I felt bad asking . . . and that’s why I
never . . . She squeezes my hand. Hard.
Well, five years ago, our German shepherd Lucy ate some
woman’s lingerie. When they recovered the skimpy outfit