“What? You’ve been transferred to Arizona and you’re not taking us with you?” I exclaimed. “Also, you just happened to not tell us until the night before! Why?”

            Mom sighed. It had been eight years since Dad mysteriously disappeared and she was left to take care of me and my sixteen year old older brother, Victor. “I know you’re upset, Alice, but the rules clearly state, ‘no children under the age of eighteen’ but, you can stay with Simon and Victor can stay with Kevin. Besides, I haven’t been transferred, it’s a business trip.”

            “A two year business trip, that’ll be forever,” I retorted.

            Simon and Kevin were our family friends. Kevin is our neighbor’s son; actually, he’s our neighbor’s stepson. Kevin always towered over me, his brown eyes tinted blue behind the contacts whenever I was forcefully dragged to his house for Victor to work on “homework”. Victor and Kevin go to the same school, Dibbleting (what kind of name is Dibbleting anyway?), which has a program for “all gifted and talented students” but it also doubles as a normal school. On its own, the normal school is the lowest ranked school in the district so the gifted part raises the standard. Simon used to go to Dibbleting, the normal part, but, then got accepted into Frefin when he was in seventh grade. I also go to Frefin, but I entered in sixth grade.

Last year, my cello skills were lagging far behind all my classmates with private teachers, so, I asked Simon to be my tutor, who was a wonderful cellist to me but a huge show off to others. He taught me every Tuesday afterschool at his house. Almost immediately, I noticed a huge improvement.  Over the summer, I realized that I liked someone at Frefin, but I wasn’t sure who. Slowly, thinking over all the boys I knew, I came to one conclusion, Simon.

He was always surrounded by his friends, and always the top near the top of his class. The process of elimination, clearly the best way of choosing someone to like, still there are more idiotic methods. The only problem, he was three years older than me and we were family friends. Still, I liked him to the point of obsession and stalking. Not real stalking of course. Cough, cough. I think that he has begun to notice and is intentionally avoiding me. Now, I have no excuse to be with him, as I got a private cello teacher, who “coincidentally” is the same as his. Still, at school, when ever I get the chance, I follow him and remember his every move. No, that’s definitely not called stalking. When I’m going to stay with him, I’ll have to seem completely innocent; after all, I am merely a friend who doesn’t know him well.

            The next morning, when my phone alarm shrieked at precisely 6:20 AM, Mom was long gone, obviously on the flight to Arizona. I sat up in my formerly warm and cozy bed and changed into some clothes sitting on my chair. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too old. I ran out the door as if a hurricane was after me. When I dashed out the door, the cold, sharp winter air chilled my throat, waking me up as I rushed up the steep, frosted hill to my bus stop. As usual, I was the first one there. As usual, the bus was a couple minutes late. Same old, same old.

On the bus, I attempted to listen to my blue outdated MP3, but failed because it already died overnight. So, I just thought about Simon and his endless qualities. That took me all the way to school, a whole forty minutes wasted. I stepped off the bus, thanking the driver as I went and walked on the hard and muddy concrete path between the frosted patches of grass. Oh, what a long weekend it was and what an exciting day it will be. But I still get to see Simon… (Hint, hint, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.)