That awkward period before the bell rings, when the teacher doesn’t give you enough work to last right up to the second it goes off, kills me. I hate it. I loathe it. I stand there with my bag draped over one shoulder (you’re gonna get scoliosis!) trying not to meet anyone’s eye. And he’s there. Always there. He just stands there, not saying anything, and that kills me even more. SAY SOMETHING! I scream, but not out loud because then people would look at me. That’s not acceptable. I tend to like being invisible.
I feel like a total idiot, like I should say something. Hey, what’s the homework again? Page 237, problems 10 through 24, even. It’s on the board. Now I feel even more stupid. He’s like the bane of my existence, my kryptonite, or whatever you call it. He’s making me dumb. That’s what the kid I baby-sit says. Then his dog tries to chow down on my head.
He’s still standing there, and the second clock is moving way slower than a tick per second. What is the world conspiring against me? Trying to make me feel more awkward than I already am?
What’d you say the homework was? I didn’t say anything to him. He told me what the homework was. This is a trick. A total absolute trick. I refuse to fall for it. I’ll say nothing in response.
Now it’s even more awkward. I can feel him looking at me. He’s waiting. I inspect my fingernails. Hmm, did you say something? Oh, you idiot! It’s been an hour since he asked!
Nah. I forgot what I said. It’s only been a couple of seconds! How can you forget?
Hey, he says, do you, do you—Want to go to prom!? Yes, I’d love to! He looks suspicious. No matter. What’s that paper for? Oh, my phone number.
No, no it’s not. Heading, title… English paper? Do you want to read my English paper. No, not really. I stick it in my bag. I’m stuck with it now.
Dear God, the bell still hasn’t rung. Ring now. How about now? Now? OK, now! It’s a no go.
Ask me to prom, I will him. Ask me to prom. He’s not listening. He’s watching the clock. I will the clock to explode. We are not leaving until I get a prom date.
Will you—finally!—pass me that paper? Not again! I give up. Ring, bell, ring! Here you go. Thanks.
More awkward silence, and I have never so wanted to get out of a room more than I do now.
Do you—
No! Ring! I am home free! Out the door I race. I am gone!

“Want to go to prom with me?”