I walk into the lunchroom on Friday knowing none of my friends are there. I stand by the stairs for a minute trying to come up with a game plan. Should I sit down? Where? Should I get food? Of course not; sitting alone is one thing, but eating alone is worse. Should I pull out my phone? Should I try to look sad? Of course not! I decide to sit at an empty table and pull out my binder, trying to give the impression that I have something better to do during lunch than, you know, eating with my friends.
There are quite a few types of kids who eat alone, but they all fit the label “loner.” As I sit down, I laugh to myself and think, “I am probably the most connected loner in the world.” What I mean by this is that I have quite a few friends and even more friendly acquaintances, but I still find myself sitting alone. Even the best of us can find ourselves in unexpected situations. I am walking on that thin line between laughing and crying. I pull out my notebook and start writing.
People start taking the chairs from my table. I can’t help it; I start laughing out loud. The most pathetic of all loners are the ones who are sitting alone at a table where all the other chairs have been taken. Three chairs are gone; only two more remain. I wonder how long until they are moved to another table and I am officially a leper.
A boy sits down. I glance up. He’s cute. I look down again at my notebook and start scribbling words with great concentration. And I know I am really a loner at heart who got lucky by making friends, because I’m sitting at a table with a cute boy and I am pretending he’s not there. I have to stop this behavior. I look up at the boy and smile. I don’t know if it will go past that, but I have to do something. He smiles back. He’s still cute. He says hi. I say hi. He says his name is Ryan. I say my name is CC. I don’t know what to say next. I look back down at my notebook. What is wrong with me?
The boy named Ryan says something else to me. This is what I was afraid of; I don’t understand what he said. Ever since I popped my eardrum in sixth grade, I’ve been mostly deaf in one ear and I have a very hard time understanding people, especially in loud places like lunchrooms. It seems like cute boys never speak up, so I’m always yelling and they’re always giving me concerned looks. Luckily, I figured out a system that’s better than screaming “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” really loudly. I just nod and smile. It might not be much better, but at least their first impression of me isn’t a screaming deaf girl. After I nod and smile, Ryan gives me a confused look. I’m embarrassed. Apparently it wasn’t a yes or no question. He is a good person and tries to ask again. I hear him this time. He says, “So you’re a… junior?”
“Yes I am!” I say. But now I don’t know what to say. I haven’t felt this awkward in a really long time. Luckily, Ryan takes the reigns. He motions to my notebook and binder and asks, “You have homework due next period?” I should smile, say yes, and never speak to him again. But I am not that socially smart. I tell him the truth. “Actually, no, I just hate looking like a loner, so I’m trying to look busy.” He looks amused. I silently curse myself.
I blurt out the next thing that comes to my head. “What grade are you in?” He tells me he’s a senior. I don’t think there’s any way to gracefully end there, so I tell him that my brother is a senior. I think that’s funny because I usually don’t talk about my brother; he’s the last person I want people to know I’m related to. I ask Ryan if he knows my brother. He does. I ask Ryan if he went to my elementary school. He did. I tell him I did too, and that’s probably why he looks a little bit familiar. He nods. I think he’s scared. I shut my mouth and look away. The table falls silent.
I remember that I have a creative writing assignment due on Monday. I have to turn in two love stories, and one of them has to be personal. I have no love stories, and it’s going to be a problem to write one. I hate love. I especially hate Valentine’s Day, which is coming up soon. I look at Ryan again. I decide that I love him. I love him a lot, and he’s going to be the subject of my personal love story for my class. I wonder if he knows I love him. I love him for sitting at my table and I love him for being cute and I love him for knowing my brother and I love him for giving me something to write for creative writing.
A few minutes later two of his friends show up. He starts talking to them. I don’t know if I should keep sitting there writing or if I should leave. I listen to them for a few minutes. Ryan’s friends aren’t nearly as cute as he is. But I like them anyway. I am happy they are here. They are slightly funny. Ryan occasionally shifts his eyes back to me, but keeps talking to his friends. I don’t know if I should introduce myself. I decide not to. They don’t need to know that I love Ryan. No one needs to know that, except for maybe my entire creative writing class.
I leave the lunch table and walk slowly to my next class. I am not sure what I am supposed to do. I didn’t even really say goodbye to Ryan, I just got up and left. I can’t wait to write this down. Ryan will be the cutest stranger to ever become the subject of a love story.
