Go to school.

Abigail was entering her bedroom when she stopped, her brain tickling. "I should put my shirt back on," she said to herself and laughed, "I was just being dumb earlier when I took it off since I wanted to mess with Daniel. And that old dork sure was surprised to see his older sister go one-thirds naked!" She descended down the stairs and threw it on her before going back up again, satisfied with her little prank.

I watched by the front door, nodded in approval, and took off.

The walk to school was always fun.

And if by 'fun' you meant cold, dull, boring, yeah, it was fun.

I sighed, ignoring the cold bite of the air. The streets were somewhat quiet, but the ambient purr of the city beyond and the ever invisible workings and thuds and slams amalgamated together to create a background of whispers you couldn't help but overhear. Chugging cars, rolling traintracks, falling pallets. Morning always felt like the time of day where everything was opened up just a little further, where one side of the city could throw its fishing rod into the other one's pond.

And then the clock struck 12 and it was back to a disconnected urban jungle. Standard for cities like these.

"Bye, Mom!"

"Have a good day at school sweetie!"

Ahead of me creaked the sound of a gate, and I looked up, and noticed her.

A pair of slip-on shoes, Just a hint of leg. A form-fitting dress that covered her body with a clear appreciation of its owner's body. Curves that on a slim body such as hers made it hard to look away.

"Imogene." A rosy pallor took over my cheeks. I slowed my steps down.

Imogene was one of the prettiest girls in the neighborhood and her sweetness could've resurrected a cemetery. It mostly came from the creamy smoothness of her skin, her dazzling eyes, her taut body, the fashionable but still groin-hardening wardrobe she had on. But it was also just 'her'. Something about it drove me just a bit nutty.

Probably had to do with the fact that I lived not far from her, just past Maine St., one turn at the old barn. Or that I've spent a day or two in this very position, walking to our high school, staying far enough away that I would never pass her, and she would never even set an eye on me. Good formula, right?

Well, I wanted to go up to her. But it felt awkward; I had no idea where to start and what to say. What she liked and what she didn't. If she played sports or watched movies.

If she would like me or if she wouldn't.

As she walked, her steps taking an even and brisk pace, pebbles shunned from the soles of her feet and brown hair gently billowing in the breeze, I concluded that I would do something. Shifting my backpack over my shoulders and casting a determined look at her backside, I decided that I would do something today. And, with one look at the mark on my wrist, I knew just what that would be...