After about a month of notes, phone calls, and depressing walks, I started to give up. I didn't care about being with him anymore. I had decided boys were too much trouble. That's when he started talking to me.

He came up to me after lunch one day. I was at my locker getting ready to go to English when he tapped me on the shoulder. He scared me, causing me to drop my books. Blushing terribly, I

started picking them up. He just stood there watching me.

"How come you stopped taking your walks?" He asked me quietly.

Startled, I stammered, "What?"

"Your walks. How come you stopped taking your walks?"

"I don't know what you mean", I said, standing and turning back to my locker.

"Look, I know it was you who wrote the notes in math."

I started fumbling with my pens.

"And I know it was you on the phone."

"I have to go to class", I said, trying to bite back the tears of frustration that were welling, "I don't want to be late."

"And I see you walking by my house."

I turned to go, but he was in my way.

"What did you want?" He asked.

"To be noticed!" I said, tears welling in my eyes. "Is that too much to ask?" I pushed by him and ran to class.

Herbie just stood there and watched me go. Herbie wasn't in math class later that day. Someone said he went home sick. As I turned up the sidewalk to my house, I noticed Herbie setting on my front porch steps. Shocked, I walked up to him and stood there.

"Hi" Herbie said.

"I thought you were sick," I said smugly. "The kids in math

said you were sick."

"I was, kinda." Herbie said, a lop-sided smile crossing his lips.

"Then what are you doing here? I don't want your germs!" I was trying to sound indignant and disgusted, but his smile told me that it wasn't working.

"I wanted to talk to you" he said simply.

"About what?" I said cautiously, all thoughts of my anger gone, replaced by an annoying glimmer of hope.

"Listen. I am sorry if I upset you earlier. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to know what you wanted." he said, raising his big blue eyes to meet mine.

"What does a girl usually want from a boy?"

"How should I know." Herbie said, shrugging his narrow shoulders.

"What does it mean when a girl writes notes to a boy and calls him and walks by his house..."

"You never signed the notes" He interrupted.

"Because you didn't even acknowledge me..." The frustration was slowly creeping back.

"You never said anything on the phone." He interrupted again.

"That is because I didn't know what to say..." I was getting flustered; I could feel the blood in my cheeks and neck.

"And you were snooping around my house." He interrupted a third time.

"I was not snooping!" I said, turning away from his gaze, hands on hips.

"Then what were you doing?" He asked quietly, cautiously.

"I was dreaming about you, okay!? I have been dreaming about you for a long time. I have liked you ever since I saw you at school. I just couldn't get your attention." A single tear

wound its way down the left side of my face.

Herbie looked up at me with a pained look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I said, bending down in front of him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I was scared."

Scared? Herbie was scared. I sat down beside him and took his thin hand in mine. "It's okay, Herbie. I am sorry. I just couldn't find the right things to say to you. I was scared, too."

Herbie stood up, freeing his hand from mine. "I better get home. Call me later. Okay?" He stared at me with his big blue eyes.

"Yes" I said, my knees visibly knocking.

"Bye, Tess" he said as he turned and headed down the sidewalk.

"Bye" I said smiling.