|EIGHT|

After the great tragedy of Micah, the boy who could never love me, things started to look up. You see, there is something fundamentally magnetic about a lovesick girl in middle school and it seems to attract other lonely preteens. And that's how Patrick Day stumbled into my comically catastrophic love life. Desperation.

Patrick Day was as hopeless as me and initially I suffered second-hand embarrassment just being around him. He had a stutter when it came to class speaking, tripped over himself and chair legs constantly, and always had a far-off look in his eyes. The guy just exuded anxiety.

"Who in our class do you think would be the first to die in the event of a zombie apocalypse?" Josie asked one weekend while were all sat on her porch listening to the All-American Rejects and pretending to do research for the science fair projects we had to finish in the next month.

"Me," Hugo replied instantly, not looking up from the book he was reading about marine life.

I rolled my eyes while Josie giggled. "Whatever, you're way too smart to die in that scenario. You'd do the smart thing and lock yourself up in Costco with Ingrid for fifty years and repopulate the earth."

My cheeks warmed and I swatted her shoulder as she cackled impishly. "Hey!"

Hugo shrugged but didn't reply, leaving me to defend us by myself.

"It would be Patrick," Micah announced over us. "I've literally watched him walk into a door that he was looking right at."

I couldn't help but burst out laughing, but that's just who Patrick was: the butt-end of a joke.

And he stayed that way until the end of the school year. That was when something happened that made my love-starved heart swell.

At the end of the school year we were given cheap versions of a yearbook. Basically, it was just a stack of school pictures stapled together with plenty of blank pages for HAGS to be written a hundred time in sparkly gel-pen. Despite this, we all thought they were pretty awesome.

I, for one, wanted to collect as many autographs as I could—you know, something to impress my older self with (as if I might forget I was a social pariah as a child). So, to start my collection I decided I needed to start small and work my way up to the popular kids.

Hugo, Josie, and Micah were the first to sign my book. That was the easy part since they were my friends. Now I needed to find the least intimidating person in school to really get the ball rolling. That person, you may ask? Well, that person was Patrick Day.

"Now would be the perfect time to ask," Hugo told me one morning before school started. Everyone was standing at their lockers, some racing against time to finish an assignment, others chatting boisterously.

Patrick was one of those people that tried to look like he was too busy to talk to anyone by rearranging things in his locker and checking inside his backpack a hundred times. Even though it was an illusion, I still felt nervous about asking him to sign my book.

I folded my yearbook over my chest and swallowed the lump in my throat. "I don't know..."

Hugo peaked at me under a mop of dark hair and raised an eyebrow. "It's just Patrick."

I frowned. "Easy for you to say. You're not asking people to sign your book."

He shrugged. "I'm not going to know who any of these people are in a couple years. Besides, you signed my book. So did Josie and Micah. That's all I need."

I sighed heavily, my limbs buzzing with intermittent shocks of adrenaline.

"Yesterday he sneezed so hard snot shot out his nose," Hugo reminded me.

The memory made me grimace, but it worked. "Alright, alright," I decided, taking a step toward Patrick. "I've got this."

The walk across the hall felt shorter than it should have. Suddenly I was standing next to a jittery Patrick Day who seemed to be humming to himself in a way he hoped would make him seem less lonely and more preoccupied.

I took a deep breath and forced a cheery smile. "Hi, Patrick."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed me standing there. I smiled like I didn't notice.

"H-h-hi, Ingrid?" He looked unsure and his voice broke. I wanted nothing more than to giggle at him but figured it would be rude, and I wanted him to sign my yearbook so I couldn't be rude.

He was tall but not as tall as Hugo, and his features were plain and round. From the curve of his nose to his lingering layer of baby fat, he was soft and squishy. Someone who could blend into crowd and get lost forever. He made a person feel much more confident in his presence, and I felt silly for feeling nervous before.

Tipping my yearbook forward, I offered for him to take it. "I was wondering if you would sign my yearbook. Maybe I could sign yours?"

He looked down at the book, dumbfounded. It was like he couldn't quite process my offer.

Finally, he mumbled, "I didn't think you noticed me."

I laughed. "Kind of hard to miss you," I told him, glancing down at all the bruises and scratches on his legs from countless mishaps with everything from his own two feet to real obstacles.

"Oh." He made a pained face. "Yeah...my mom says I just haven't grown into my body yet...so, I kind of...fall a lot..." Again, he made another face, this time more to himself.

I smiled warmly. I think he needed to see there was nothing to be embarrassed about—at least not in front of me. I was a walking embarrassment half the time too. There was nothing scary or special enough about me for him to be nervous.

"That's like my friend, Hugo," I told him. "He got really tall last summer and walks a little unbalanced now. He's better at staying on his feet, though."

Patrick laughed and ducked his head. "Yeah..."

"Well, anyways." I rocked back on my heels. He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine sheepishly. "I did notice, so you can sign if you want?"

Still looking a bit stunned, he took the flimsy book from me and held it up to the door of his locker while he scribbled his name and a message on the inside cover.

"Do you want me to sign yours, or?" I asked as he wrote.

He shook his head. "I kept mine at home. I didn't think anyone..." He looked over at me briefly and crazily enough I think I saw his cheeks flush. "I didn't think anyone would want to sign."

"Well, I would have," I told him. He handed my yearbook back. This time he seemed unable to meet my eye but his lips were curved upwards in a slight smile.

My stomach did a weird flop when I thanked him and said goodbye just as the bell rang and everyone scattered. It was like a slow-motion movie moment where everything was normal and awkward one moment and then our fingers brushed as I took my book back and that one touch flipped a switch. I felt warm all of a sudden. The boy-crazed part of my brain did a somersault at this positive interaction, and a box of heart-shaped confetti exploded all around me.

The numb realization that followed me to class made me curious to read his message, and when I did my feelings were confirmed. Patrick Day just made my Possible Princes book.

Ur the prettiest girl in our grade. HAGS. -Patrick

HAGS had never looked so romantic.

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"Wait a second," Hugo blurted out. "Hold on just a minute. You can't be serious. You barely talked to him yesterday. Not possible. No way!"

I rolled my eyes and fell back against my towel in despair. Of course he didn't get it. He never got it. Love was simple and he made it complicated.

There was nothing but the tss tss tss tss sound of the sprinkler for a moment. Nothing but hot sunshine, a cool breeze, and the smell of wet grass as we laid out in his backyard.

"You're joking right?" He asked cautiously, leaning back and rolling onto his stomach to look at me.

"Hugo, do I ever joke about my potential husbands?" I ask, annoyed by the question.

His face went expressionless. "Husbands? Really?"

I groaned and turned away from him.

"Just think about it," Hugo probed. "Patrick. You guys would never talk to each other. He's shy, you have high expectations...it would be a mess."

"Can't you just be supportive for once?" I grumbled lowly. "You're never supportive."

"I'm being realistic," he stated evenly.

I picked at the grass clippings stuck to my towel, trying to ignore the lecture in his voice because I hated it more and more the older we got. "You're just bitter because you never like-like anyone and nobody ever like-likes you."

That sentence tasted sour coming out of my mouth and my stomach lurched in regret, but I felt compelled to stand my ground. He always made me feel bad about liking the boys I did.

No response came, but the air felt thick between us. Curious, I turned to see his reaction, but when I leaned back he was no longer sitting next to me. I sat up quickly and looked around. The panic in my chest deflated when I realized he had moved to sit underneath the spray of the sprinkler.

His eyes closed and face tilted upwards, he sat cross-legged on the grass. Every time the sprinkler oscillated back he shivered under the rain.

He stayed that way for a little while and then abruptly stood up and sprinted back, screeching about how cold it was. I didn't understand what was happening until he got back.

When he reached his towel, he pulled it off the ground and wrapped himself in it. "So," he said casually. "What were you saying?"

He avoided looking at me and instead stared off toward the sprinkler. He was acting like he hadn't heard what I said. I took a jab at him because I was frustrated, but I must have gone too far. Because Hugo was one of those people that didn't confront problems unless he was protecting someone else. When it came to himself he ignored it.

When I realized what he was doing I felt guilty, but knew that if I tried to apologize he would ignore that too and pretend he had no idea what I was talking about.

I cleared my throat and smoothed my hair back. "'Um, I was just saying that I think I'm going to ask Patrick to be my boyfriend."

Hugo continued to stare ahead almost expressionless, but his voice was full of excitement when he said, "You guys would be cute."

Well, at least he returned supportive.

"Thanks," I muttered.

He nodded and then without warning he grabbed me by the hands and pulled me up, dragging me toward the sprinkler. Laughing and screaming, I fought against him while he held me in direct line of fire. Wet and cold we ran around the spray of the water, fighting and attacking each other with the hose until his mom called us in for dinner.

Our argument wasn't going to stop me from finding my prince.  He knew me better than anyone, and my quest to find the love of my life wasn't going to stop because he didn't agree.

Hugo didn't fight me about love after that. He let me take the leap time and time again with so much as a shrug of indifference. But, he was always there when I fell too hard and ended up broken. He was the one who encouraged me keep looking. There had to be someone as good as Hugo out there for me.

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On the last day of school I asked Patrick Day to be my boyfriend. Before he got to school, I slid a note in his locker that read:

I think you're cute. Do you want to be my boyfriend? Circle yes or no.

With an opening line like that, I knew there was no way he'd turn me down.

Sure enough, after school I opened my locker and the note had been returned. Yes was circled in sky blue ink. My prowess in all things love related was finally being appreciated. In that moment romance rose from the grave, my heart recited verses of Shakespeare I had yet to read, and cupid dumped a bucket of love right over my head. 

Patrick Day was officially my boyfriend, and I desperately hoped there was a prince in there somewhere. A knight in shining armor he would be if he craved this as badly as me.