This is Part 8 of the story of How I Met Superman. To get caught up, you can find the preceding chapters here.

———————

It’s not like it was some red-carpet event, but getting invited to certain parties could be tricky. This one was tricky because it was so small. It’s not like Patrick was going to miss the fact that I’d arrived uninvited, given the tiny space and so few people. It was for about 20 friends, and at his parent’s house, and he would definitely notice if I were there.

I arrived with Dawn, though, only because Keith and Dawn assured me it was okay. There were lots of snacks, M&Ms, darkness, beanbags, good music, and my Homecoming picture with Patrick propped up on the china cabinet in an 8×10 gold frame. That last one I didn’t expect at all. I stood in the dining room, staring at it, with a Coke in my hand. In the photo, I had a bundle of baby’s breath pinned to the side of my head.

“It looks like you have popcorn in your hair,” said a deep voice behind me.

I whirled toward Patrick’s chest. He was looking past me, at the portrait, and offering a pained sort of smile. “I meant to take that down. I knew you were coming.” Continue reading →

 This is Part 7 of the story of How I Met Superman. To get caught up, you can find the preceding chapters here.

———————

The month of January rolled along, with me taking surreptitious glances at Superman across the quad, and feeling really sad that my best friend Debi had moved.

I fell back in step with another old friend, who took me in the way old friends do, as if you’ve been some silly little bird that tried to fly the nest.

Dawn and I had been friends a long time — we met back in Girl Scout days — and she was always so much fun. The two of us started attending wrestling matches after school, and basketball games. But we didn’t attend because we liked wrestling matches and basketball games, of course. We attended because boys were there.

Superman, particularly, seemed to favor basketball. Although, honestly, I sometimes followed him to wrestling matches if necessary. I’m not sure if I was there because he was, or if he was there because I was, but we were definitely both there, on the bleachers, sitting with our respective friends – our books stacked beside us because we hadn’t gone home yet, our coats damp from the February rain during the walk to the gym. Dawn was a little more outgoing than I was, and she would start conversations with various groups of friends, or boys we thought were cute.

But I continually had my eye on Superman. I think I tried to talk to him once or twice. But – aside from throwing me a shy grin, which I really started to love – he didn’t speak to me at all. I decided that Keith had no idea what he was talking about: This guy was as far from a player as anyone could imagine. So I would just act my silly, giddy self with Dawn, move my books closer to Superman and his friends, sometimes talk to the guys who were mutual friends of ours. At the end of the game Dawn and I would flounce out of the gym with our umbrellas and musty coats.

In the middle of winter, though, word began going around that Patrick was having a party. And he invited absolutely everyone I knew.

Everyone, that is, except me.

I probably should have been insulted, but it was a bit of a relief.

“It’s fine, Keith,” I said, holding the phone crooked on my shoulder while I painted my toenails on my parents’ bedspread. “I really don’t want to go, anyway. It would be a-w-k-w-a-r-d.”

“He should have invited you,” Keith insisted.

“It doesn’t matter, really.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Everyone’s pissed at him.”

“Truly, I don’t care about this at all, and – ”

 “Sanchez will be there.”

My polish brush froze above my last nail.

I thought about not answering, not responding, but Keith was a smart guy.

“Really?” I whispered.

I could hear him chuckling on the other end. “I could get you invited. …”

I sighed. “Okay.”

And, as usual, Keith orchestrated everything. …

Click here for Part 8: Attending the Party I Wasn’t Invited To. …

*Many names changed to protect the Don’t-Want-To-Be-Googled.

This is Part 6 of the story of How I Met Superman. To get caught up, you can find the preceding chapters here.

———————

“Breaking up is hard to do,” says the song. But I didn’t know it would be so hard.

And it certainly never occurred to me that my boyfriend wouldn’t let me.

“Why?” Patrick said, pulling me out of earshot of my brothers, who were playing soccer in front of our house. We stood in front of my parents’ garage, Patrick frowning, seriously confused.

I mentioned the litany of name-calling and criticisms, but he shook his head. “I’m just kidding with you.”

I tried to stay strong. “I just don’t think we’re right for each other.”

He blew out a breath, pulled me toward his chest, told me I was being irrational. He convinced me to give him another try. It didn’t truly occur to me that calling me irrational was precisely the problem, but I told you I was weak.

“Maybe,” I said, in my traditionally wimpy way. “But only two more weeks.”

He nodded. “Done.” Continue reading →

This is Part 5 of the story of How I Met Superman. To get caught up, you can find the preceding chapters here.

———————

The rest of the fall ambled in and out of the heat of a Southern California autumn. Patrick and Debi and our circle of friends went to football games, went to class, called friends on the telephone, tried to keep up with who was dating whom. …

Now that I’d been introduced to Superman, I felt comfortable saying hi and nodding to him in the hallways, though my heart always began pounding with worry that he’d actually talk to me. I imagined myself stumbling over my words, stumbling over my feelings, stumbling over the sidewalk, something – and sometimes I’d be relieved that he simply nodded back and just kept walking.

Of course, I also had a boyfriend. So I filed away my interest, along with my pounding heart, as if they were curious distractions – things you batted at when they got in your way.

But every day, as I was unwrapping my sandwiches in the quad, I memorized a few new things about Superman. I learned that he was quiet. He did most of the listening in groups, not much talking. I learned that he had a great smile, and he’d flash it suddenly – brilliantly and without warning – as soon as something amused him. Continue reading →

This is Part 4 of the story of How I Met Superman. To get caught up, you can find the preceding chapters here.

———————

Our football team was called the Tigers. Football games were everything back then: Night air getting chillier, cold tickling our noses, bright stadium lights creating a fog across the field through which our blue-and-gold Tigers would emerge. The band would erupt, the students would leap from their seats, and then we’d all settle back down, shoulder-to-shoulder, drinking hot cocoa and cheering them on.

One night at a football game, I was sitting between Patrick* and my best friend Debi. I often sat between them this way because they really didn’t like each other. Patrick thought Debi took up too much of my time, and Debi thought Patrick was too mean to me. So mostly I just sat between them and let them ignore each other.

On this night, like many others, Debi was right, and Patrick and I had gotten in another fight. He’d stomped off along the wooden bleachers, and she’d looked at me again and rolled her eyes. I never knew what to think.

I tugged off the ring he’d let me wear – it was a large garnet birthstone ring of his that I wore on my thumb until I could get a chain, but on this night I thought I didn’t want it anymore. I didn’t want him anymore. Debi took the ring and inspected it under the dim bleacher lighting.

“He’s not good for you,” she said quietly.

I nodded and bit my lip.

“Let’s go get a Coke,” she said. Continue reading →