To All the Boys I've Loved Before

57

I GET THE IDEA DURING the morning announcements, when they announce that our school’s hosting a Model UN scrimmage this weekend. John Ambrose McClaren was the middle school Model UN president. I wonder if he’s on his school’s team.

I bring it up to Peter at lunch, before any of the guys sit down. “Do you know if John McClaren still does Model UN?”

He gives me a funny look. “How should I know?”

“I don’t know. I was just wondering.”

“Why?”

“I think maybe I’m going to go to the Model UN scrimmage this weekend. I have a feeling that he’ll be there.”

“For real?” Peter hoots. “If he is, what are you going to do?”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet. Maybe I’ll go up to him, maybe I won’t. I just want to see how he turned out.”

“We can look him up online right now and I’ll show you.”

I shake my head. “No, that would be cheating. I want to see him with my own eyes. I want to be surprised.”

“Well, don’t bother asking me to go and keep you company. I’m not going to waste a whole Saturday on Model UN.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking you to go.”

Peter throws me a hurt look. “What? Why not?”

“It’s just something I want to do by myself.”

Peter lets out a low whistle. “Wow. The body ain’t even cold yet.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a little player, Covey. We aren’t even broken up yet and you’re already trying to talk to other guys. I would be hurt if I wasn’t impressed.”

This makes me smile.

In eighth grade I kissed John McClaren at a party. It wasn’t a romantic kiss. It was a barely anything kiss. We were playing spin the bottle, and when it was his turn, I held my breath and prayed the bottle would land on me. And it did! It almost landed on Angie Powell, but luck was on my side that day, and he was mine by half an inch. I tried to keep my face very still and robotic so I wouldn’t smile. John and I crawled into the center and we did this very quick chicken peck, and everybody groaned, and his face was red. I was disappointed; I think maybe I’d expected something more, a kiss with more weight to it. More va-va-va-voom. More zsa zsa zsu. But that was it. Maybe I’ll get a second chance. Maybe it’ll make me forget Peter.