“Calvin, wake your lazy butt up!” an unexpected scream coming from my living room.
I emerge from my bed, and like a penetrating shot from wet gym socks, I’m hit with a terrible stench. Such a smell…where did it come from? And why is it so, so penetrating? A smell of such magnitude and smelliness can only and probably did, come from one evil entity: endless and nasty farts. Burnt broccoli and baby barf probably fits the description flawlessly.

Ignoring the terrible stench, I drag myself to the window and beyond that crystal-clear glass, a sensual Monday morning awaits – a perfect feast for the senses. The skies are clear and blue, the birds chirp their harmonic noises, and the smooth winds breeze their unctuous essence through my skin; a rather simple and seemingly redundant scene from a movie, yet so beautiful. I allow my senses to indulge in the beauty of nature, from the sight of the birds to the sounds of the music.
These are the mornings where I’d rather snuggle between my 1970’s lava lamp and char-encrusted bamboo tiki torch than go to school. An intense heat, much like that of love, warms my heart and tears of joy flow carelessly down my face. Hmm…a discrete transition from the pungent, to the tranquil, and then to the beautiful; what beholds my future? I’m clueless to answer, but the time for quiet reflection is over as school exposes its ugly head.

Sliding my way to the bathroom, the freezing tiles of the floor sting my feet, but through a quick sniff, an enticing sneaks its way into through my nose. From the corner of my eye, I spot a fat stack of pancakes, and I do mean fat…like an episode of “Fat Boys Gone Wild.” Gallons of droopy drool and gooey saliva salivate through my teeth as I’m ready to gorge on the flying saucers of doughy goodness, but the feeling of slithering, microscopic tics and maggots in my teeth are too much to bear. Darn bacteria and its evil ways!
And like the daily system of retaining whatever hygiene I have left, I proceed: brush teeth, scratch out eye boogers, and pop pimples. With my newly polished teeth, I meet face to face with my edibles disks of dough and drown it in a waterfall of syrup. My primitive instincts strikes in a flash and I savagely tear away at the flesh of the pastry, but yet again, that same voice rears its ugly head, “Calvin, it’s time to go! Get the out here!” With a single innocent pancake hanging from my teeth like dead flesh and syrup glazing through my skin like fresh blood, I race outside.

I silently stare at my mom’s dirt-encrusted vehicle of doom, pondering…should I press “continue” or “quit game,” because that car is ready to explode like an overly obese Chi Wawa. To go in, I would certainly explode. To not go in, I would lose my chance at something special. I press the “continue” button, but with the kind of luck I’ve had lately, I shall soon be spewing the contents of my stomach before an innocent toilet. Oh well, I’ve reached the point of no return, and now I let flying pigs decide my cruel fate – as they are like gods in my book. Am I destined to cry myself to sleep or scream from unwanted excitement?

One long, really LONG ride later…
As I expected, that deathtrap of a vehicle has so many kinks and flaws that it should’ve been used for target practice at the bombing ranges. It seems as though all my limbs are attached and none of my organs are hanging from my teeth.
“Go burn in a toilet, piece of shhiiiiii…car!” I scream as bystanders stare peculiarly at my waving fist and tidy whities. “Heh…well you know, I forgot my belt.”
I lift my pants from the ground and scurry away with half my dignity. I head for my first class, disregarding the idea that I just became the poster-boy for “My Life Sucks,” and now looking forward to the concept of meeting a picturesque girl.
Sleepy, boring, nada…I blank out in first period English, because it’s plain and boring like boiled potatoes. It seems that school has a reoccurring theme: pure boredom. Preparations for a typical day seem imminent, that is, until fifth period, when I’m bombarded by a surprisingly more-than-surprising surprise to the most surprising degree of surprise!

Sitting like on my chair as if I had one too many jalapeño cheese burgers, I unknowingly stare at the clock, hoping for that miracle I imagined for. Boredom riddles my face as a friend of mine moans like a backhanded donkey. Until now…
A breeze hits me like a smooth feather and a shine brighter than a thousand stars hit my eyes. Is this it? Is this “life?” Through the door, walking in, an incredible, unbelievable, and amazing girl enters the room.
“Oh my freaking…” I cry. She is…she is…she is the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen…emphasis on ugly! I cringe at the thought of her supreme ugliness…
Snaking her way into class, our science teacher, Ms. Martinez, announces something: “Alright students! We have a new student, her name is…”
“Please, no more ugly!” I cry loudly.
“Umm Calvin…if you may. Okay, so her name is…”
“OH MY FREAKING SHIZNITS!” I whisper.

Are my eyes deceiving me? This girl, this beautiful angel of unparalleled sexiness, is everything that defines beauty plus a banana cream pie. Those eyes, those crystal pearls make the stars look like deformed chicken feet. That style, that wearable artistry makes Calvin Klein look like last season’s failures. That hair, that waterfall of silk would even make Usher stop and stare. Oh yeah, don’t forget that face, that flawless silhouette would make Angela Jolie look like a frog with outstretched wrinkles. Wow, she is simply amazing. A great paradox to that ugly girl, don’t cha think?

I don’t know what to think, nor do I even want to think. I just want to worship, worship the divine beauty she graces my boring world with. I must know her name!

I fire up my engines and begin to approach her. 4 steps till I can touch her hair…3 steps till my first girlfriend…2 steps till love and affection…1 step and only 1 step to go…0 steps and I’m frozen solid. What am I to do, when fear and shyness is looming inside me like a merciless assailant? I might need to overcome my flaws to even get a slim chance with her, but even then, will I be enough?

Fast-forward three months…

After three months of practice kissing with a Barbie doll and reciting the lyrics to “I Believe I Can Fly,” I think I’m ready. I mastered the art of talking to a girl, but will it work?

Another day in the romance story and her beautiful posterior glues itself onto the chair. This is my chance! Giving it my best shot, I proudly walk over to her and say “hi” as seductively as I can. One word exits her mouth, “Hi.” Suddenly, I’ve lost all common sense, no more grasps on reality, just nothing and a whole lot of brain juice squirting like jets from my brain exploding. I can barely utter a word, as her pure perfection is much more astounding up close. She laughs at my sudden jitters and cringes, but still talks to me. YESS!!!

5 minutes, 20 seconds, and 4 milliseconds later…
“Well, I gotta get to my other class. Nice talking with you…” She says as she scurries away with the school bell. Even in a sad moment such as this, her voice is still as stimulating as ever!
A short conversation, but through it all, I learned many defining qualities of hers. She is an incredible girl for what she is, but also for what she isn’t. She is real, not a fake, plastic chick, who pretends to be they’re somebody they’re not. She can laugh, a full-volume laugh, not a tiny giggle like a bratty fake-infested girl. She’s also one of the very few girls with the magnificent combo of beauty and brains. Out of my league and out of my reaches, but regardless, a quest for the princess as I am the village clown; I shall persist indefinitely.

Four months of hiding behind my locker and staring at her butt when she walks, and time seems perfect nonetheless for something special. After sixth period ends, my body arouses with excitement and I feel a slight wet spot on my pits. A short walk to my locker and I see, from across the hallway, her beautiful face. In the darkness of my locker, I yell to myself, “I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!” The rush of adrenaline is powerful, almost invigorating, so I, as an act of instant defiance to my disposition of shyness, yell at her to stop.
Every ounce of noise settles and eyes of every kind peek from every inch of the hallway. “What…the shiz…did I just do?” I whisper.
She turns around and gives me a dead stare. Constant quivers of fear chill my spine, but a hangover of adrenaline creeps upon me, and I explode the few heart stopping words, “Do you…want to go out with me!?” Soundless anticipation…everyone’s just waiting, waiting so silently.
She continues her frightful stare and turns away like a computerized robot; not a single sound uttered…
“Awwwwww…” Everyone sighs as I’m rejected.

What went wrong? It could’ve been anything: my horrible style or my pale skin. Clearly, I am not worthy. However, I won’t quit…the last strand of persistence is shining dimly, but it won’t break now; I will hold on until the sea of promise arrives.

Nightfall…after awaking from the nightmare that has harassed me since the day I met her, I vow to myself, “She WILL be mine.”

A movie-worthy year has passed, and the new and improved Calvin Thach of 8th grade has arrived. An unchallenged new style, a blindingly smooth tan, and a myriad of sexy dance moves are at my disposal. If there’s an award for most improved sexiness, I’m surely the one to win! Sexy girl, here I come!
The fresh scent of a new school year and new beginnings; this school year is not going to suck! I start scouring about, searching for the pretty girl, but as I do, the bell rings. Strange…isn’t it?
I dance and strut through the hallway, discontent of my beginning misfortunes…wait! From the distance, she appears magically. Without the same old, intransigent timidity, I walk up to her.
“Hey…how you been?”
“Hey…you look kinda different.” She says.
“Oh really, you’ve noticed?”
“Yeah, you got more pimples. Not very sexy, isn’t it?” She says sarcastically. “Well I got to go. See ya later, I guess.”
A less-than-expected expectation; not even a single glance or regard to my new sexiness. However, it’s not a problem, I got this…

Three months later, I thought everything was going to go smoothly and she would be mine by now, but the Calvin Thach of new is ultimately the same as the old; just a self-induced illusion to convince myself that my endeavors aren’t misleading. When I try to touch her hand, she slaps me, literally…in the face. When I get close to her, she moves away, faraway…to a table filled with guys. When I try to talk to her, she punches me, hard…on my “boys,” if you know what I mean.
It seems like the movie star girl always ends up with the movie star guy, while I am the movie’s geek…it seems like the prince falls in an effort to climb Rapunzel’s hair, while I’m the prince…it seems like the dragon has eaten the village idiot, while I’m the village idiot. However, in this story of redemption, the behind-the-scenes geek is the greatest dancer ever…

Two months after New Years, a group of African dancers visit our school for a dance performance. Smooth motions and slow footwork; it’s absolutely boring and of no interest to me. In closing seconds of sharp contrast, they burst into a frenzy of jumps and crazy dance moves, just awesome.

“Who wants to danceeeeee? Come on guys, feeeeeeeeeeeel da rhythm!” The dancers scream. Whispers zip across the room as everyone wonders whose going. Is this my last chance? In a matter of seconds, the brave one’s, including me, rise from the stands and blaze to the stage.

Enthralled by nervousness, the music gradually begins and we begin to dance. “Uh….Wow…” the only reaction we get from the crowd, as we dance like hormone-crazed chimpanzees. A bad performance that left us all humiliated and left HER unimpressed. We all leave, except for me. Standing alone, in front of the crowd, I DANCE, Calvin Style!

Smooth body waves and effortless glides across the stage, I have the crowd at my mercy. Moonwalks and aerial spins throughout and about, the crowd is going to blow the roof off this place! Surging with pure adrenaline, my chance to impress is now, but sitting so carelessly, she gives me no sense of enjoyment. I peer into her eyes as she peers into mine: one gaze of hope into one lifeless stare. Gut-wrenched and demoralized, I fake a smile and leave the stage.

Is the Great Wall of China holding me back? Did a space ray create an invisible barrier betwixt us? Did lions bite off my legs so I can’t chase her? Am I going to keep chasing an uncatchable girl on an endless road or turn back countless miles and only to find myself at whence I began? I graduated and went to the dinner dance alone, you probably know why.
Its 10th grade now…9th grade was a blur with a lot of pain through desire. With a silent year of deep thoughts and quiet reflection, I’m ready to make my decision. It’s hard: holding onto my hopes like brittle glass but only to have it fall with my butterfingers and watch it shatter before my very eyes; crying a years worth of tears in a single night but only to feel my self drown without dying; dreaming a terrible nightmare but only to wake up in another agonizing dream, which happens to be reality. I’m done with the pain and sadness; to live it anymore I shall not do so. No more…so what do I choose?

My heart belongs to her, and I’ll keep fighting and trying harder than I ever have, even beyond the very end. Even if it takes twenty lifetimes, I’m going to do it! Never going to give up...

Oh, I never mentioned her name, which happens to be…