Post-it®- Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide fiction
"Why is it raining Post-it® notes?" I asked as Ned showered me with bright sticky notes. I pulled one off my nose.
He set down the now empty box they had been in and grinned. "You get to sort these while Cookie and I go to the arcade."
I started to stack the notes that were scattered in my hair. "And why do I have to sort them?" But catching the light in his eye, I knew he was one puppy dog face away from the arcade. Didn't mean I couldn't try.
"Because I need a girl's opinion. And since you're the closest girl I could find, congratulations!" I stared at him like he was crazy. "Please? I'll be your bestest friend forever." And cue puppy dog face.
Oh how I needed a bulldog face to win. I will get it eventually. Unfortunately, today isn't eventually. Today is sticky note day. "You know, one day your face will get stuck like that." And then we wont be able to kiss, love each other forever and get married in a cute little catholic church that we've never attended in our lives.
"Moze?" Ned waved his hand in front of me like the people with the flags at the starting lines in races, pulling me out of my fantasy.
"So I'll just get to sorting these notes then and-". I got cut off by Ned's cell phone. He held up a finger to signal me to be quiet, even though I had already stopped speaking.
He paced back and forth in my room, glancing out the window from time to time, mostly making small comments between what the other person was saying. When I heard him say goodbye, I pretended I was engrossed in one of the notes. Truth be told, if you ask what the note said, I wouldn't have the slightest clue. It's very hard to try and eavesdrop and read at the same time.
"Cookie bailed on me to have pizza with Lisa. Apparently it's the opportunity of a lifetime." His air quotes dropped to reach for a sticky note.
I pushed my hair behind my ear, discovering another note. I stuck it on his arm. "Who's lifetime exactly? I know you'd rather be hanging around a certain brunette." He tilted his head as if he hadn't understood what I meant. Who else could I be talking about rather than the ever famous, to him anyway, Suzie? "Crabgrass. You know your crush since like forever. And a day."
He slowly tilted his head back to its normal position, nodding like a bobble head. "Right. Of course. Suzie is my crush." His words came out choppy, like it was painful to say.
"That's what I said." I grabbed a sticky note off the ground. We made a mountain of a pile on the bed, stacking at least a foot tall. "I'll still help you. Are these things color coded or something?"
He picked up a green paper. "Green means survival tip. Pink means song titles to add to my iPod. And blue are miscellaneous." He handed me a pen and notepad that seemed to appear out of nowhere. "We should write them down so I don't lose them."
I gave each page a different title, leaving enough space to fill in all the notes. I picked up a green note. "Never tell kids scary stories if you don't want to wake up to the smell of wet beds in the morning." I copied it down, giggling at the look on Ned's face.
"That was a bad week at Camp Caboodle. I had to do 8 loads of laundry on a Saturday morning. And since I put in too much soap, the washer flooded." He flung himself forward, getting a note stuck to his forehead. He tried to read it cross-eyed before giving up and pulling it off. "Pay mom 5 dollars back for movie ticket." He trashed the note. "Moze, can I borrow 5 bucks?" I kept writing and didn't bother to look up.
My hand started to cramp up at about note 278. And laughter definitely wasn't the best medicine. With a few papers left in the pile and a couple scattered in various places we reached for the same note. At the same time. Our hands brushed together, making him immediately jerk back. The Post-it® that had been stuck to him came flying in my direction. I caught it and held it to myself, reading what it said in my head. And although it was a pink note it seemed like it belonged under the green pile.
He grabbed a hold of my face, gently removing the sticky note from my cheek. His left hand left my face, but the right one stayed intact. As he read it to himself I noticed his breath getting deeper as he inhaled and exhaled rather loudly. "What does yours say?" He asked, seeming strangely nervous.
His nerves were contagious. "Listen to Your Heart." I started breathing like him, trying to supply enough oxygen to my brain. His hold on me was hypnotizing and I couldn't break free of it. "What does yours say?"
His hand traveled from my chin to my cheek as he dropped the pink Post-it®.
"Kiss the Girl."