Drabble 1: Beginning.
He's starting to think staring at the back of Natalie Goodman's head in every class for six years isn't the best way to win her heart.
What's he supposed to do? Talk to her? One does not simply talk to Natalie. In fact, he's pretty sure no one does talk to Natalie. Maybe she likes it that way? She's never complained about it, before. Though.. maybe she's lonely. Maybe he could whisk her off her feet and declare his undying (seriously; undying. Ever since she walked into his 5th grade class, he's been head over heels.) love for her, and she'd be so whooed by his charm, she'd have to love him back.
Okay, even he knows that's a stretch. But a boy can dream, right? With any luck, he'd work up the guts to offer her gum or ask her to borrow a pencil. Baby steps.
He's over-analyzing what flavor of gum she'd like best when he hears a cacophony from the practice room. He looks around, as if to check no one's watching, and presses his ear to the door: classical. Yeah, that's Natalie Goodman, alright.
He's torn. Should he walk in there, embarrass himself in front of the potential girl of his dreams? Or, should he wait to buy a new pack of Trident? Both? He swallows the lump in his throat, pushing open the door.