Dear Diary – by Shanna
He said he wasn’t going to kiss anyone until his mission was over. Can you believe that? I mean, what does that even mean? There we were, eating dinner at Johnny Rockets, and he looks up at me, his fry halfway to his mouth, and he says, “I’m not going to kiss anyone until my mission is over.”
“What?” I said. “You don’t have any missions.” I stared at him in confusion and the ketchup dripped off of his french fry, landing in a puddle on his plate. I hate ketchup. I always make him get his own order of french fries, that way I won’t have to worry about him dumping gross pureed tomatoes all over my food.
“I know,” he said. “I’ve decided this summer that my mission is going to be to build up the endurance to run 10 miles.”
I looked at him. He, run 10 miles? There’s no way that he could run 10 miles, let alone 1 mile. Don’t get me wrong. I like the guy, but running is not his strong point. And now he had the nerve to tell me that he wanted to run 10 miles and wouldn’t kiss anyone until he had done it. And he’s just sitting there at the table, eating his hamburger and fries, waiting for me to say something.
“Are you serious?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said. “I want to try out for the track team next year. I can’t exactly focus on running if I’m thinking about kissing, now can I.” He waved his hand around and I could see ketchup fly onto the table next to us. Luckily it was occupied by only one person and she was sitting in the opposite seat of where the ketchup fell.
I told him that I didn’t realize that thinking about kissing took up so much of his focus. He said something about having a clear mind and then changed the topic, to some gossip about some party next week.
But I still can’t believe he said that to me! I mean, the way he said it, he just implied that I was some bothersome nuisance, some thing that he just couldn’t think about right now. I can just picture him – running in circles on the outdoor track, laughing because I believed his stupid story about wanting to focus. He’ll probably turn the corner on his last lap and some new girl will be there, waiting for him, someone that he won’t mind focusing on, someone who probably likes ketchup and doesn’t mind sharing her fries with him and probably eats tomatoes and shrimp and onions – all the foods that I hate but I know he loves. Maybe he’ll get so dizzy from running in circles that he’ll end up puking on his new girl. But she’ll probably think it’s cute and will whip out her bottled water that she brought for him so he can have something to drink.
But anyway, I digress. He was still talking, but now he had moved onto that new album that just came out. I tried to pay attention but all I could see was the ketchup falling from his fries, drip by drip, and the puddle kept getting bigger. I wondered how there was any ketchup left on his plate as he seemed to have spilled it all on the table.
Finally he finished eating and stood up; we were ready to go. “Don’t be mad, babe,” he said as he tried to grab my hand. “My mission will be over before you know it.”
And then I came up with the best response. I said, “I’m not mad. I’m just thinking that my mission for next school year is going to be to get better grades. And you know I have to focus on that so I guess I won’t be kissing anyone until my mission is over.” You should’ve seen his face! He looked so surprised. I just smiled at him and walked away.