Life is slow in Surtain, California, but time still passes, and the people here are nice, something that can't be said about all cities in America. Surtain is highlighted by a small pond that all the kids in the city go swimming in during the summer, and a lake that hundreds of people fish in, but never catch any fish. The weather's nice, and you don't have to worry about getting shot when you're walking downtown. Just a small little suburbia.

My Dad lives in San Francisco, he has a home there with his Wife Connie and my little step sister Veronica, or Ronnie, like I call her. It's a brick house on the outskirts of the city, and it's three times as tall as it is wide. It has precisely placed green ivy that creeps up the wall, and reaches out like a hungry toddler in a grocery store, as it covers the front of the building. I used to want to live with him but I gave up when he forgot to tell the judge that he wanted to take me with him like he promised. I've never asked him about it since then, but I admit my feelings were hurt.

I don't have much that I can call my own. My name isn't even mine, it's been passed on from generation to generation all the way from William Thripp I, who lived in England and moved to Chicago about 200 years ago. I think I'm the VIII or IX, my Dad always forgets to tell me and I never ask. I'm not in want for anything though, I have plenty of food to eat, and I have all the clothes that I want. It would be nice to have a new Gateway computer, or a Burton snowboard, but I can live without them.

There are a lot of kids in my position that take the time to feel sorry for themselves, and ignore the fact that they have homework to do. It is hard to come form a broken family but it's not worth it to sit around and cry about hoping your parents get back together, or your Dad would spend more time with you. I get good grades though, but not because of an intense effort towards my schooling, I'm just smart. As conceited as that may seem it is the truth. I play a lot of sports, but only for entertainment, I'll never be a super star like Kobe Bryant or Tiger Woods, but I could hold my own in a basketball game down at the park, and beat my grandpa when we play golf.

I'm going to be rich when I grow up, I decided that years ago. Fifteen years of living in this humble house, has instilled enough drive in me to make a good living. I am determined to be described as affluent by my peers, even if I have to sell Ketchup Popsicles to women in white gloves, I'll get it done, I have to.

I've never been in love before, but I thought I was once. It's funny though because during that time I was sure that I was going to marry Lisa, but I guess it takes two to tango. She wasn't that pretty anyways, and my brother said she talked too much. I wasn't heartbroken when she broke up with me but I was shocked to say the least. It was only for a month in the 8th grade that I got to hold her hand everyday, but it was 6 years that she walked home from school with me, and played hide and go seek with me, and sat on her rope swing while I would push her. I still remember when she moved into the house on the corner of Leifert and Ohlone. She was holding a brown cardboard box with "Lisa's stuff" scribbled on the side.I was driving in my mom's car and I leaned forward on my window till my forehead smudged the glass and watched in amazement of my new neighbor. My mom made me go over to her house later that day, and gave her mother a bundt cake and welcomed her to the neighborhood. I leaned on the left leg of my mother and she stood in the freshly painted white doorway of her new home and smiled back at me. Oh well though, I'm over it now. I'm a sophomore now, and I haven't talked to her since the spring of eighth grade when she said we shouldn't go out anymore. Every once in a while I have dreams when we're 10 again and we're sitting on her swing talking about why dirt tastes so bad, and how much her Dad's feet stink when he comes home from work.

I realize that things happen for a reason though or at least I hope they do, I have trust in God or whoever is controlling things that he'll take care of me, and have some beautiful girl waiting for me down the line, who had her heart broken, or broke someone else's heart, so she could be with me. I haven't found her yet though.

The school bell rang as I simultaneously took my seat on a mundane Monday morning. Mr. Fiddel was taking attendance, peeping randomly above his lowered black rim glasses, as he always does. He always waits for students to come in late and I determined earlier in the year that it there is some type of satisfaction he gets from taking down the names of the students that are absent, or 2 minutes late. Mr. Fiddel always amazed me in his approach towards school, the way he was always excited about everything whether it be teaching about the Mayan Indians, or giving us some lame lecture on why we should read the newspaper on a daily basis. How anyone could be excited about corn farmers and stone temples, or suicide bombers and poverty always blows my mind. I'm good at history for some reason though, I always understand everything, but I guess there's not much room to not understand. I have been told before that it is important to know your history though.

I remember this one time in a deli in I had this conversation with perhaps the most peculiar man I have ever spoken to.

"My name is Dale, Dale Tryton," he said as he reached out his hand waited for me to shake it . At first I was reluctant to talk to him but after a while he was most entertaining.

"Name's Will Thripp, nice to meet you sir," I said as I sat down with my sandwich at the table next to him. We were both alone and I have to admit that it was nice to actually have somebody to talk to.

"I see you're from Surtain," he said, as he point to my Surtain High t-shirt. I nodded and said, "Yes sir, born two blocks to the right, and live 4 blocks to the left."

"It's a nice place," he explained and continued for another 5 minutes with his life story that I unwillingly let pass through my ears. He then got the subject of history and began asking me questions like, "What was the largest empire before the Romans?" I remember I got the answer right, but I can't remember what it was now. He concluded with an explanation of why I should always know my history, because it always repeats itself. "You should always know your history son, always. Because it always repeats itself, always."

I never really took what he said to heart, and that's certainly not why I do well in history class, but it's just one of those weird stories that I always remember.

My memory is impeccable, I can tell you what my 3rd period teacher was wearing 2 weeks ago, but my memory has never come in handy for me, other than in school. I remember everything, which is strange I guess, but I'm thankful for that talent. The fact that I have such a good memory makes it hard for me to do stupid things, because I know that I'll never forget how much of an ass I felt like.

I'm a pretty weird guy if I think about it, and I think about it all the time. I never say much in class but I always have so much to say. I like to keep my thoughts to myself though, because when I let them out in the open then there is a chance for me to be wrong, if I don't tell anyone what I think then there's no way that they can think I'm wrong.

School is a drag sometimes, mostly Monday mornings, when you have to come back to reality that the liberation from studies only lasts for the first 4 years of your life and 2/7s of your next 12 years at least. I like the fact that there's girls at school though, and I guess it's cool to hang out with guys and B.S. about baseball, and what the A's should do with their lineup. I don't get the chance to talk to girls all that much though now, after Lisa girls are just like platinum chains in a jewelry store, I'm too afraid to even ask to try them on, but it's still nice to look at something that beautiful. Not that I wanna try on girls or anything, I just wish that I could have one to talk to.

I looked around my history class at the tired faces that surrounded me, everyone of them had a story, Jane Bowen undoubtedly had a long night of drinking Saturday and is still a little bit hung over. Conner Madison probably got in a fight with his girlfriend and had to stay up late convincing her he still loved her, lucky bastard. Then there's me, I played basketball on Saturday down at the park, then studied and watched TV last night, before I went to bed at 10. I was well rested but still just as tired as everyone else in the room. Tired of the same life that I'd been living. Tired of being alone.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was 10 minutes into class and Mr. Fiddel was starting his lecture on World War II. I remembered doing the same thing last Monday and the Monday before. I put on my "paying attention" face and searched my mind for anything to think about that would be entertaining. My mind soared past old memories, baseball games with my Dad, bike rides on sunny summer days. My mind halted as a fox of a young lady walked through the door and handed a note to Mr. Fiddel. It was a new girl in my class. What classic teen love stories always start out with, a new fresh face amongst a surplus of old bored ones. She's my girl, she has to be. Her face was glowing, as she smiled and took the seat next to me in the back of the class. I smiled at her and said, "so you're new here, huh," and put my feet up on the back of the chair in front of me.

She smiled and moved her creamy hazelnut hair that was in front of her eyes behind her ears, "I guess so," she said after a short giggle, "I'm Cassie, what's your name?"

I have to admit Cassie isn't my favorite name but she was to die for. I waited for a while to respond, then with a short of breath I shot out, "Will - Will Thripp,"

She took out a piece of paper and began to take notes like everyone else, I figured I'd already blown it. Anybody who says that it's easy to talk to girls must have a lot of practice. I sounded like a complete idiot, I might as well of said, "Hey I'm Will Thripp, I'm the kid that nobody hangs out with and no girls talk to." God, I wish I could just be invisible sometimes, at least I wouldn't make an ass out of myself all the time. It's always so stressful for me to talk to people. If it's up to me to start a conversation it probably won't get started, and if I am going to respond than it will usually be one of three responses; yes, no, or I don't know.

The bell finally rang, and first period was over. I put my binder in my backpack and slid the straps onto my shoulder and began up the narrow aisles of the class room. A gentle hand tapped my shoulder, and when I turned around the beautiful face of the new girl was looking at me with her innocent eyes.

Her mouth moved in slow motion, or at least seemed to move in slow motion, as the words rolled off her full pouty lips, "You're going to show me around today, right?"

Before I could respond she grabbed my arm and started walking. I was a nervous wreck and I wasn't even sure why. I had walked with girls before plenty of times, but not with girls like Cassie, she was amazing, she smiled constantly just like the cheerleaders on ESPN, but it wasn't phony like their smiles. She was wearing what seemed to be a brand new white knitted sweater with pants that hugged onto every curve of her slim young legs. We were having a conversation but I wasn't involved in it, I was too busy being completely smitten by her. I'm sure that I asked her where she lived before Surtain, and what her father did, and what class she had next but I was too busy falling in love to remember her response.

That day went by in a complete blur; I daydreamed through Spanish, fantasized in Language Arts, and planned what I had to do to make Cassie mine in Chemistry. It wasn't simple of course, but definitely achievable. I had walked her to every class that day, and assumed that I had an obligation to take her home as well. It would be during that walk home that I'd propose for a date on Friday night, the movies, definitely the movies. There was a new tearjerker at the multiplex, the kind of movie any girl likes, the kind of stuff I'd manage to make it through, as long as I got to sit and hold hands with Cassie throughout the whole thing. This was just a beginning to what was going to be a lifetime of happiness for myself, and Cassie.

My heart was racing, finally some excitement, something to make me happy, to detach myself from everything that used to be my life. There was a new girl at school, and she was going to be mine, for now, and hopefully forever. No more mundane Monday morning, every morning would be exciting, every day would be fresh and new with Cassie. I leaned back in my chair and soon the old cracked ceiling faded to a room that I'd never seen before, but I could tell it was mine. She was eating greasy chicken chow mien out of a white box with a bright red temple on it. The bed was ruffled and Jeopardy played in the background. She was beautiful still, even in her flannel pajamas, and an old Budweiser t-shirt that I wear when I work on my car. She smiled at me and slurped up the noodles and I laughed and wiped the soy sauce off where it splashed on her cheek. The old ceiling abruptly became visible again when the bell echoed throughout the rooms and halls of Surtain High School.

I gathered my things off my table and left the room for the courtyard where I had specifically instructed Cassie to meet me. I ran now, for the spot under the tree where she would hopefully be awaiting me with her two binders in hand, and that smile that could make any 16-year-old boy melt like a Popsicle on the 4th of July. I approached the tree and my heart leapt, I had stopped running by then, and I casually approached the young woman of my affection.

I could see that her lips were moving, she wasn't smiling, but she was still beautiful. Her binders were missing too, but it wasn't cause for anysuspicion. I skipped towards her and raised my voice a little as I said, "Hey, ya ready to go?"

With my next step I was in position to see the picture as it actually existed. What was missing when I first saw her across the quad. Josh Beckett was leaning with one arm on the small oak tree, and the other bulging arm was wrapped around Cassie's binders. His white teeth shone, as he smiled and held out his hand for me to shake, "What's goin' on Will, so you've met Cassie too, huh?"

I nodded and said, "Yeah, I showed her around today. Do you want me to walk you home Cassie?" Her voice was different from before, when she said "No, Will, it's okay. Josh said he was going to drive me home. That's okay with you, right?" I stood in disbelief for what seemed to be a decade until under a laugh Josh said, "Well alright Willy see ya later man."

I stayed there for a few minutes and then walked myself home to my humble house. I should learn to get used to things like this. It will probably happen again, at least a dozen more times in my life. She wasn't that cute though, I mean she was cute but she wasn't what I was looking for anyways. I always liked blonds and she was a little bit skinny. Someone else will come along.

I put the door and jiggled it a little before turning the dull brass door knob to the left. I trudged in slowly, settled deep in my couch and turned on Ricki Lake. It was the old theme of geek to chic, where kids that used to be ugly in high school got plastic surgery or took steroids, and now they want to show the people who made fun of them that they're hot stuff now. They always talk about how they should get respect and how hard they worked to get to where they are. It's remotely entertaining the first time you see it but, ultimately annoying after seeing it three times.

I sat in an almost depression as I looked back on the events of the day. How I almost thought I fell in love, and how I was stupid enough to imagine a life of eating Chinese food in a ruffled bed with a girl that I didn't even know what her last name was. There'd be another girl though, and if there isn't a girl 25 or 30 years down the road, and I'm sitting in my loft looking out over the Embarcadero center in San Francisco I'll get over it. I can't make someone love me anyways.

I picked up a puzzle that was sitting on the faded scratched surface of what we called a coffee table, and began fidgeting with it. It was one of those tile slide puzzles; it had a corny picture of a bright yellow smiley face on it. Its eye was in the bottom left corner next part of 2 adjoining pieces of its happy smile. After ten minutes of shifting and sliding, without much success, I was tempted to pull the pieces out just to put it together. I could just pry the corner of it with a pen or something then put the happy little face together. I was too lazy though and just set it down, then watched the bony bookworm turned beefy babe pick up her old bully and spin her around in the air.