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imagine that to be true.
    “Marshal! Wait! Marshal!” Dave and I are already halfway out the door before Kim’s voice turns me around.
    “Unbelievable, dude!” Dave hisses before jogging away.
    “Marshal!” Kim is a little out of breath when she reaches me. She is wearing this not at al sexy loose fitting white blouse that shows absolutely nothing, and it is driving me crazy. I swear I am not usualy like this, but she does things to my brain functions.
    “What can I do for you Kim?” I hope I sound like I am stil irritated from this morning.
    “No one was doing the right play.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “The play! Everyone was just up there talking—I had no idea what about, and I learned the whole play!” I have never seen Kim even a little nervous. She is always cool and colected and ful of answers. Right now I am very afraid that Kim is going to burst into tears. “The whole play? You memorized al of Much Ado About Nothing?”
    “Wel, most of it! Didn’t you? What were talking about? ‘Brewster and Roosevelt’? I didn’t understand a word you were saying.”
    “You didn’t understand me, like you couldn’t hear me? Or like it wasn’t funny? It’s supposed to be very funny.” My heart is pounding more now at the idea that I’d blown my bit rather than at the sight of her trying to catch her breath.
    “Wel I suppose it was funny, but what does that have to do with Shakespeare?”
    “Not much, it’s from Arsenic and Old Lace. It’s a dry humor though—like Benedick.”
    “I don’t understand!” She is almost screaming now and al the color is gone from her face. I am very worried she is going to have a nervous breakdown and al I can think of is calming her down. What in the world am I going to do if she pukes in the halway?
    “Okay, let’s get you out of here.” I take that seven hundred pound bag off her back, (no wonder she was out of breath—who could run with this thing?) and slip one arm around her waist to steer her towards the parking lot.
    Her impending breakdown is obviously my first priority, but I am an excelent multi-tasker and an entire section of my brain is devoted to memorizing the feeling of light headed giddiness brought on by being this close to her. I take her directly to my truck. It is an old hand-me-down pick up from my uncle, but I love it. There isn’t a whole lot of room in the cab for her, me, and al her books, but I squeeze us in and turn the key in the ignition. Nothing. Nothing again. Then I remember—I decided not to stop for gas this morning because I was worried I’d miss Kim at her locker. I thought there would be enough to make it to the Shel station on the way home. Why does Dad never offer me the keys to his Corvette?
    “Oops. No gas.” I could not be more embarrassed. This never happens in my day dreams. Two years I have been waiting for Kim Penney to need something from me, and no gas!
    “There’s more room in my car anyway. I have a gas can in the trunk—we can come back for your truck.” She is totaly cool with my complete and utter failure as a man. That somehow makes it worse, but I am determined so I hurry back to the passenger door and help her out.
    “What about my books? I need my books.” She mumbles when I put her into the passage side of her own car. I swear she is in some kind of shock, but al my medical training comes from reruns of ER so I could be wrong.
    “We can get them later, when we come back for the truck.” Putting her car in drive I head towards the coffee house on Oleander St.
    My mom always offers people hot beverages when they’re upset. They serve their scones on doilies and have realy obnoxiously pink to-go cups here, but the coffee is good. Plus I have always thought it was kind of a date-ish place. And whatever, I know this is not a date, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.
    Inside, I find us a table in the corner and thankfuly Kim no longer looks like she is going to puke. We are sitting on