Disposable Bubble

This is Part One of a story that was originally published on BEAM, an online content curation reward system, on January 18, 2018.

Robert Powers

It was October of 1987.  A Friday.  Sitting in the backseat of his father's 1978 Chrysler Lebaron, the boy devised a plan to win the girl.  The girl and boy shared the same desk in Mr. Cooper's room during different periods.  When he got back to school on Monday, he would write a note on their desk.  Maybe she would write back.

The question that consumed the boy all weekend was, of course, what the hell to write?  Even at age 13, the boy knew that his plan was a little ridiculous.  It was the plan of a boy who lacked confidence/swagger.  It was the plan of a lonely poet; the plan of a loser.  Still, the boy's brain whirred with possible combinations of words that could get the girl's attention.

Arriving at school on Monday, the boy had no idea what he was going to write.  When the bell rang for second period, he walked out to the hall and saw the girl leaving "their" room, which room he now entered.  It wasn't until he had put his backpack down, taken his books out, and listened to Mr. Cooper announce the date of the next quiz that he noticed some new writing on the lower right quadrant of The Desk.

To be continued...