I made it through that first day of classes and the obligatory introductions to other kids, some of whom I thought likeable, others not, but it was not that which commanded my attention. I didn’t see her again that day and it was only the anticipation of that possibility which kept me going. Disappointed, I moped home with sis who met me out in the front of the school at the end of the day. That night in bed, I went over and over in my mind how I must have looked to her in our brief, distant encounter when Pauly pushed me into the classroom. Did I look like a fool? Would she compare me to him, always so cool and in control? It occurred to me that I had no such concern for the opinions of anyone else. Love was hard I decided, perhaps too hard. Strangely, it seemed as painful as it was joyful, the delight in the anticipation of contact and affections at odds with the fear of the discovery of one’s inadequacies and ultimate rejection tearing at the subconscious without merci or quarter. And there was Pauly. Who was he? What was he? I had been singled out by him in some way for some reason when clearly there were boys who would qualify as so much more cool than I, who like him commanded deference from everyone. It made no sense, but then little had to at that point. I drifted off to sleep thinking of her face and the smile she had presented to me that day. I realized that I wanted desperately to pray that I would see her again soon, but that desire was burdened with the weight of my rejection of the possibility of God’s existence, but it was right that we be together. Surely there was some force which would see to it.

The next few days were repeats of the first. I spent all my free time that week, during school with Pauly and Bobby and one or two friends of theirs who joined us from time to time. I gathered they didn’t have many, which I thought odd in a way, given their willing, immediate befriending of me. As time passed, I came to understand, as I had suspected earlier, that some of the kids were afraid, not so much of Pauly but rather about him, if that makes any sense. But then, so was I. He was approachable but not open, so few were able to get close to him, partly because he rarely spoke, except to Bobby and me and then only at certain times, which were not always predictable. Even the adults in school and the town treated him cautiously, which was unusual in that he was so young. Time would reveal the reasons I thought so I never pondered the issue for very long, but rather enjoyed the mystery, just one of so many in that small town.