Pursuit.

Well, it's been a while since I sent an email to y'all. And... that's merely because I've been quite busy. School is a beast. But I'm doing all right. Actually, what I have to talk about is my social life. In particular, my social life with the boys. That's honestly the only interesting happenings lately. It seems there has been a sudden spike in dates. Ahhh!

Of note, I brutally rejected John. Sad day for him. He was the one who: I met on a blind date on Valentine's day, randomly showed up at my door when I really didn't want to see him, asked me on a date to dinner at his place, I refused (I don't trust him) but decided instead to take him to the humongous roommate group date where there would be plenty of people at which he insisted to make the hamburger buns himself from scratch (they were actually quite good), volunteered to fix my computer, and actually did fix my computer. I think that's where I left you guys hanging last.

Nice guy. Except I kind of couldn't stand spending time with him for more than small time intervals. He was a tad annoying. Well, the day after the big group date, I receive a text from John. "Would you like to come to dinner tonight?" No, I wouldn't like to come to dinner with you. Ever. Plus, I'm home sick from church feeling miserable. I text back "No thanks, I'm not interested." I thought that was polite. But apparently I wasn't direct enough. "Oh, are you still sick?" comes the response. I text back, "Yes, indeed." Then: "So would you be interested in dinner some other time?" Blegh. I repeat, "No thanks, I'm not interested." No response, so I figured he finally got the message. Except that twenty-four hours later, I receive a slightly bitter text: "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Sorry to disappoint you." I didn't respond... I figured that getting a text like, "Oh, I'm not disappointed, I never had my hopes up in the first place" would be a bit brutal.

Okay, so the other guy I mentioned from last time -- Jared. As a refresher:

Jared is probably the quietest, shyest guy I've met in my entire life. I remember I had a brief conversation with him at a ward prayer back in January. In late February, I finally realize... he keeps following me around at ward events trying to talk to me. Except that's a difficult task, since I'm kind of like an excited little puppy bouncing around trying to say hello to everyone and give them all hugs, etc.

After this realization, I stop the puppy-act and stop and just talk to him for a while. It seemed like he was struggling to make conversation, like he didn't know what to say, but I find out that he works at Teriyaki Stix, and exactly when he works, and that in two weeks he won't be working there anymore. I told him I'd go visit him.

So I'd better get a move on. One Tuesday at lunchtime I dash over to the Cougareat and head straight for Teriyaki Stix. I see Jared at the register, looking a little down. I walk up, and when he sees me, it was like sunshine just filled his soul. He perked up and was visibly happy to see me. "I told you I'd come visit you," I said. He just kind of smiled and stuttered. Aha! Suspicion confirmed. The shy guy likes me.

As I am waiting for my food, he suddenly pipes up. "Jenna! I'll call you tonight!"

I smile. "Okay, I'd like that." And then my food is ready, and I leave.

He did call, and that resulted in a date to the Hunger Banquet that Friday. He bought me a rose. Afterwards we played Boggle.

At some point he gathered enough courage to call me again. So we went on a date to Divine Comedy. It was kind of funny though -- he had already asked all the questions he had asked last time. And I could almost see him beating himself up every time he realized he'd already asked that question. So I started to take over the conversation and ask new questions. After the show was over, he took me home. And I just have to say -- the hug at the end was goooood.

So on Sunday, I find him in church. I sit two seats behind him, unbeknownst to him. The plan was to just conveniently be right there after sacrament meeting so I could talk to him. Except my plan was thwarted, because there was a ward choir musical number, so in the middle of the meeting I had to get up and walk right past him. He looked shocked. I kind of wanted to laugh. During the musical number I could see him watching me in my peripheral. I walk back to my seat; he smiles at me and is now noticeably tenser for the rest of the meeting. Aw, poor guy.

After the meeting, he walks up to me and says hello. I greet him, and then I ask, "So... which Sunday school do you usually go to?" Turns out he usually goes to the Conference talks one instead of gospel doctrine, where I usually go. "Well then, let's go to conference talks!" We did.

And then last Saturday, I am doing my laundry early in the day, and I get a call from him. I answer it and he proceeds to ask if I'd like to come country dancing with him that night. Heck yes.

So we go country dancing. In all the dance classes I've taken, I've gotten pretty good at following the guy's lead. I've also learned that dancing is basically a socially acceptable way of holding hands and holding close anybody who'll dance with you. Haha.

After an hour and a half of dancing, we are both kind of tired. He mentioned that he had gotten a movie for his birthday a few days ago. I suggested we go watch it. So we did.

Or at least we started it. Midnight came and so I had him take me home, so we didn't get to see the end. On the way home, it occurred to me that I might actually be comfortable with the idea of dating him. Hm. That's never happened before. So I plotted, and asked, "So... when are we going to finish the movie?"

Jared blinked. "Um, er... when do you want to?"

I thought for a moment, then said, "Well, honestly, I don't have time until Friday... when do you get out of class?"

"Two," he said.

"Hmm. That's a bit late for lunch. Well, we can do it at dinner. In fact, we could make dinner!"

"Okay!"

"So... what shall we make?"

At this point he was looking quite pleased. He piped up. "I don't know, but we could go shopping to get the ingredients for whatever we make beforehand..."

"Yes! Let's do that. So... how is Friday at 4?" I responded.

"Good." We decided to do it at my place. And while we'd finish the movie, we'd look through cookbooks until we found something particularly appetizing and within our budget.

Whoo! You should all be proud of me for my slyness and smoothness. And especially my boldness.

Yesterday at church I came with the intent of sitting next to him. I scan the room, only to find that he is sitting where the sacrament-passers sit. Dang. That means I don't know where he's sitting. Oh well. I walk straight up to him: "Jared. Where are you sitting?"

He seemed to like that. "Uhhh... two seats behind Sterling."

"Okay. I'm going to sit by you." And I left to secure my space... unfortunately the only empty seat there was right behind him, so when he came back he was tense again because he couldn't see me but he knew I was there. He seemed like he was kind of nervous, and if I could warrant a guess, I think he was probably trying to think of what he would say to me after sacrament meeting was over. I think I was right because as soon as it ended, he turned around and said, "I picked which Sunday school to go to last week. So it's your turn to pick!"

Ooh, good one. "Let's go to gospel doctrine in the West wing!" We did, and sat next to each other. The roll got to him first. Then he passed it to me and mumbled something I didn't quite catch. I found my name and realized he had marked it for me and what he had said was "I marked you." So I laughed and replied, "So you did!"

We had to separate afterward for Relief Society and Elder's Quorum, but not before a hug. After church I was socializing in the lobby when I suddenly realized he was next to me again. "You should walk me home," I suggested hopefully. He obliged.

On the way, he said quietly, "Are you going to the ward fireside tonight?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"Yay!" I exclaimed. "Can you walk me over?"

He liked that idea. He did walk me over, and we sat next to each other, and he walked me home as well. The ward gossip queen noticed us and came over afterward and pried the story out of me. Apparently it's a cute story.

And all my roommates get giggly whenever they see us together. They all approve and keep saying things like, "Jared and Jenna. It sounds cute." Okay, guys, whatever.

My roommates also kept telling me that a few other guys in the ward liked me. I didn't believe them until I noticed them drooping when they saw me spending so much time with Jared. Oh sad.

And that's all. Two and a half weeks left of the semester! Whoo! And then I move.

Bye, Jenna!

Finally...

February is over! I have an unbridled hatred for it. But March is here! Yay!

This week was pretty interesting. For starters, in biology I got to alter bacterial DNA to make the suckers glow in the dark. And then I made a bajillion copies of my own genomic DNA via a polymerase chain reaction (PCR). Don't worry, scientists do it all the time, particularly in forensics. Ever wonder how they get enough DNA to run a gajillion tests from just a few cells? PCR, my friends, PCR. Join all the molecular biologists in the world and sing praises to God for it. So... yeah, that was pretty exciting.

Except the molecular biological glory was immediately quashed when I came home from lab and checked the transaction history for my checking account only to discover that someone has been illegally taking money out of my account. Well, crap. Fixing this involved a ridiculous amount of stern phone calls. Which in and of itself is as horrifying as the thought of identity theft. By the end of the night, I had made more phone calls in a mere couple of hours than I had in the past six months. I don't remember ever being so exhausted, but somehow by the end of it, pressing the "Talk" button wasn't so traumatizing as before.

The next day I was not well-rested, so I suspect I was operating on reserve energy. I barely scraped by in my classes. Upon the arrival of lunchtime, instead of going home, I had the sudden urge to go to the Cougareat. Specifically Teriyaki Stix. But not because I was particularly craving an orange chicken bowl, but because a guy in my ward worked there.

Jared Keeley is among the shyest and quietest guys in the 26th ward. However, at the last few ward functions he's been following me around trying to talk to me. Among the things I've found out about him is that one of his jobs is a TA in the electrical engineering lab, but the other is cashier at Teriyaki Stix, Tuesdays and Thursdays from noon to 2pm.

When I got to Teriyaki Stix I was pleased to find a nonexistent line and Jared at the register. Sweet. He was pretty much beaming when he realized that I had come to visit him. While I was waiting for my food, he said, "Hey, Jenna! I'll call you tonight, okay?" That was, indeed, okay.

That night I went out dancing with Jace to practice quickstep for DanceSport (we're competing next week). Afterwards, I discovered that Jared had called me. So I called him back. And then he asked me to the Hunger Banquet on Friday. I was pretty excited, because aside from the creepy guys I didn't want to date, I hadn't been asked out since... since... early June. I'd been on a few blind dates. And then Carlos didn't actually ask me on a date, he just barged in and practically announced, "I need a date. Any volunteers?" And I was the only one not busy (because I was the only one who hadn't been asked out already). Pretty lame, if I may say so.

I live in a six-person apartment... but I guess you could say more people live here than that. Among the unofficial residents is Shannon's best friend, Lisa. Lisa decided to set up a roommate group date -- which meant we all had to find boys to ask. Darn. I had one in mind by the name of Matt, but I didn't end up asking him.

So, perhaps you might remember John. He's a little weird and a little full of himself, but all in all, not that bad. Last Saturday I was home sick watching old Star Trek episodes like a bum. And the doorbell rang. I recoiled at the sound thereof, and fled upstairs when I peeked out the eyehole and saw who it was. It was John. I climbed in bed and pretended to be asleep, hoping beyond hope that someone else would answer the door and inform him that I wasn't home, or else that he would just give up and leave.

Except no one else was home. And he rang the doorbell a few more times. Then he started knocking. He's going to be here forever unless I tell him to go away. I reluctantly trudged downstairs and answered the door.

"Hi!" said John.

"... ... Hi," I answered, trying not to glower too much.

"I, erm, was, uh, just happened to be around, and I, uh, wanted to say hello --"

"Hello." Well, John, you succeeded in saying hello. Congratulations.

"Erm, does your doorbell work? 'Cause, uh, I wasn't sure."

"It works just fine," I said in brutal honesty.

John blanched. "Well, yeah, hello, and, um, I'm sorry I didn't call this week, I've, er, been kind of busy --"

Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Anthony had asked my permission to give John my phone number because he had asked for it. I gave him my permission. "Oh. I've been busy too. And sick. I'm sick right now." I emphasized my illness.

"Oh, yeah, well, uh, that's too bad... erm... I'm busy this weekend, but, uh, maybe we could do something next weekend?"

"Okay."

"Yeah, well, uh, I just wanted to say, erm, hello, so..."

"Hello," I responded again.

"Yeah, okay. Feel better... bye."

"Bye." And I shut the door. Okay, so I suppose I'd better explain. It's not that I disliked John or anything like that. But -- I happen to be like all the other women in the world and I get witchy upon occasion. When this happens, I prefer not to interact with people. I hole myself up until it passes, because I don't want to insult the entire world and then have to fix it all later. So -- I didn't want to talk to John. At all. Anyone could have tried to visit and I would probably have met them with hostility. I am usually able to restrain myself from saying anything rude, but masking the cold tone of voice and the glare is a little harder. So... now he probably thinks I hate him. An hour later when witch-Jenna was gone, I started to feel bad for him.

But kudos to John for bravery (either that or he doesn't pick up on social cues); he called me this week, but I missed the call. In the voicemail message he asked me if I wanted to come to his place and have dinner, play some games, and meet his roommates.

I called back. "So, about Saturday," I said. "I can't come to your place, but... we've been planning a roommate group date. So you can come to my place for dinner and games and meet my roommates." What I didn't say was -- I don't trust you, John. If there is going to be a date happening -- it is not going to be one-on-one, it is going to be on familiar turf, and that's that.

He didn't seem to mind coming to the group date instead. He offered to bring some food to help. Well... Lisa wanted to make hamburgers, because apparently her grandmother has the best hamburger recipe in the world... so... "Well, you can bring hamburger buns, I guess."

"Okay, sure thing. I'll even make them myself!" came the response.

That took a minute to process. Wait. He wants to... make the hamburger buns? What? Who the heck makes hamburger buns? Well, apparently John does. And thus he weaseled his way into coming over a tad earlier than everyone else so he can use our oven. I told him it would be just fine if he bought them, but he insisted.

So... yeah. Just a little bit weirded out. ... This boy is weird. I am beginning to understand why he wasn't able to get a date to Divine Comedy. Apparently, he had asked sixteen girls and they all said no. Heeeh.

Anyway, Friday came, and with it came more illness. I kept waking up during the night feeling nauseous, or coughing, or unable to breathe. I finally had to get up for class... I went to class, came home and felt miserable. Now this just isn't fair. Tonight is the first date I've actually been asked on for nearly ten months and I get really, really sick? All day I could hardly keep what little food I ate down. Now this is just miserable.

Shannon was sick with something else, and her boyfriend came over with soup. Aw, how sweet. He let me have some too. I think it was miracle soup, because after a small dosage of that, I felt much better, and when Jared came, I felt ready to handle a bowl of rice and beans.

Jared and I went to the Hunger Banquet. Well, the whole point of this thing is that it's supposed to be an eyeopening experience to the inequality in the world. People are randomly assigned to "lower class", "middle class", and "higher class." Then they are served different meals according to their rank. Lower class, seated on the floor on top of a bunch of collapsed cardboard boxes, gets a teeny bowl of rice and beans and one paper cup of water... and they are served last. Middle class sits in chairs around the edge of the room with a slightly better meal, a styrofoam cup of water... served second. High class sits at fancy tables at the front of the room, and are served a full three course meal, with nice overflowing goblets of water that get refilled before the drinker has a chance to empty it. And, of course, they get served first. The vast majority of people in attendance were escorted to the lower class section. A few were taken to sit with the middle class, and virtually no one was taken to the high class section.

Since my tummy was not speaking to me, I fully expected and actually hoped for a mere bowl of rice and beans. However, as my luck would have it, Jared and I were escorted directly to the high class section. How ironic. I was probably the only one in the room who wanted to be lower class, and what do I get? High class.

My first course came -- tasty bread and a big plate of salad. Hungry eyes stared at us from the entire room. This was kind of sad. In between performances, Jared and I talked a bit. The performances were from various cultural groups and were very enjoyable.

Then came a hefty plate full of pulled pork, divinely seasoned mashed potatoes, and buttery corn. Then the middle class were given a measly plate of something else. But still, hungry eyes glared at us.

Little kids were walking around, mumbling in their little kid voices -- "Buy flower for dollar?" They held bouquets of roses. Jared leaned over and said, "You want a rose, Jenna?" I did want one, and he got me one. Yay! I haven't gotten a flower of any sort from a boy since... since... ... ... freshman year of high school. And that was from my stalker. Lame.

Then -- a bowl of chocolate chip cookie a la mode. Finally, the lower class was served, and they ate pretty much nothing. Now they really glared. After the banquet was over, we learned a dance, and then Jared took me home. Except I forgot my keys, and no one was home. So we went to his place and played Boggle, until one of my roommates were home to let me in. Then I went straight to bed. I was so tired from pretending not to be as sick as I was... thankfully though, all that high class food settled well in my stomach. It seems my tummy accepted the peace offering. Still, I slept horribly.

Saturday... blegh. I wasn't really looking forward to the date, because my head felt like a balloon about to pop. Hillary's friend did a Mary Kay party at our house just before the date, so we all looked like supermodels by the time our dates arrived. (I'm not sure I liked the makeup she did for me. It was a bit dramatic for my taste. And she used blue? I usually don't, just because when I do that, suddenly eyes look even bluer than they already are and it's basically demanding, "NOTICE ME!" Sometimes I'd rather not be noticed.)

John came over early on his motorcycle with dough. He cooked the buns in our oven. And then randomly our conversation turned to malware and such. And, being a computer techy guy, he took on the task of fixing my computer. I have to admit... it works like new. He was very thorough. I think he noticed that the latest search on my computer was "weather 84606" -- so now I have a nifty little weather gadget embedded in my browser. Nifty.

I couldn't help but draw the connection though -- the last time anyone's gone through this much effort to do things for me -- it was Michael Smith, Mr. Fix-It, and he was fixing every drawer in my kitchen and tightening every screw he could find. That kind of made my heart sink. I really hope this boy doesn't like-like me as Michael did. Initiate denial sequence now! I just don't want to deal with it! My hope is that if he noticed what my last Google search was, that he also noticed the picture on my desktop. BYU people have an annoying tendency to assume that if you have a picture of a missionary friend, then you're waiting for him. Perhaps John has also made this assumption. Cross your fingers! :D

It was the most ginormous group date I've ever been on -- eight couples. Ridiculous, huh? There were burgers and hot dogs, potato salad, fruit and vegetables, chips, and lemonade. There were lots of games and stories told... and pretty much, there's not much else to say. John was his usual aloof and awkward self. By the end of the night I was SO glad it was over. Too. Tired. To. Function. Agh!!! The End.

Icy Tumble.

Happy Valentine's Day and President's Day! :D I have some stories for you!

Valentine's Day morning I woke up mightily early to get in line to buy a new contract for next year. I decided that although I despise moving with a passion -- I'm going to move out of dear little 366. I wasn't sure at first why I should move out. It came as a shock; Sunday night, out of the blue, I had the strong impression that I should not live here next year. I was quite confused. I'm happy here. I love Hillary and Rachel, who have resolved not to move out of 366 at all. Possibly not ever. I like my ward, I'm close to campus, etc.

At dinner group though, I mentioned that I wanted to move into a different apartment, and my neighbor Josie (who I don't actually know very well) mentioned that she too wanted to move out. We got to talking, and we soon realized that we'd be good roommates, and thus we resolved to room together next year. It was strange, but I felt really calm and peaceful about it, although neither of us had any clue where we'd end up living. I had a roommate, but no room.

I worked up my bravery several times during the week and visited a bajillion women's apartments in the ward, because although I felt like I shouldn't live in 366, I had the peculiar feeling that I'd be moving somewhere close by -- somewhere else in Monticello, specifically. However, after exhausting myself by acting outside of my comfort zone, I came home feeling uneasy about everywhere I had looked.

I woke up the morning of contract signings still unsure as to where I should live, which was a little scary. However, now was the time to act. Apartments at Monticello go fast. Like... crazy fast. I went out into the outside world, where snow was coming down fast. I felt a little strange. I don't know how to explain it. I had to sign a contract NOW and I didn't know which apartment I was going to live in yet. But I just felt like Josie would know exactly what to do, even though I didn't.

Indeed, I found the line already extending past the laundry room (eek!) but I found Josie standing near the front of the line. She grabbed me and, with a gleam in her eye, said, "What do you think about white brick?"

I stood there in shock. I hadn't even considered white brick. Pretty much, those are the only Monticello women's apartments that aren't in my ward, and I hadn't even remembered them. I've never seen the inside of them. And the peace inside of me told me that that is where I should live next year. "Yes," I said. "I think that's a good idea." I paused. "What are they like?"

Josie had never seen them either. But Melanie, also in line, had. She described them to us -- bigger bedrooms, LOTS of closet space, slightly bigger living room, two bathroom sinks, and the toilet and shower in their own little room next to the sinks. That would be splendid. Josie and I signed contracts for spring, summer, fall, and winter. I went home feeling wonderful.

In the evening, nearly all my roommates either went home for the weekend or left on dates. Alone in the kitchen, I felt a craving for Ramen, and decided it was a good idea to take advantage of such a cheap craving. I did scramble an egg and drizzled it in the pot egg-drop soup style though, to add to the nutritional value. Tasty. Valentine's Day Ramen. Mmmm. Just as I started to eat, my phone rang.

What? My phone? No one ever calls me! It was Hillary. That's strange, she just left on a date. She asked Anthony to go see Divine Comedy with her. He is, in my opinion, among the cutest guys in our ward.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jenna! Do you want to go on a blind date? And see Divine Comedy?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, one of Anthony's friends is here with an extra ticket and no date."

"What time do I need to be there?"

"Seven!" It was six-fifteen.

"Okay!... What is my date's name?"

"John."

"Okay, bye!"

Excited, I hung up, finished my Ramen concoction, and ran out the door. I had to stop running though, because the roads and sidewalks were ridiculously icy. I got to the Stairs of Death by the duck pond, and warily eyed the stairs. I could see my reflection in some of them. I gripped the handrail tightly and made my way up the stairs. I nearly slipped and died several times on the way to the Wilk, but managed to stay on my feet somehow.

Once at the Wilk, I found Anthony, Hillary, and John near the middle-front of the line. I talked to John a bit, and it was pretty much only the basic questions. We got into the show (which was AMAZING). We sat near Kerstin, Cherish, Liz, and Claire, which I thought was fortunate, because although I visited them, Cherish had been home. So I got a hug from her.

After the show, the Anthony, Hillary, John, and I walked home. We tread very carefully, and John put spikes on the bottom of his shoes to be safe. When we got to the stairs, and the four of us gripped the handrail as tightly as we could, and tread carefully. However, halfway down, I stepped -- and instead of supporting me, my foot slid up into the air -- my hands were wrenched from the hand rail --

I must have had some torque going on because, in the air, I spun ever so slightly -- and I landed heavily on the left side of my thigh on the stairs -- and then onto my stomach --

But it did not stop there -- there was no friction between me and the stairs -- I slid down them, and I could not stop --

My face met the icy stairs, albeit rather gently in comparison to the violent impact my leg had made earlier --

Sliding down, I saw three horrified faces as I slid down -- ka-dunk, ka-dunk, ka-dunk -- until, finally, the median handrail stopped me.

"JENNA! Are you okay?" screamed Hillary.

"Yeah," I said shakily.

John helped me up, and escorted me by the arm the remainder of the way home. I was winded, and my throat was tight with fear, so when I spoke I sounded like I was crying although I was not. I probably should have been though -- I was in a lot of pain. We went to Cold Stone and got some ice cream. (It was cold enough that the ice cream warmed us up.) I got a strawberry shake, John got a banana split. We got to talking while Anthony and Hillary were waiting for their treats.

"Did you doze off during the show?" asked John.

I was surprised by this question; it had been amazing. "No, I did not."

"Oh. I thought I saw you jerk a couple of times during the show."

I laughed. Oh, I see. "I have a tic disorder of some sort," I explained.

"Ah, I understand then. I also have a neurological disorder. I've got a tremor. See, my hands always tremble a little, in case you hadn't noticed." I had. It was ever so slight, but it was just barely noticable.

And then I had a nerd moment. I couldn't help it; it just came out. It just happened. "That's a lower motor neuron problem!" I commented.

He kind of laughed to himself. "It is indeed. My dad's a neuropsychologist."

After ice cream, we headed back to my apartment, and we played Apples-to-Apples until midnight. John and I tied with eight green apple cards -- pretty much owning everyone else. The guys left and went home. And I went to bed.

Last night there was a triward fireside, during which I spied a very good-looking boy. I decided I would go talk to him afterward. After the closing prayer, I made my way over to the refreshments where he was (of course) gravitating. However, I looked down at my coat and realized with mild horror that my fairly-new coat was missing a button. Oh dear. I had it when I said amen at end of the closing prayer, so it had to be here somewhere. The coat came with extra buttons, so it wouldn't have been the end of the world if I couldn't find it, but I set to work looking all over the floor for it anyway, the cute blond boy forgotten.

A guy from the 171st ward stopped me. "Excuse me, you seem to looking for something. Are you looking for me?"

I laughed. Very clever. "Well, no, actually. I've lost my button. Have you seen it?"

Instantly, about twenty good-looking men in suits and ties were scouring the floor for one measly little button. They made it seem like an intense game with heated competition. Soon enough, one jumped up. "Is this it?"

It was indeed, and all the guys cheered. "It was meant to be!" I heard repeatedly. "Now you have to exchange numbers!" "GIVE 'IM A HUG!" "Twoo wuv!!!" Well, the guy looked mighty pleased with himself (his name was Matt), and I thought it was funny. I did indeed give him a hug to express my thanks, but I didn't bother asking for his number. Even if I had the number and I wanted to take him on a date, I knew I wouldn't have called it. (Stupid phone phobia.) I would have given him mine, but he didn't ask for it; I don't think he particularly wanted it.

Another guy in the crowd did continue to flirt (the one who originally asked if I was looking for him... now that I think about it, I should have gotten his number... dang...). Bryce (in my ward) leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I dare you to go hold his hand. He totally wants you to."

I glared over at him. "No, I'm not going to do that." Even if he is cute. I believe I've mentioned Bryce before, but let me refresh your memory. This is the guy who knocked on our door one night and explained that he needed a girl to cuddle with -- any girl. We, of course, refused him. On a separate occasion, I was visiting another guy at his house, when he just came over and began to cuddle. I demanded that he get off me. He did.

Bryce shook his head at me. "You should. He would like it." Yes, probably, he might, but I'm not going to. I continued to glare. Bryce changed the subject. "I've got some hats you need to look at. I'm going home right now, or I'll be there right at nine to take stuff out of the oven." He was of course referring to my tradition of wearing a cool hat to every ward prayer, and he did indeed have some cool hats.

"Okay," I said.

"All right," he said. "I'll see you then." He proceeded to caress my shoulder and back.

I again glared at him, as coldly as I could. "Don't do that. Please."

He laughed and replied, "I love you because you're a nerd and you're awkward. And you're fun to tease."

I was not at all happy with that comment, but managed to pull off a calm face. "...You love me because I'm a nerd and I'm awkward?"

"Yeah, and you're fun to tease. You have an abnormal personality. You mean you haven't noticed?"

Hillary, who was standing nearby, heard all this and interrupted. "Bryce! That's mean!"

He stopped for a moment and considered. "Oh. I guess that could have been taken as an insult, huh?" No, Bryce, you think?

"Yes!" answered Hillary. "That was mean!"

"Well, I meant it as a compliment, honestly," Bryce retorted. Hillary glared. "Er... a back-handed compliment?"

I shook my head and left, with Hillary and Rachel in tow. Rachel immediately began her complaints. "Jenna, how do you do that? I turn my back on you for five seconds, and you're surrounded by twenty men!" Oh yeah, the button incident. I shrugged. I don't know, I wasn't really doing anything. Just looking for a button. And it doesn't even really do me any good, because my flirting skills are nonexistent. Whatever.

To be honest, Bryce's comment kind of bothered me, especially because it came from him. I'm awkward? I just have to wonder if it had ever occurred to him that knocking around asking for a girl to cuddle with -- any girl -- was actually VERY awkward. And that the general consensus in the female population is that such behavior is, indeed, awkward. No, probably not. He probably thinks that is a most clever thing to do.

But the reason such the comment really bothered me is because it kind of renewed my concern that my actions (or lack thereof) are being misinterpreted by the guys in my ward. I probably confuse them. And that's depressing. I don't regard physical affection as something you do casually with just anybody, or to be funny, or to use in flirting with a stranger, etc.

Someone explain this to me. How is this confusing?

I hug my friends, or people I'd like to be friends with. I don't cuddle with, or hold hands with, or let guys put their arm around me unless I am in a romantic relationship with them or I'm interested in establishing one. Really. I want to know. How is that confusing?

Because, see, I would have thought what a surprising amount of other people at BYU do would be much more confusing -- just holding hands and cuddling with any old person whether or not they're interested because it might be funny or because they just happen to think it'd be more comfortable that way (which it would be).

It's not that I think cuddling or holding hands in and of itself is awkward -- definitely not. I've always wanted to do so. Never have done so, but I want to. Really bad, actually. I mean, that's one of the ways in which I feel close to people, and therefore, it only makes sense that I be careful with it. I bond primarily through physical affection... the people who don't let me hug them are most often the ones I feel most distant from. The ones I get good hugs from are the ones I feel closest to.

I do, however, think it's awkward when the amount of physical affection people show towards each other does not accurately reflect the actual status of their relationship. So, no, Bryce. Don't put your arm around me. Don't caress me, don't cuddle me, don't. It's rather obvious you're not interesting in dating me (leastwise you shouldn't be; you've got a girlfriend) and I'm not interested in dating you. Stop pretending like we are dating.

Okay, I'll get off my soapbox now.

Have a good week and such,
Jenna Griffin

News!

No, sorry, no exciting news. Just a general update to the general populace, aight? I don't expect this'un to be long.

First -- academics. Not much to complain about. I'm waltzing pretty darned well, when I remember the routine. Neurobiology is by far easiest class, unless you count New Testament. Oh, and family history. But as far as religion classes go -- compared to the other classes I've been taking, they're a joke. Don't get me wrong; BYU religion classes are hard. It's just I kind of forget when I'm studying for them that it's a class. So they don't count. My hardest class is neuroanatomy. It also happens to be my favorite class.

Second -- social life. Y'all should be proud of me. I have recently discovered what the difference between me and the center of the party is: I expend energy in social situations, whereas your classic extrovert gains energy in them. I come home from socializing more exhausted than when I spend the same amount of time exercising. I don't think anything I do will change that.

Despite its exhausting nature, I have been quite good at socializing this semester. Reveling in my unemployment, I have endeavored to memorize everybody's name in the ward and be to carry on a decent conversation with all of them. I still have a loooooong way to go. I get all the many Matts mixed up.

Among my social accomplishments this semester:
-- About every other day I go to somebody else's house for dinner.
-- Every two weeks I cook for them instead.
-- I actually invite people over.
-- I actually go randomly visit people.
-- Most of the people in the ward know my name.
-- I actually try to go to party-esque things.
-- Although I study better alone, I attend more study groups.

Be proud!

I actually also had a date last week. No, none of the guys in my ward...

Meet my friend Carlos Alett Osorio Rueda, age 18, from Mexico. He comes over to our apartment on occasion -- and that's a bit of a hike from where he lives. He lives right across from the MTC (about a thirty minute walk from our house). He knows us because he knows Ron and Aubrey. He is just one of those people that when you see him, you just have to jump up with your arms in the air and yell, "Carlos!!!" And, whenever he visits, that's exactly what EVERYBODY does. He's an interesting chap. By my judgment, he is one of those extremely shy guys with an extroverted facade. He is fluent in five or six languages -- English, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Arabic, and Hindi. He uses big words a lot, and is a teensy bit narcissistic.

Thursday night I said goodnight to Shannon, who was studying on our bedroom floor, when there was a knock on our closed bedroom door. "Come in!"

Carlos pokes his head in timidly and explains that his roommate just last minute decided to do a double date tomorrow and that now he needs a date. Then he looks at Shannon and asks if either of us want to go.

Shannon declines and explains that she is busy. (She had a date scheduled for Friday evening, Saturday morning, Saturday lunch, and Saturday evening... all different guys... This is typical of Shannon's weekends.) Carlos looks over at me then, and well, I didn't have anything better to do, and this is my friend... so... "I can go," I said, looking tired and a little bit like a drowned cat lost in a quilt trying to stay awake. What can I say, it was 11:30pm. Groggily I wrote my phone number on a slip of paper for him, kicked him out, rolled over, and fell straight to sleep.

The following evening, Shannon and I got ready for our dates. I finished getting ready first, and then helped Shannon with her outfit. Her date told her to dress in the 20s style, so I lent her one of my hats and one of my little silk flowers. She looked pretty amazing. Feeling a little inferiorly dressed, I borrowed her French beret. There.

Shannon's date showed up first. I let him in, but Shannon wasn't quite ready yet. He was dressed all spiffy-like in 20s garb too and introduced himself as Jaren Meldrum. Once inside, he made a beeline for our bookshelf. Aside from our ginormous wall of missionary pictures, on the shelf closest to the ceiling I have a little magnetic picture board that Rachel's mom gave me for Christmas. I had printed a few duplicate pictures for it, but it was teeny and I can only see the very topmost picture if I try to put them all on. Tonight the top picture was of Elder Strong (that's Ryan) feeding some kangaroos peanuts.

He inquired as to who it was, and I told him. "I thought that was him. I picked him up from the airport. And that's at the Gorge. ... I was probably there when that picture was taken. I might've even taken that picture!" He then spied the wall full of pictures (you've have thought he would have seen that first...) and found all the pictures with Ryan in them. And then he told me exactly where each picture was taken.

Small world, eh? This sort of thing has actually happened a few times with some other missionaries on our expansive wall, including Dallin and Cliftonius. Only at BYU would something like this be commonplace. Soon, guys'll be looking at all the pictures on our wall and suddenly we will hear one exclaim, "Hey, that's me!" We've got a bajillion nameless companions up there...

Shannon and Jaren left for their date and I was left all by myself. And Carlos didn't show up until forty-five minutes after he had said he'd show up. But he did show up eventually, looking a little ruffled and distracted. We piled into the back seat his roommate's car. His roommate, Joseph, was driving, and in the passenger's seat was Joseph's date named Ericka. According to the guys, the plan was to make pie. To say the least, I was pretty excited.

But first -- to the Creamery! We needed lemon juice if we were going to make lemon meringue pie! Ericka was also starving and begged Carlos to buy her dinner. He consented and bought her an entire pizza. He offered to buy me food, but I told him I'd already eaten. Then he offered to buy me groceries, but I thought that was a tad ridiculous. At the checkout with lemon juice, a pie crust, and a pizza, I saw cashier Kerstin Wheatley! It was exciting.

We finally went back to Portuguese House where Carlos and Joseph live. I'd been there before because Carlos made us enchiladas. They were tasty, so I figured our cooking adventures would turn out all right. However, making the pie was a little rocky. Several things were not done as they should be, and when I'd comment, Carlos would just tell me to trust that it would turn out. Eventually we got the lemony goodness filling into the crust, and then into the fridge. We all decided not to top it with meringue because none of us really liked meringue anyway.

While the pie was in the fridge, supposedly firming up, Ericka pulled out coloring books and watercolor paints. I grabbed the Care Bears coloring book, and ripped out a page that said, "I love you!" with a Care Bear holding a ginormous heart. I painted it. With skill, much to the amazement of everyone else.

"What are you going to do with that when you're done?" inquired Carlos.

I thought, and answered, "I shall send it to my brother. He's in Mexico."

After the Care Bear, I ripped a bird picture out of a different coloring book. I painted those for Carlos. Then I abandoned the coloring books, and just started painting on blank paper. I started with a classic triangle-shaped Jenna. Then I decided to attempt a guy. I suceeded painting one in a Sunday clothes. I decided that would be Alex since he didn't have a name badge. (Alex isn't allowed to wear his missionary name tag all the time. Sad day.)

I also painted a French moustache and soul patch on Carlos. Ericka and I both loved it, but Carlos kept fidgeting and complaining about it. Then Ericka and I painted moustaches on ourselves. Then he pinned down Joseph and gave him a Hitler-stache.

We broke out the pie -- but it was an epic failure indeed. Carlos was devastated, and felt obligated to buy us all ice cream. We went back to the Creamery. Carlos looked humiliated because of his painted 'stache, but the rest of us flaunted ours, taking a gajillion pictures as we went. We went back to his place with ice cream and watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail -- until Carlos fell asleep. We left Carlos on the couch and Joseph took Ericka and I home.

So that is all for my social life. Sorry I don't have any other exciting stories to tell you about. No, I don't have a Valentine, nor anyone in particular that I wish was my Valentine. This will be my twentieth Valentine's Day, and still alone! Sad day. I think I'll spend Valentine's Day... erm... sleeping. And doing homework. And maybe I'll invite people over for dinner or something. Ooh, I know, we should have a breakfast cereal party! ... It will be amazing.

Ooh, I'll invite my former FHE brothers! Oh, sad story. Dan and Alex Seegmiller, whose guts I love, have been chased out of their apartment by bedbugs. They are no longer in our ward. Rachel and I are trying to convince them to pitch a tent on our lawn and live there (we promised we'd feed them...) but they have yet to accept our offer. (Is that against the Honor Code?)

And they left just when we were starting to make progress with Alex's hugphobia. I mean, really. I very deliberately stood three feet away from him and exclaimed "ALEEEXXXX!!!" like I always do when I hug him. And he came forward and gave me a hug, immediately afterwhich he crossed the room and gave Shannon a hug too. Yesssss! Still though, if you hold on too long, he reverts back to being as stiff as a board. Sigh.

Even worse than my favorite 26th ward brothers leaving -- I got a new one that creeps me out of my mind. No hugs for him. His name is Ben. He pokes me in the side a lot, complains loudly when I don't hold eye contact long enough, steals my computer to pull-up weird YouTube videos, and randomly stops by with no-bake cookies. I sometimes get the feeling he is evaluating me as a test subject for some strange experiment. When he comes over, I make a point to hide upstairs in my room.

As far as I am concerned, he is a disgrace to the name Ben. I always wanted to name my oldest son Benjamin and call him Ben, and if creepy brother Ben sullies that name I shall be quite upset with him. Quite.

Speaking of Benjamins -- this is for Elder Ben Poulsen!

Clifton could very possibly be dead (!!!!), Ryan lives, Alex lives, Zach lives, Dallin lives, Will lives, and, yes, Ben lives. I've heard from all of them in the past week via letters/ emails/ blog posts (viva la Internet), except for Clifton, who I haven't heard from since December. He's dead! *panic!!!* Anyway, I neglected to inform everybody last time that Ben, too, lives. I'm sorry, Ben. It won't happen again.

The end. Send me word of the goingson in you people's lives. It makes me feel loved to see stuff pop up in my inbox.

Pizza Guy Serenade.

Apologies, apologies, apologies! It has been far too long since I sent out an email to y'all. Life has been pretty good. Busy, but good. Like… extremely busy. And an email is long overdue. Sorry!

I had a date two Fridays ago… but don't get too excited, I hadn't met him beforehand. See, being so busy and all, I haven't really had the opportunity to be noticed much by the guys in my ward. After mentioning this to Shannon, she decided to organize a group date, and she proceeded to set me up with her friend Carl. I had absolutely no objection to this, seeing as I hadn't been on a date for four months.

So, Friday night comes, and Shannon has pumpkins! And she made pumpkin dip, too, based on a recipe Rachel's mom had given us. Carl called to say he would be late, but Shannon didn't mind too much. See, Shannon had been having difficulty finding herself a date. No, it's not that she didn't asked anyone, but rather… every guy she's asked has been busy. She finally asked a guy in our ward named Jacob whom she'd been hoping to not have to ask (he likes her, she doesn't like him back, and she would prefer not to lead him on). After that had been worked out, Carl showed up, and the four of us sat in our living room for a moment until Jacob came. Then Shannon announced, "Okay! Let's go! Service date at the Wilk!"

We journeyed up the hill that we all live at the bottom of. Shannon and Jacob talked, and Carl and I talked. Carl mentioned that this is his first semester at BYU and that he just got off his mission three months ago.

"Where'd you serve?" I asked.

"Albania," came the answer.

I blinked. … … "Oh," I said. "I know someone who served there."

He looked up in surprise. "You do? Who?"

"Michael Smith?"

"Oh! I know him!" Carl exclaimed.

Oh dear. Remember Michael Smith? He's the one who I'm pretty darned certain liked me last spring term. You know. The one that visited me every day, threw a surprise birthday party for me, tried to con me into holding his hand, and graced me with a piggyback serenade? The smiley, manipulative one. Remember him? Yes. Him. He also served in Albania, and when he got back he wrote the new Albanian grammar book that the missionaries now use. "Really?" I said.

"Well, not really, I know who he is, and I did a few splits with him, but that's about it."

Phew. Which means I won't have to deal with any Michael Smith stories. Good.

We got to the Wilk, where we proceeded to put to cut out the pieces for school bags. Once Carl and I got tired of cutting fabric, we moved to the coloring tables. We got to color alphabet books for kids. Much more exciting. I freaking love coloring. I found out some more random trivia about my date… he is the fifth of thirteen children, went to Mesa High, and is a mechanical engineering major.

At one point, Shannon's date bit me (Me: "JACOB!" Jacob: "What? It was Shannon!" Me: "SHANNON! JACOB BIT ME!" Shannon: "JACOB!"). Scary… I mean, in past times when a guy starts to stare at me, I always get a little scared and hear myself thinking, "He looks like he's going eat me or something. Run!" Then I'll reassure myself that that's ridiculous… but you know, now I'm not so sure. Jacob scares me now, more than ever. A hint for the guys: don't bite your date or any of the other girls in the date group. Bad idea. We don't like it.

After we got tired of coloring, we headed back to our place. We gathered our pumpkins, newspapers, knives, markers, graham crackers, and pumpkin dip, and headed over to the 4-plex, where our friend Kelsey lives. Now there were four couples. Kelsey and her boyfriend as well as a married couple (that Shannon, Carl, and Kelsey knew) made our date group a party of eight. There were four pumpkins, so one pumpkin per couple.

Carl and I got our pumpkin and immediately began plotting its fate. He grabbed a newspaper and started doodling design ideas. He wasn't very good at it and gave up pretty quickly, handing the marker to me. "Draw something," he urged.

I shrugged, and started to draw pumpkin-type faces with quick strokes. I was unhappy with most of them, so as soon as I finished one face, I moved to another idea. "Wow," I heard. I continued to draw, waiting for him to say he liked one. "Whoa! Stop! That one looks like a bunny!" I looked down at one face I had just drawn. Its eyebrows did look a little like rabbit ears I suppose.

"Yeah," I said. "What about it?"

"Can you draw a bunny?" he asked.

"Uh," I said. I drew a silhouette of one. I hated it. So I kept trying to draw a better one, and I thought I was improving, but Carl kept pointing at the original one I had drawn and saying he liked it. Although it was definitely not my favorite sketch of the many I had drawn on the newspaper, he admired it with such awe that I couldn't refuse. He also requested that we make it a killer zombie bunny. So I added an arrow through his head, and let it hold a scythe.

So Carl gave me the pumpkin and watched expectantly. "Uh… you wanna draw it?" I asked. He shook his head and answered that he couldn't. I shrugged and duplicated the bunny on the pumpkin. He just kind of watched, which made me a little uneasy. He was still watching intently after I had finished, so I then picked up the knife and started to carve it. I had carved out about half of it when I offered the pumpkin to him again. "You wanna carve the rest?"

He shook his head. "No… You're doing a good job." I sighed and finished the carving. This happens every time I end up showing that I can draw while on a date… the guy stops drawing and just watches me draw. A little frustrating, because I like watching another person draw just as much as anybody else. I don't really care if they don't think they're good at it or not. I mean, I don't think I'm very good at in the first place.

Well, after the pumpkins were carved, Carl kind of shuffled his feet and said quietly. "Uhhh… do you wanna go on a walk?"

I blinked. "Sure?"

"It's just that I need to, um, make sure my research paper was received, and I need to go home and do that on my computer and uh… yeah…" He looked very, very embarrassed.

Shrugging, I repeated my previous answer. "Sure, let's go." We walked over to his place, and he dashed to his room. I made myself at home on the couch. 'Twas a comfy couch, really.

When he was done, we walked back to Kelsey's place, Carl apologizing all the while. I'm sorry the system was down earlier, I'm sorry, you must think I'm a loser, I'm sorry, I feel stupid for having to do homework on a date, etc. I dismissed the situation as trivial more than once, but he kept apologizing. Whatever.

When we got back, we had caramel apples, and took pictures. Carl held a knife at my throat for one of them to be funny buuuut... It was scary. Very scary. Another hint for the guys: holding a knife to your date's throat is also not a good idea.

After the pictures we sat in the living room and talked for a while. Carl and I were pretty much done contributing to the conversation about an hour into it, after which everyone else talked and we just listened. When the conversation finally died down, we went home. And I got a hug. (Yay!) And that was the end of that night.

Well, the next morning was Saturday, and we had cleaning checks. The six of us spent hours beautifying our little apartment. By the time we were done, the inspectors came by and peeked around, and passed us. Oh, whatever. We all collapsed on the sofa. And then...

"Pizza!" someone said.

I gasped, and three of us (myself included) shouted, "TIMMY!"

Hm. This needs a bit of explanation. A month or so ago, we were tired and order an extra-large pizza with every single meat topping available. Plus pineapple. When we tasted our heavy-toppinged pizza, we loved and decided that such a delightful creation was worthy of a name. So, we named it Timmy.

I immediately pulled out my laptop and my wallet. My dad and I share a credit card, which I am only allowed to use in times of pizza emergency. No, I can't get candy or clothes or anything else with this card. Just pizza. And this was definitely a time of pizza emergency... six, tired hungry girls with no energy left to fix up a meal? This calls for Timmy! Times two!

I don't know if any of you have ever ordered pizza online... but it's pretty fun. It's a lot easier to mega-customize your pizza without confusing the heck out of the person on the other end, and they even have a space to fill in special instructions for the delivery guy. Then once you order, you get to moniter the progress of your pizza... it tells when your pizza is being assembled, and by who; when your pizza has been put in the oven, and who put it there; when they boxed your pizza, and who did it; when your pizza is on its way and who is bringing it to you.

It is, in short, amazing.

We ordered two Timmys: one with a thin, foldable crust, and the other with a thick, deep dish crust. Mmmm. And of course, as has become tradition, special instructions were along the lines of, "Serenade us, please!"

And the wait began. We watched the computer screen in suspense as it notified us of the adventures our Timmys were having. Finally...

"GUYS! TIMMY IS COMING! AND OUR PIZZA DELIVERY EXPERT'S NAME IS DANIEL!"

We all scrambled around the house for all the extra change we could find. Daniel is a man's name. This is promising for the prospect of a serenade... last time our delivery expert was a girl. And she did not even mention our request for a serenade. She just kind of sniffed disdainfully at our choice in pizza. But Daniel? Not a familiar name. This is promising! We separated our pile of random coins and dollar bills into regular tip and serenade tip. You can't blame us for getting our hopes up. Once the tip was assembled, we all watched out the window in eager anticipation.

Finally... a Domino's car parked in front of our house.

"Eee! Pizza car!"

"I can't see, is he good looking?"

"I can't tell from here! Can you see him? Does he look like the sort of guy that would sing?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I think he's cute though, but the window is too dark!"

We clamored around, unable to wait. Finally, the pizza delivery expert Daniel got out of the car with Timmys in hand. And walked up our sidewalk trying to surpress a grin.

"Guys, I think he's going to sing! He can hardly contain himself!"

"Eeeeeeeeeee!!!"

We opened the door.

"Uh hi," said Daniel. "Are there any guys here?"

"... No," we replied.

"DANG IT!" he exclaimed, handing us our precious Timmys. "I was hoping for some back up." He moved into serenade position. "Okay, so I thought of the most romantic song I know..."

And with that, he burst into song.

LOUD song. Head tilted back and guitar stance and everything.

"Just a small town girl... living in a LONELY WORLD..." And with that he continued. And he was into it. Three minutes, he goes into a guitar solo... after which he confesses that he doesn't know the rest. We don't care. The six of us burst into applause, and say, "Hold on, we need to get you a bigger tip!" We scrounge around the house for even more tip than we had originally planned... We ended up handing the guy nearly ten dollars in smalls bills and coins... which is nearly a 40% tip. But hey, he deserved it. And after he left, we mourned over our observation that he was married while we enjoyed Timmy. But oh, Timmy was good.

*If any of you are Facebook friends with me, I've been tagged in a video of our pizza guy serenade and you can watch the bit that we caught on camera. It was amazing. Although it was a million times more exciting in person than it is on tape. :D

Piggyback Serenades Among Other Birthday Surprises.

Saturday I turned nineteen. And it was one of the strangest birthdays I've ever had. No, no. Reword that. It was the strangest birthday I've ever had. I... don't even know where to start. It was interesting. It was a little scary. And yet it was probably the most fun I've had in a long time. Rachelle claims that this whole experience is... not put-into-words-able. I hope to prove her wrong. And this will probably be very long, but I hope it is entertaining. Or something.

A note on Michael first. He confuses me a little. Everything he does it so weird, unconventional, and often socially unacceptable, but somehow... still cool. I have no adjectives to describe him. Rachelle agrees. Somehow all these really, really strange things he does and says are somehow endearing. Just because he is constantly hyperactively operating, I think. He has so many surprises to throw at you... and it's like... I don't know... free entertainment? He just never stops. I don't know. I've never had such difficulty writing about someone. I'll write a paragraph, look back at it, and realize, No, no. That can't be right. That makes him sound just down right creepy. But he's not creepy. And then I try and fix it and it doesn't work... Whatever. This is my best try.

Thursday night, Michael came over (surprise surprise). I was sitting in the living room, and Ingrid was in the kitchen with the door closed. Our doorbell for our kitchen entry rang. I didn't move. I didn't feel like getting up and talking to people. Ingrid apparently was feeling the same way, and didn't answer the door either. When no one opened the door, we heard an insistent knock. Another pause. Ingrid finally answered.

There is a vent in the door between our kitchen and living room, so I could hear everything that was going on. Michael asked if I was home. Ingrid told him I was in the living room, and before I knew it he was sitting on the couch with me asking about my plans for the weekend.

Hm. Weekend? I thought, and answered, "Well... I don't really have any plans. We do have cleaning checks Saturday morning."

"Well, that's not very exciting."

"I know, and I feel like I should do something exciting, since it's my birthday and --" Oops. Shouldn't have let that slip.

"It's your BIRTHDAY?" Michael's eyes suddenly had this crazy glint in them. And it was really frightening. And I began to fear for my poor birthday. I could see plans starting to formulate in his mind behind his eyes.

"Yeah," I said sheepishly. "On Saturday."

Michael continued staring at me with that crazy glint in his eye, and an almost evil grin. "RACHELLE?!?!" he suddenly yelled.

Upstairs, Rachelle heard her name and answered, "Is that Michael?"

"MAYBE!!!" he yelled playfully.

"Oh! What do you want?"

"I NEED YOU!"

And with that I was shoved upstairs and Rachelle came down to conspire against me with Michael. Well, I could kind of hear them, but no actual words, so I busied myself by cleaning my room. Maybe if I cleaned I wouldn't have to think about it. Honestly, birthdays aren't a big deal for me. I don't really expect gifts. I just like being with the people that come with the gifts. And I like surprises. Just not when I know they're coming. "NO LISTENING!" Since I wasn't even trying to eavesdrop, I didn't answer. But I didn't hear them talking anymore after that. Then, at one point, I heard them go outside to discuss my fate. I could feel the beginnings of terror looming in my insides. Just don't think about it, Jenna. Don't think. There's nothing you can do about it anymore.

I was eventually called down, and we watched videos on YouTube with my computer together. Except I noticed that there was now a word document open on that little bar at the bottom of my screen. I looked sideways at Michael and then Rachelle. I had a little glint of hope that perhaps I could see what their connivings for me were, but after another hour passed on the computer the logical side of my brain told me that it was probably a planted fake conversation. After planning a surprise like that, wouldn't you be kind of paranoid about leaving evidence? And even if you did carelessly leave your conversation on my computer, after using it for an hour, you'd probably notice that you left it open and desperately get rid of it before the recipient of said surprise saw the evidence.

At midnight, Michael left, and Rachelle went to bed. I looked at it. First line said, "How about we take her to LA?" The terror came back instantly. And then, 'mid-freak-out, the logical extremist side of my brain tickled the back of mind to get my attention again.

"They wouldn't do that," it said. "That's too expensive a birthday surprise for poor college students. Besides, they aren't stupid enough to leave that on your computer that long. They left this on purpose, to throw you off." With a little more convincing, the logical extremist portion of my brain had restored my sanity, and then I was left to wonder about my fate again.

Friday went by slowly. I cleaned for a few hours, got tired of that. Stayed up until midnight just to say that I had been conscious for the dawn of my nineteenth birthday. And then I zonked out around 1am. I woke up again around 8am, and didn't get out of bed. I just laid there, meditating or something, I guess, until my little sister called me around nine to wish me a happy birthday. She passed the phone around until I had talked to my whole family, and then I finally got up and started to super clean the kitchen. As I walked in, I blinked. Wow, Rachelle hauled some trash in here last night. Well, I cleaned and I cleaned and I cleaned. And then Rachelle came home, and then we both cleaned and we cleaned and we cleaned. Cleaning inspections started at eleven. A little past eleven, someone knocked on our door, but it wasn't an inspector or a landlord. It was Michael.

"Happy, happy birthday, Jenna dear!" he sang, Primary style.

"Hello!" I said, sponge in hand. He looked disappointedly at it.

"You still cleaning?"

"Yes."

"You're always cleaning." He came in. Looked at our kitchen. And looked a little awed. He went back to his apartment to make his cleaner. Rachelle went with him to teach him how to line the stove with aluminum foil. And then she came back.

"Jenna! They're going to check our vents!"

"WHAT? That wasn't on the list!"

"They're checking Michael's!"

Dang. Well, cleaning the vents while they were attached to the walls was a strange endeavor. So Michael came, and took the vents off the wall. The screws that were holding them in were interesting... and Michael was so excited he got to use his tools. (He's a construction management major... so he has pretty much every tool imaginable AND he knows how to use them skillfully.) Well, after we scrubbed our vents clean and replaced them, I was hungry. I fixed myself a makeshift leftover lunch with mushrooms and sausage (mmm) and then, finally, the landlady came over to check everything. I shuffled my feet in the kitchen nervously. She started by saying, "All right. I'll start by checking the part that everyone always fails."

She went straight for the wall behind the oven. Felt it. And then turned back to look at me with a surprised look on her face. "But you've done an excellent job..." That's right. I spent hours on that wall alone. The grease buildup on it took forever to get off. I don't think anyone had gotten through that layer of grease and dirt and food splatter for years.

And then she continued through our kitchen and checked everything. And everything passed instantly. "Good job," she said. "This is the cleanest apartment in all of Red Brick." And I'm not going to lie, but that ushered in a bubble of pride. Cleanest in Red Brick. Finally. The landlady left, and I sighed in relief. Beat that. BEAT THAT.

Jackie usually gets asked on dates first, before the rest of us. And Rachelle tagged along once, and reported that she spread vicious gossip that I was messy and untidy and that I never cleaned. No. No, Jackie. I am convinced she doesn't know how to clean. She wimpishly wipes things. If she has to use any muscle whatsoever to get something off, she stops. And she only uses paper towels. All she does is spread germs around, not get them off or kill them. And I could go on, but I shan't. Suffice it to say that when she's grown up and married and her children get sick more often than mine due to lack of cleanth -- it won't be my fault. I've tried to teach her cleanliness and it isn't working.

I went to take a shower, and decided that since it was my birthday, I was allowed to have as long a shower as I wanted. The hot water was luxurious. I came out to hear a clamor in the kitchen, so I shut myself in my room and blow-dried my hair. Got dressed. Made myself pretty. Well, it was my birthday, after all. Who doesn't want to look nice on their birthday? But then Michael yelled up at me to come down. "JENNA! We have cake batter bowls for you to lick and presents to open!!!" Presents? Hm. Presents. I hoped that I wouldn't have anything useless. But I was excited to lick some bowls.

I came down to see Michael in an apron in my kitchen. He presented two bowls two lick. One was vanilla batter. The other was German chocolate. And he and Rachelle looked pleased. Kristen, my return-missionary neighbor (she went to Hong Kong), had also come over.

"Two cakes?"

"We marbled them. One is golden vanilla marbled with German chocolate, and the other is German chocolate marbled with golden vanilla." Hm. I had wanted a marbled cake. I hadn't told him though. I had told Rachelle.

There were two presents sitting happily on the table. One was very small, wrapped in tin foil. That was from Kristen. I opened it and found the tiniest book I'd ever seen, entitled, "The Paper Bag Princess." Now, I believe every girl should have this in their collection, and also every father's daughter. I also believe that every father should read it to his daughters as a bedtime story. It's short, and it's cute, and it's good.

Basically, a princess named Elizabeth is about to marry a prince Ronald. Except then a dragon comes, eats pretty much everyone in the whole castle, burninates her clothes, and whisks away her Ronald. Elizabeth then proceeds to look for something to wear, but finds nothing but a paper bag. She puts that on, and then decides to rescue her prince from the dragon. She finds the dragon and tricks him by taking advantage of his pride. He burns all the forests everywhere to show off until he's out of fire, and then flies around the world a couple times at supersonic speed to show off. Then the dragon passes out and Elizabeth finally gets to save Ronald... except then... we found out Ronald is a jerk. He takes a look at her, complains that she is greasy and ashy and sweaty and only wearing a paper bag, and tells her to come back later when she's dressed like a real princess. Well, Elizabeth tells him he's a bum and then leaves him there. And they didn't get married. What a happy ending, I think.

Then I opened Michael's present. It was wrapped in newspaper. I ripped that layer off. And then found it was wrapped in duct tape. Well, I got vicious, ripped that off. Another layer of duct tape? Graaawwrr!!! I ripped that off too. There was a garbage bag box, then. I opened that, found a whole bunch of newspaper in there. I ripped that out. And then, wrapped in aluminum foil and electrical tape, was a DVD shaped package. I ripped off the foil and found, wrapped in a grocery store bag... The Incredibles. Michael had gotten me a movie? He'd spent that much on me for a present? Not to mention that he had already provided the cake mixes and everything. (And also, apparently, he'd been fixing our kitchen drawers while I'd been in the shower.) But I did really, really like that movie, and thus expressed my delight.

"Let's watch it tonight," said Michael. I agreed that that was a good idea. And then he said playfully, grinning largely, "Well, we have an activity planned for you!"

"What?"

"Roadtrip! We're going to LA!"

The logical extremist in my head passed out at that point (how could I have been wrong?) and I gasped, "WHAT?"

Then Michael laughed mischievously. "No, we're just going hiking." The logical extremist in my head woke up again, checked out, and checked into a hospital.

"Oh," I said, weakly, and honestly, in relief.

He looked very pleased with himself. "Hehe, did you see that word document that we left you?"

"Yes," I said. "But I thought it was fake."

He looked disappointed. "You did?"

"Yeah... remember, you were using my computer for an hour afterwards. If you really had been absent-minded enough to leave that open, you would have seen it, and deleted it frantically. So I decided it must have been fake."

"Ohhh..." Well, Michael went to get his hiking bag, we all filled up water bottles for ourselves, and we left to go hiking in Rock Canyon. Once we were in Michael's car, he insisted on opening the whole adventure with a prayer so we didn't get killed while driving over. We got up to the trail head and started hiking. He even carried my water bottle for me so I didn't have to do that. Michael was keen to find beautiful spots and insisted that we take pictures every time we found one.

We were having really random conversation. At some point he wanted to know -- "Jenna. If you could have any superpower, what would it be?"

Well, of course I knew exactly which one. "Time manipulation," I said instantly.

"Reeaally?" He looked delighted. "I've thought about that extensively!!!"

Double take. You have? Usually when I answer that I would want time manipulation, of all things, people give me a funny look, consider it for a few seconds, comment that they've never thought of it before, and then move on to a different question.

"In fact," he said, "that's why my Gmail name is timelore." He went on to explain about games he had played when he was little about being a wizard named Timelore. I listened for a while, and then decided that even though he seems to have been thinking about it his whole life about being able to manipulate time, he hadn't thought about it as in depth as I had.

[Side story. As long as I can remember, I've had a little fiction story running in my head. My main character was Amadiora (of course she's a princess -- I made her up as a little girl), and she had a major secret. She could manipulate time. She could freeze it, like Michael fantasized doing, but I thought the far more useful thing she could do was rewind it, and relive it, while no one else realizes that this is the second or the third or the hundredth time they're doing this same thing (except for a minor case of dejavu). Useful? Yes. Of course. You could get an infinite amount of work done in a small amount of time. You'd just have to make sure you did everything that needed material evidence like written homework the last time through the timeline. And just think -- if you do something really stupid on a date? Just rewind time and your date doesn't remember. Just got stabbed and you're about to bleed to death? Erase that, and then dodge as many times as you need to until you get out of that fight unscathed. And I could go on long enough to write several whole books. No, I think I've thought about it more extensively than he has. Sorry, bud.]

We found a river. Michael helped us across after Kristen suggested he put a flat rock she found under the wobbly rock in the river to stabilize it. Then he helped each of us across, and we did a mini-photo shoot. Meditating... on the rocks in the middle of the river... etcetera. It was very adventurous.

We kept going until we found a bridge. We decided that this was the perfect picnic spot. Michael put down his pack and pulled out snacks. He had oranges and bananas, as well as some Goldfish. Kristen had some carrots and potatoes. I ate some fruit and some Goldfish. Then Kristen taught me how to properly use chopsticks, and from what angle to try and grab the food from. Then we had Goldfish races in the river. We got up and continued hiking.

Before long, we got to another bridge. This time, there was a large pipe running alongside it about a meter from the edge of the bridge. About twenty feet below it rushed the river. Long drop. With rocks at the bottom. Ow. Michael hopped up onto it, started to cross... I looked over to watch him, not quite sure it was the best idea in the world. And then he froze in fear, chickened out, and then crossed the bridge with me. I gave him a funny look, without thinking, and then he stopped walking. "Ooh, that was a glare of death. Like you basically just said, 'You pathetic wimp.' I'm sorry, Jenna, I'll cross that pipe for you on the way back."

"Oh no!" That wasn't what I had been thinking at all! "You don't have to --"

"Yes, I do... yes, I do, Jenna," he responded playfully. Dang it. He probably thinks his manhood is in danger or something. He'll lose his pride if he doesn't cross it now. We kept walking until we found a cave. Michael jumped in, declared it wasn't that interesting, and then we turned around to hike back. Michael kept making nervous comments about that pipe. And finally he said, almost michievously, "Oh, I know. You could hold my hand all the way across from the edge of the bridge."

Not quite sure what to say or do, I laughed a little. It was a long drop if he fell. And I wasn't quite sure a handhold would keep him from falling. It was a really stupid idea. Really. I wasn't at all quite sure what to think about this, so I just let myself be overwhelmed by the comicality of the situation. "And then your pride and your life would still be intact?" I laughed again.

"And my humility, since I'd have your help!"

Hm. I'm not exactly sure what's going on... "Okay, okay... whatever..." I said, mid-laugh.

Then he reached over and for a split second he put his arm around my waist. I had barely enough time to screw up my face into my "Holy crud, what are you doing and why?" face before he had already leapt back and was now regarding me with terror.

"What?" I demanded.

"You're... you're not ticklish!" He said it in an awed, horribly hushed, yet definitely playful, voice.

"No. No, I'm not."

"How can you not be ticklish?" he stammered in disbelief.

"I'm just not."

"Are you ticklish anywhere?"

... Hm. I don't think so. I thought. At one point Rachel grabbed my neck and I freaked out, so I had thought I was ticklish there. But no, alas. She tried it again later, and we discovered that I really wasn't. Sad day. "No, nowhere."

Michael looked so disappointed.

But then we got to the pipe. Michael took a deep breath, hopped onto it... and started to cross. Inch by inch. And thankfully, he never reached over for my hand, because it was a little far, and would have compromised his balance if he had. (Phew! Got out of that one!) And for once, he was absolutely silent. Inch. Inch. It seemed he was concentrating very hard. I would be too. That was a loooong drop. Inch. Inch. Finally, after about a minute, he got to the other side. And suddenly he was alive again. "Yeeaaahhhh!!! I got my manhood back! Whooo!!!" And he was giving everyone high-fives like he had just saved the world or something. I laughed a bit more, and I'm not sure why. I was amazed at his stupidness and impressed at his bravery at the same time. And confused too.

"Wow," he said. And then he looked at me. "I don't even know why I just did that."

I laughed a little. Usually when a guy does such tremendously stupid things like that...

"Oh well. I wasn't thinking about it. When you do stupid stuff, you can't think about it. You just have to do it."

And with that we walked some more. And then Michael started picking up these mongo rocks and hurling them into the river. Except he missed with one of them, and it didn't quite make it over the edge of the hill... so Michael, Kristen, Rachelle, and I start throwing rocks at that stubborn mongo rock with the sole goal of getting it over the hill into the river. We probably spent ten minutes throwing rocks... at a rock. I hit that blasted rock several times, but never with enough force to move it. And I was throwing fairly heavy rocks too. Michael finally hurled another mongo rock into it, and both mongo rocks went toppling into the river. We celebrated. Four-way high fives!

And we walked back some more... and every once in a while, I'd realize that Kristen and Rachelle were far behind us, and I was pretty much walking alone with Michael. Hm... I came to later find out that they were doing it on purpose (curses!)... because apparently, they couldn't help it. ("Let's walk slower!" Kristen would whisper to Rachelle. "Okay!" Rachelle would whisper back.) We finally got back to the paved road, and were getting closer to the car.

"All right, someone has to have a piggyback ride!" announced Michael at his most playful after a discussion about what he'd do if he were a scout camp leader. "It's tradition!" What? Piggyback ride? Tradition?

"I'll carry your pack and you can give someone a ride," Kristen told him. Don't encourage him! Ahh!

But Rachelle. Dearest dearest Rachelle. "Michael! I'll give you a piggyback ride!"

This was obviously not what Michael had in mind when he said someone had to have a piggyback ride. At all. But Rachelle insisted. And insisted. And finally...

Michael hopped on, unsure of what he was doing. "Waaah!" chortled Rachelle. Michael's eyes were open kind of wide, and he was laughing his distinctive and outrageous laugh. And Rachelle was trying so hard to carry him. Some of the people behind us started to laugh and take pictures of the two of them, because it WAS a ridiculous sight.

Teeny little Rachelle. Tall Michael. Teeny little Rachelle carrying tall Michael = hilarious. But Rachelle couldn't carry him very far, and Michael got off quickly. Then he dashed in front of me and announced mischievously, "Your turn!"

Oh. Hm. "Come on, get on!" he insisted, in his happiest voice.

Gaah! I thought. I'm terrified of heights. I'm even more terrified of falling. And I'm not sure I trust this Michael not to drop me. Well, I guess if Rachelle gave him a piggyback ride -- whatever. Whatever. I hopped on. And instantly regretted it. You know those moments when you're filled with terror for no good reason? Where you feel your stomach migrating to your toes and your brains falling into where your stomach used to be? Yeah. I like having my two feet on the ground. A lot. And whatever made me think a piggyback ride was going to help me conquer my fear of heights was definitely wrong.

"Ah!" I said. That exclamation was followed by another and another and another, each more terrified than the last, and my eyes were shut tight.

Michael exclaimed happily, "You're lighter than my pack!" And lifted me higher up until I was almost at his shoulders. "Ah!" I responded.

He kept walking. And then... he started singing. "Good morning beautiful..." Tenor. First tenor. "How was your niiiight..." Fine, thank you. ... And, hold the phone, are you honest-to-goodness singing to me? "Mine was wonderful, with you holding me tiiiight..."

And then I realized just how tightly I was holding on. Not just tight. Really tight. Really, really, really tight. Well, I was terrified. I wonder if that was a good enough excuse? Whatever. Whatever. I just need to survive until he puts me down. Which for me meant holding on as tightly as I could. Survive. I will survive.

Well, I wasn't yelping "Ah!" anymore because I was busy listening to him sing. I curiously opened my eyes to look over at Kristen and Rachelle. They were talking to each other, and kept glancing over at Michael and me and then grinning. I shut my eyes again. Nope, not singing to them. And he sings to himself a lot, but I don't think "Good Morning Beautiful" is the sort of song he would sing to himself, especially with a girl on his back. Okay, so perhaps a piggyback serenade is unconventional. And although he wasn't particularly good, and he was a tenor instead of a bass, and was flat the whole time, he was confident enough to keep the tune and still enjoy it. So... I mentally crossed off "Be serenaded" off my list of things to do before I died.

(Booyah, Rachel. Booyah. I win. Except he wasn't a bass. Still have "Be serenaded by a bass or baritone" to cross off... We'll save that one for random pizza delivery guys, or dashing men who are tall, dark, and ominous. Yes. That's right. Who got serenaded first? Me! Okay. I'm done.) I had just kind of been hoping that I would be in a situation where I could concentrate on enjoying the serenade when it happened instead of irrationally fearing for my life.

I was silent until he stopped singing. He then asked if I wanted down. "Yes," I answered weakly. He put me down. I wobbled a little, and then started walking again on my own. Yikes. Glad to be down. And then we walked back to the car, and went back home.

Then it was decided that we needed to frost the two marble cakes. I decided that I wanted chocolate buttercream frosting. Mmm. I started making it, and got to use my happy little alien mixer that my daddy sent me for my birthday. Then my phone rang. But it wasn't the usual ring -- it was the ring that meant I had voicemail. Whhaaaat? That shouldn't happen unless someone called me first!

So I popped out my phone and looked at the missed alerts. Two missed calls! And a voicemail. The voicemail and one of the missed calls was Kathwren. The other was Ryan. The message basically said, "It's your birthday and you're not answering your phone. How rude." So I called her first.

Kathwren and everyone else in the Burchfield's van sang me a ginormous happy birthday. I laughed. It was amazing. Sister Burchfield was probably driving, but I got to talk to her, kind of. I could barely hear her. Don't worry, Sister Burchfield. I'll be home soon. June 20th. It's a Friday. I should be home home by evening time. After I talked to everyone or nearly everyone in the van, the call ended.

Then I returned my other missed call from Ryan. And he got to be the lucky one, because I was still talking to him when Michael, Kristen, and Rachelle were done frosting the cake, so he got live birthday celebration commentary. For lack of candles, Michael had arranged a bunch of matches in a "19" design on the cake. We had to carry the cake outside to light the matches because we weren't allowed to burn anything inside the apartment. And when the first match lit...

Zschoom, zschoom, zschoom! The flames ran across the numbers quickly, and the flame licked up into the air about three inches. My goodness. I'm supposed to blow that out? Yikes! I blew. It took some windpower to get it out, but that's okay. It had been a spectacle. We ate cake, while people socialized in the kitchen.

When I hung up, Kristen wanted to know who I was talking to. "Oh, Ryan. Good friend from my last ward."

Michael heard and blinked. "It wasn't your family? Oh. And you talked to him for that long? Woooow..." Hm. Poor guy seemed a little concerned, like he perceived a threat... haha. Although the thought made me stifle a laugh, I ignored it and enjoyed cake, cake, and more cake.

Then Michael left temporarily to do some economics homework, and Rachelle and I went to the store to buy a bit of food. We came back, tidied up a little, and then Michael came back over to watch the Incredibles.

We watched it, and Michael ate scads of popcorn and Rachelle and I ate scads of the flavored Tootsie Rolls. In the middle of the movie, my phone rang. Someone loves me!

I answered. Patrice! Well, Patrice and Jackie Bodily (not my roommate Jackie) were going to come visit me. Yay! I was really excited. Patrice hugs are the best. You can't have a birthday without a Patrice hug. When she showed up...

Patrice and Jackie sang Happy Birthday, and presented me with another cake. This would be my third cake. But it looked good -- chocolate cake with chocolate frosting with "Happy Birthday" written in caramel glaze. I was delighted. We talked for a bit. After they left, Michael mourned that he made a very bad first impression and that they thought he was a major weirdo. Haha. Probably.

When the movie was over, we were happy people... it really is such a good movie. And then suddenly, Michael went for the tickle again.

And again, not immediately recognizing his advances at tickle-attempts, I just gave him my weirded out "What the heck?" look. "Oh... I forgot you're not ticklish." Yes. Not ticklish. "Nowhere?" I shook my head.

And then he got down... and pulled off my sneakers with another mischievous look. "What... are... you... doing...?" I wanted to say, but it didn't actually come out.

He touched the bottom of my foot. I glared. "You're not even ticklish on your feet!" he said. "And I thought I was being so clever, too..."

Oh, is that what you were doing. He looked very disappointed. And a little lost.

Then we would talk some more, and then randomly he'd jab me in the side, hoping that I was ticklish there. All right, I had enough of just sitting here being jabbed. My hand shot out at his core for a vicious tickle. Let's teach him a lesson...

Except that wasn't the best place to try and jab. It was like jabbing rock... I remembered him commenting about his eight pack earlier during the hike... I had assumed he had been joking. Apparently I was wrong. So I jabbed his sides, tickling with mother-like efficiency (no one tickles quite like your mother, it's true).

He squealed. I wondered if this hadn't been his goal the whole time... to get me to tickle him back, but I jabbed in the sides until he finally pulled his arms tight to his sides so I couldn't tickle him anymore. So I stopped. No use in trying to tickle a rock. And instead we tickled Rachelle. But when we did that, it seemed like she was dying. So we air tickled her, and she still almost died. So we stopped that.

But then Michael had an idea. He grabbed my orange fleece blanket that I had made at girls' camp a few years ago... and bolted. I gasped and my eyes widened. Oh, no you don't. My blanket! It is in peril!

Michael had run out the door. Rachelle and I bolted after him into the grass volleyball court, and gave chase. No! My blanket, my blanket! And then little Miss Logic (nearly recovered from her stay at the hospital earlier that day) who lives in the back of my head, said, "You know, this is only a ploy, perhaps a subconscious one, to get a couple of girls to chase after him." I thought back, "Yeah. Yeah. Probably..." and then I thought. "Crud. I can't believe I gave into that."

But then I heard the blood-curdling scream of my poor blanket, "Jenna! Save me! A strange man has me! Save meeeeee!!!" And after a plea like that, you kind of have to go save your damsel, I mean blanket, in distress. At one point I nearly body-slammed him... but then he saw my proximity and threw the blanket over the net... dashing underneath to catch it...

And he missed. The blanket hit the ground. He yelled in horror and frustration as angel Rachelle immediately grabbed it and dashed for home. She ran as fast as she could with her injured knee... but Michael gave pursuit and was gaining on her. "Rachelle! Get the blanket in one of our bedrooms! If goes in there, he'll spontaneously combust!" (It's true. The BYU Honor Code forbids him to enter our bedrooms.)

But Michael was so close! I rammed him.

He was thrown off track for a few seconds, but it would have to be enough. Rachelle dashed into our apartment, Michael on her tail, and I on his. She ran up the stairs, but only one at a time... Michael ran up the stairs after her. Three at a time. And Rachelle was nearly up top, when he tackled her. She screamed shrilly enough to stop anyone's heart as she fell, tossing my blanket into her room in one last desperate attempt to save it.

"Noooo!!!" yelled Michael.

Blanket was safe. Past the doorway at least. I leapt over the tangled mess that was Michael and Rachelle trying to stand up without hurting themselves and pushed the blanket deeper into the room so that he couldn't reach it from the doorway. And then it was victory for the girls. Success. (Although I'm sure it was the chase Michael wanted more than the blanket itself, so I guess, in a way, he also won...) Michael, Rachelle, blanket, and I all panted for our breath. Blanket wheezed a few thank you's and we went back downstairs.

We sat back down on the couch to regain our breath, I with a cup of water in hand. Then Michael asked, "You know how I crack eggs?"

No. "On the knee. Like this." He took his hand, hovering it over my knee. "And then you crack it!" He hit my knee. "And then you just let it ooze..." And he let his fingers spread out from the center of my knee like they were oozing.

Confused, I just furrowed my eyebrows, gave him a weird look, and said, "You crack eggs on your knee?"

He blinked at me, again looking disappointed. "You're not even ticklish on your knee!"

I shook my head. I can't even tell when he's trying to tickle me, dang it.

He paused. "Are you sure that when they put titanium rods in your back they didn't damage your tickle nerve?"

I shook my head, but didn't say anything. I remember being ticklish when I was little. But after not, not so much.

I then decided to check my email for any birthday wishes. But no one had sent me anything. In fact, the last email I got was Ryan's little commentary that the pizza delivery expert, Nathan, was spineless. Michael noticed this.

"Ryan again? Gee, he's popular or something..." said Michael playfully.

"Hm, yes. He's pretty much my favorite person ever," I answered. And with that, Michael's face fell, and for a split instant, he appeared to be heartbroken. But then a split second later, he had hidden that and his face was a calm blank. (Rachelle can testify this is true. His visible pain was, sadly, very entertaining, though.) Perceiving a threat, he had to know more. "Is he from Arizona?" "No... California." "How old is he?" I laughed and explained he was only my age and thus was going on his mission to Australia soon. And suddenly Michael was happy again. I stifled another laugh. Haha. Michael had seriously thought I'd been taken or something. I decided not to clarify any further. Let Michael fear.

We watched a few videos on YouTube for the rest of the night, and then he left.

Rachelle had gone to bed a little earlier before Michael left, and I really didn't feel like climbing up into a bunk, so I turned off the light and curled up on the couch. Then Rachelle came down again.

She sat on the smaller couch, and said, "Jenna. I want thoughts on Michael."

"You mean my thoughts?"

"Yes."

Hm. In other words, she wanted to know if I liked him, but wasn't actually going to ask. "Michael is interesting," I replied. "And kind of scary. And really weird..." And really playful. And really surprising.

We sat in the dark, talking to each other. It wasn't like most girl talks I'd ever had. We'd spend a minute talking. Then it would drop off into confused, thoughtful silence the next. Both of us agreed that it was probably the most exciting day of either of our lives. It also worried me. I was confused about a lot of things, as was Rachelle.

Rachelle lamented, "I'm jealous. I want a boy..."

I laughed quietly. "You can have Michael!"

She laughed too, also quietly. "No, but he's taken now." (... No, he's not.) She shook her head a little. "Jenna, you're gong to have to give me lessons on picking up guys!"

"I'm not doing it on purpose!" I countered. Which would make lessons hard, would it not? I'm not at all trying to get guys. In fact, I'm nearly, but not quite, on the verge of avoiding such attention. But alas, I've been noticed and there's nothing I can do about it.

For the past week I've been trying to convince myself Michael doesn't like me, but now I don't think I honestly can pull such a major self-convincing denial job off. It is probably (most probably) true. Which means I will probably worry about it for ages. I honestly don't like being liked that much. It scares me and I don't like the unnatural level of attention. Whatever. Whatever! I shan't think about it.

We sat in silence for a while, and then Rachelle went upstairs to bed. I laid on the couch in darkness. And I stared at the ceiling for a few hours until I finally fell asleep.

The End. (How was that, Rachelle? Satisfactory?)