The Boys Who Danced With the Moon

by Mark Paul Oleksiw

  “Talking to girls who keep scrapbooks. Nice. Very nice. Tea and crumpets at four? What is going on with that?”

  “She just wanted my poem for her scrapbook. Besides, she reads . . . I am . . . never mind . . . just because she wants my poem.”

  “Whatever,” Marius said, shaking his head.

  Moony seemed totally confused as usual and whispered to me. “Why does he think what you did was wrong?”

  “Typical Marius. He has something against us book nerds!” I knew this would stir the pot and create a needed diversion of attention.

  Moony fixed a glare on Marius, who watched him in utter amusement. Moony shook his head and waved a finger at him.

  “Don’t put down kids who read. I read, and I mean a lot!”

  “Good lord. Let us not get carried away. Reading. Yeah, okay. As for you, Moony, we all know you are a great shaman, so I love the fact you read.” He smiled from ear to ear, clearly bemused by Moony’s interjection.

  Moony, now satisfied, moved along and left the school with us as we headed home for the holidays.

  When I finally got to my room that night. The events of the day played on like an endless tape loop. I mused on how to encapsulate the events of the day. There were no more suitable verses ever expressed.

  We were together;

  I forget the rest.

  CHAPTER 21

  During the holiday break, I had written furiously and feverishly, going to the cabin in the woods early before meeting Marius and Moony at the rink. In the winter, nobody went there. It was the perfect solitude for a young heart. I would arrive and pry the door open and sit on the bench alone and write. I knew no one would bother me. By the time classes started again, I felt alive and no longer alone.

  The school looked decidedly different after Christmas. It had become less of my school and more of my home. I longed to spend every second, minute, and hour in it. I immersed myself fully in each and every subject, whether Laura was in those classes or not. The fact was, I thought of her as always with me and therefore never wanted to let her down. Whatever connection I made with Laura before the holidays kept me warm as the temperature plummeted.

  I sat in English class and daydreamed about the two of us. Many times as my name would be called, Mrs. Woodsmith would have to repeat it louder to snap me out of it. Marius took great delight in slapping me with pen, pencil, or ruler to get my attention. No one seemed to care about my flights outside of their world, which I regularly took. I was beaming, and no one could take issue with that.

  Time is a merciless foe in our youth. When one is too complacent, it quickens the pace, and before I realized, the calendar had turned to February. January being a mere icy speed bump. I grasped that merely orbiting my love and being comfortable in stable orbit could not sustain me forever. One day I looked across the room, my eyes gazing upon Laura as she read aloud in class. My heart cried out from a cavern within me and frightened me. It was not a cry which anyone in class could hear. My secret was surely safe. It was a plea from my heart to awaken my brain and spur me into action. My heart continued to sing to an empty concert hall, and now, it demanded more.

  The classroom calendar had but one date on it that mattered most in the month of February: Valentine’s Day. We spent many classes leading up to the fourteenth reading poems and particularly poems of loves won, loves lost, and loves unrequited. It was a tradition within our school to sell Valentine cards. For two dollars, you could buy a card and send a message, which would be hand-delivered to a classmate’s locker. The proceeds went to charity. My opportunity was waiting for me. To ensure the anonymity of the sender, you would be able to buy the cards at the administration office at school, and drop them off in the red “mailbox” near it.

  During one lunch hour, Marius pulled me aside in the locker bay. I could see him reach into his jeans and feel his way around. He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and waved it in front of me. “Kiran, Valentine’s Day is coming, as you are aware.” The brilliance of Marius was that he would make the obvious ridiculous observation seem as significant as being Newton beaned by an apple.

  “Yes. I figured that out. Happens every year around this time by coincidence.” I couldn’t help but take a shot at him. The opportunities presented themselves so rarely. “Sorry, Marius. I couldn’t resist. Yes, of course, Valentine’s Day. I take it you’re planning to send a card to someone.” I motioned with my left hand at the cash in his hand.

  “Yes, you catch on pretty quick.”

  I stood and watched his eyes carefully. My math calculated eighteen dollars in change for a card. However, Marius’s eyes were winking at me. He had some master plan up his sleeve and needed my indulgence. “So, what’s the catch?”

  He reached deeper into his pocket and pulled out another twenty-dollar bill and waved it in front to me. “Get the picture now? I mean, you must have caught on now.”

  “Oh, brother, Marius. This scheme seems like a doozy. I’m guessing that with forty bucks you’re planning to buy a card, flowers, and some chocolates for some girl. It doesn’t seem like you to go all out like that.”

  “Wrong. Wrong and completely wrong.”

  “Okay, what’s going on? If you weren’t waving money around, I would’ve thought I was talking to Moony.”

  He laughed, enjoying the drama he created. “I thought it would be fun for a few girls to get cards . . . and . . .” He paused, and I now felt my throat constricting, almost knowing what was coming next. I tried to corral quickly this bull that was getting out of control.

  “You want to send twenty cards to twenty different girls?! Geez. You’re going to actually write twenty cards?” He stared back at me and smiled. My stomach dropped. “Why am I thinking I’m expected to write the cards for you?”

  “I’ll do the hard part by choosing the girls and addressing them. You have the easy part.”

  “What easy part?

  “What could be more romantic than a poem?”

  “Are you serious? I have to write a poem for you.”

  “Yes. You’re good at it. It won’t take you very long.”

  “Girls talk, so it’ll look pretty stupid when they all got the same poem from you.” I realized how bottomless the hole I dug was the instant the words came out. “You want me to write twenty different poems for you?”

  “Yes. Four lines each, not more, not less.” He put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a big squeeze. “Just write the poems and I’ll decide who gets which.”

  I thought about it for a second, and the sheer madness of it made me smirk. Each of these girls was going to get a Valentine card from Marius with a different poem. I couldn’t wait to see the fan when the shit hit it.

  I went home that night and composed twenty of the most innocuous four-line poems of all time. The first two lines were all Roses are red. Violets are blue. It never occurred to me how many words rhyme with red and blue.

  Marius’s project kept me busy. I had forgotten there was the deadline for the Valentine’s Day cards. I arrived two days before Valentine’s Day to learn there were no more cards available. I missed the deadline for submitting by a day! I stood in front of the administrative counter speechless. I had spent two nights writing out Marius’s stupid cards and giving them to him to send as a joke. Here I was with nothing to show for it. My true love would not be getting a card from me.

  I strolled to my locker during lunch hour, opened the door, and pulled out my notebook. I read the poem I planned to give to Laura.

  When I started to crawl,

  my body rebelled and tumbled forward.

  This love slipped from my lips.

  Across my path, it settled.

  My heart blew it away

  like, fine dust.

  Inhaling with a lonesome breath,

  to hold until the moment,

  when I learn to wal
k.

  Savor, forever the day,

  this love to your lips delivered,

  sealed with a gentle kiss.

  I closed my locker and in front of me stood Moony. I had no idea how long he was there or if he noticed anything. Moony was not the type to filter his words, so I could tell by his blank stare he was oblivious to my plight.

  “Kiran, I just came to see where you were. I didn’t see you in the cafeteria. Are you coming for lunch?”

  “Yes. I just forgot something in my locker.”

  “There has been quite a buzz in the school with all this Valentine’s Day stuff. Did you send anyone a card, Kiran?” Moony’s eyes widened and a smile permeated across his mouth. Normally, such a question would have been an accusation of sorts. Not with Moony. He was genuinely curious and entirely innocent.

  “Well. I did help out someone writing cards and got tired out.”

  “Ah, yes. Marius told me about his big project. Quite a secret-agent task he gave you.”

  “What did he tell you about his project?”

  “He had you write cards with poems for twenty girls.”

  “They were from him. He was supposed to sign them.”

  “He did sign them. But not his name.”

  My heart dropped, and the air around me seemed to all evaporate at once. “Whose name did he sign?”

  “He just signed it from a secret admirer. He thought it would just be more fun for the girls to wonder about who it was and they could imagine it was from someone they genuinely liked. Why? What did you think?”

  “Never mind. Marius never ceases to amaze me.” I put the poem I created inside a textbook I had in my hands as Moony was speaking.

  “You know what would be nice to do instead of just a regular card?”

  “What, Moony?” I was more than curious.

  “To give someone something personalized.” Moony’s eyes darted about as though the idea came to him as fortuitously as flies gravitating to a hungry frog.

  “You’re a wise man, Moony. A true shaman and soothsayer.”

  “I don’t think I can be both. Nevertheless, I appreciate the compliment.”

  “Now let’s grab some lunch.”

  We walked to the cafeteria. While my heart embraced in full euphoria the notion of handing Laura the poem on Valentine’s Day, my brain sent a gentle reminder notice to my heart.

  While my heart was all in, the rest of me was paralyzed in teenage fear.

  CHAPTER 22

  I paced around my room during the nights preceding Valentine’s Day. There was only one way Laura would get a card from me: I would have to deliver it personally and watch her read it in front of me—and pass judgment on my feelings. Her facial expressions would either embrace my heart or cut it into pieces with razor wire.

  I sat in the chair in my room, and studied my surroundings. I supposed I could do nothing and let the day pass like any other day, a truly safe option. The feelings inside me would be insulated from ridicule. I could enjoy the day and laugh at the collateral shock from Marius’s prank.

  I arrived at school the morning of Valentine’s Day content, having convinced myself that the safe path was the correct way. I was too scared of the potential response and decided there was plenty of time in the future. Christmas had proved one thing: some moments could come so unexpectedly. Why risk a disaster now?

  When the five-minute warning bell rang, instead of rushing to class, I lingered at my locker. I leaned my back against it and slithered down until I was sitting on the floor. I pulled the paper out of my textbook and re-read the poem I had authored. I slid my finger along the words and closed my eyes. I entered an ominous cavern in my mind and could feel my heart’s agony. My eyes opened and I got up and walked to my first class. English class would be after lunch and any cards addressed to us would be delivered to our lockers during our final period. I had convinced myself that inserting the poem in the locker with others seemed so impersonal. Besides, I wanted to see her face as I handed it to her.

  I ambled into English class and took my regular spot. Marius was in an even more jovial mood than usual. It was Valentine’s Day and his grand prank would be unfolding over the course of the final period. Twenty terribly written poems would have girls guessing all weekend as to the identity of their secret admirer. My prank on Marius was to write the worst possible poems and have his name associated with them. This poor secret admirer would go down as the worst poet in the history of humanity.

  Mrs. Woodsmith was in a playful mood. In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, she asked the class to ponder what love means to them. In her usual fashion, she looked around the classroom, hoping to provoke a discussion. She went around the room, throwing grenades at various unarmed students. One by one, my colleagues combusted into flames. Moony sat with hands raised the entire time, in eager anticipation of giving a well-considered response. I could hear Marius fidgeting behind me, waiting to set a match to this tinderbox of a discussion. Words bounced all around me, independent and meaningless until Mrs. Woodsmith said, “Laura, what is your definition of love?”

  My soul sailed immediately across the classroom and pressed itself against her lips to hear the words as soon as they came out. There was a brief silence as she closed her eyes summoning the words from a place within her. “Love elevates one to a higher level of being.” The last words fluttered out and danced across the room into my ears. Her eyes opened as the last syllable came out. My heart was paddling in the boundless depths of her eyes.

  “Very insightful and words with very deep meaning.”

  Suddenly Marius erupted in his usual fashion. He poked me from behind and leaned over to whisper to me. “What the fuck is she talking about? Has everyone got the Moony bug?”

  I was stunned by Marius’s words. Mrs. Woodsmith jumped on Marius’s facial expression sensing his disregard for a fellow student. “Marius, you seem confused.” She gave Marius a menacing glare and Marius fell back into his seat.

  “I just couldn’t hear and was asking Mr. Wells.”

  “Could not hear or not understand?”

  “A little of both. I suppose.”

  She turned back to Laura and smiled at her and in a soft voice said, “Laura, would you kindly elaborate for the other side of the room?”

  Laura looked at Mrs. Woodsmith. I could see Laura’s lips tremble slightly with a trace of nerves. “Mrs. Woodsmith, I suppose what I mean is that real love elevates you as a person. I’m not sure how to explain it further.” Her fingers shook—she seemed to be frustrated by her inability to articulate her thoughts. A brave wind raced through me and swept my heart through the gates of my brain in full rebellion. My hand rose bravely, the only one at this point, as even poor Moony had given up by now.

  “Kiran. Do you have something to add?”

  “I believe what Laura means is that when you are really in love, you are consumed with the well-being of the one you love. You would sacrifice yourself and your happiness for theirs without expecting anything in return.” I stopped as my heart was palpitating, and I needed air.

  “Mr. Wells, you seem to be onto something.”

  “In doing so, you become a better person because you’re giving your soul to someone else. I guess you evolve to another level because of it.” The last words came out while my brain was trying to understand what I had just said.

  “Ms. Winters, does that make sense to you?”

  “Yes. Perfect sense.” Laura smiled at Mrs. Woodsmith. I could see her hands no longer trembling. Now, at rest, she looked comfortable on her desk. I was almost waiting for the slap on the shoulder from Marius or his massive shoe against my chair. I wouldn’t have felt it.

  Mrs. Woodsmith moved on and finally allowed Moony his time (she strategically waited for five minutes to be left).

  My eyes diverted to Laura. She glanced over at me as
her lips mouthed a “thank you” in my direction. I smiled back and nodded my head, quickly turning to the front. The beast would soon stir behind me. When the bell rang, I reached into my pocket and summoned every ounce of bravery toward my next mission. I would go to Laura’s locker and give her the poem after school.

  When the last bell rang, the image of Laura trapped my courage from escaping. I went to the locker area, poem in hand. Laura’s locker was a few rows over from mine. I waited patiently for the students to dissipate so there would be some semblance of privacy. I had a clear line of sight to her locker when I noticed a card sticking out of it. She pulled the card out and examined it. My eyes looked at the floor as I turned and retreated. She had received a card from someone other than me.

  ***

  For the remainder of February and for much of March, the defeat at the locker bay hounded me. The most romantic day of the year had passed. I had blown it completely. I totally forgot about what happened in English class and the special moment it truly was and became transfixed by her receiving a card from someone else. I grasped in due time that I had let fear claim a clumsy victory.

  It was near the end of March when the real comedy of my failure took shape.

  One day after class, I took a record to Janie’s locker that she had been asking to borrow for weeks. Janie’s locker was on the same row as Laura’s and well within earshot. I was waiting for Janie to show at her locker when I overheard one of Laura’s friends speaking to her. “Did you ever find out who sent you that stupid Valentine’s card?”

  “Oh, the ‘roses are red’ one? Yes. I know who sent it. All the girls in English class got one.”

  “So, who was it?”

  “That Marius character.”

  “Figures. Some people need to get a life.”

  I laughed inside and slowly hid behind an open locker so they wouldn’t see me. My back was turned to them anyhow.

  “The worst part was, I was kind of hoping to get one from someone else.”

  Just as the words came out, Janie appeared. “You brought the record, I see. Great. Thanks! I promise to give it back to you soon. Don’t worry.”