12:17 P.M., Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Honolulu, HI

Paul Macon could feel himself blushing, and it was as much from anger as from embarrassment. Travis Covens could be such a dick. Here on the playground, where a teacher might hear, neither boy dared say something like “dick,” but something had to be said, and Paul said something.

“She’s NOT my girlfriend!”

Except that she was, of course. The other boy smirked at Paul as he taunted him further.

“You probably tell her she’s beautiful all the time. ‘Oo, baby, you’re so cute!’ Lover Boy!”

“I never said she was beautiful!”

Well, never said it to anybody but her. But then Travis used a technique which is often effective on playgrounds and national politics: just say something over and over, and it won’t matter if you have proof.

“Lover Boy! Lover Boy! Lover Boy!”

“Shut up!”

“Lover Boy! Lover Boy! Lover Boy!”

Travis said it nearly a dozen times more until Paul, in utter frustration, told the biggest lie yet:

“I don’t even like her!!”

A teacher happened to notice the noise and the tension and, as per her job, broke things up before the two boys could come to blows. A physical altercation was averted, but the anger and embarrassment were still there on the part of Paul, and the sense of satisfaction that he could get such a reaction was still there on the part of Travis. A fight had been avoided, but nothing was resolved.

There was also guilt. Paul knew that the things that he was saying were not true, and he didn’t like to lie. When he said “she’s not my girlfriend” that was a lie, but then it was supposed to be a secret. He also felt that he wasn’t being fair to Paula, that when he said “I never said she was beautiful” what that really meant was “she’s not beautiful” and that was a lie and not being a good friend and ... and well it just wasn’t right. But when he said he didn’t like her, that made the little boy feel ashamed.

And Paula? When somebody would suggest that Paul was her boyfriend she would say, “not really,” which was ‘not really’ true but also wasn’t a strong denial. Did that mean that Paul was ‘kind of’ her boyfriend? When you’re eight years old, being kind of a boyfriend is as bad as just being a boyfriend. So the little girl wasn’t helping, or at least not helping much, which annoyed Paul. It bothered Paula to be as dishonest as she was with her “not really.” And, she thought, it isn’t like being her boyfriend was a bad thing. Was it?

Of course the real tell was the way the two acted around each other. They were obviously the best of friends, which would have made the other third graders suspicious had there been nothing else. But there was something else, of course. The way they would smile at each other, unlike the way they smiled at their other friends; the way they had been spotted holding hands; Bryson swore he saw them kissing. Bryson was lying, but that was only a matter of luck; Paul and Paula kissed often enough that they were going to be seen eventually.

5:08 P.M., Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Honolulu, HI

Paul couldn’t understand why his girlfriend was being so dense. “Let’s climb the tree?” So dense.

“If somebody sees us in a tree,” he explained, though it hardly seemed necessary, “they’ll start singing that ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G’ song again. But this time it’ll be true. Well, maybe we won’t be kissing, but ... Oh come on Paula, don’t be dumb!”

That stung. Paula Akron knew she wasn’t dumb, and she didn’t like anybody suggesting that she was. As it turned out, she liked it least of all coming from her boyfriend.

“You’re kind of dumb yourself if you think I’m dumb.”

“Oh, well, no not, um, not actually dumb just, urm...” Paul stammered. Suddenly caught between the feeling that he should apologize and the fear that you can’t win an argument if you’re always saying you were wrong, the little boy felt frustrated all over again, and that made him mad.

“It’s supposed to be a secret! And since you’re NOT dumb, well it ain’t a secret if I’m saying, ‘yeah I do like her; oh yeah I tell her she’s beautiful all the time; actually she is my girlfriend, but just forget that because it’s a secret.’ It doesn’t work like that, Paula.”

“I know how secrets work, dillweed!”

Paula wondered if maybe she didn’t, really. Part of her wanted to tell the world about the romance she shared with Paul, because it was sweet and beautiful and, well, romantic. But at the same time she wanted to keep it secret because it’s no fun being made fun of.

Paula had confessed to Jenny that Paul really was her boyfriend, and Jenny thought that was great. She was about to tell Sally when the thing with Travis had happened. Paula knew that neither of these girls would spill the beans, but she also knew why Travis was so sure. The two of them, well, they just ACTED like a couple. What were they supposed to do: pretend to hate each other?

“What are we supposed to do,” she asked, “pretend we hate each other?”

“Well not hate each other,” Paul answered, “just don’t talk to each other around other kids and if somebody asks you if I’m your boyfriend you don’t say ‘not really’ you say ‘no’ like you mean it.”

That sounded so reasonable; a secret is a secret. But saying that Paul wasn’t her boyfriend, well it was like saying he wasn’t good enough to be her boyfriend, and that wasn’t true. But, well, but shouldn’t... ?

Paula didn’t know what to do, and didn’t want to admit it. Paul didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t want to admit it. Each knew that life would be easier without a sweetheart.

12:19 P.M., Friday, May 1, 2015

Honolulu, HI

Eight year old Paula Akron put her little fists on her little hips and glared at Rita.

“I don’t HAVE a boyfriend, dummy-face! And if I ever did it wouldn’t be Paul Macon. You’d have to be a CRAZY girl to be HIS girlfriend!”

Paul snorted. “You ARE a crazy girl, Paula!”

“Not crazy enough to be YOUR girlfriend!”

“Good! because I’m not crazy enough to be YOUR boyfriend!”

“Yeah!? Well GOOD!!”

“Yeah!? Well GOOD!!”