VANTÉ. (D. SWING)

CuteVanté

"That boy haircut ridiculous!"

"Goooood damn!"

"Who cut this mans shit, Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles?"

Crossing my legs beneath the table, I scoff at the way the same boys always feel like they're the kingpins of our school. Yeah, DeGrate's haircut was a little too thin on the sides, but at least he could afford one! He doesn't bother anybody! He comes in, laughs with his friends, sleeps in class, and carries his flute everywhere he goes. Does that sound like somebody who deserves to he picked at? If you think so, you're a fucked up and corrupted individual. They sit here and say something whenever they can. Guys can't play the flute? He could be the next Prince, that man plays everything! Hell, who knows, DeGrate can be a sex symbol in four years tops! 1991 is not that far of a wait.

DeGrate's head lays low as he huffs and puff. He sits at a table where his friends just stare at him. It looks like they don't know what to say. That's when he looks up at them, "What?" He says, they keep staring. "What?!"

All I can do is shake my head.

Abruptly, he gets up from the table. His eyes scan the cafeteria for a short moment until they land on my own table. One single tick of the long hand on the clock and he's coming right my way. My table is empty, I guess that's why he's coming this way. None of my friends have my lunch period. He stops right at the edge of my table. "Excuse me," he says softly. My eyebrows raise with interest. "May I please sit here?"

"Sure, knock yourself out."

He takes a seat, setting his backpack on the table in front of him. I hear his flute case make a thud sound from hitting the table. "Thank you. I really appreciate it," he nods.

"Your friends giving you a hard time about it too?"

He asks, "About what?"

"Y'know..." I signal to his upper-body. An uncomfortable feeling settles between the two of us. "The haircut." I watch as his face falls flat and I instantly wish I could take my words back.

DeGrate's head begins to shake once more. "I needed to get it cut for family photos but my barber caught the flu. I was in such a rush that I just took whatever chair was left open. It's not that bad, is it?"

I take a second to look at him. I mean, to really get a good look at him.

The natural shaping of his eyebrows are pretty nice and they sit perfectly above his honey colored orbs. His subtle slope down his nose takes you on a journey to a pair of full lips. These same full lips gain my attention, I could stare all day if I wanted, honestly. Honey, with a face like that, a bad haircut should be the least of your worries.

"No," I tell him. "Truthfully, it is not bad at all. You're pretty cute and everybody gets a bad haircut. I mean, really, it's no big deal." His lips tuck themselves inward as they hide a coyish grin of flattery.

I stare, not too hard, back at him as his smooth, almond complexion slowly, but surely, gains a deep rose tint. "T–Thank you... that's really nice." The stutter, it was cute.

Taking note of him not having a lunch, I begin to feel bad and push forth my second half of my sandwich. "You like peanut-butter and jelly? You can have it."

"No, thank you." I nod as I pull it back before myself. As I bite into the half in my hand, I feel a small sense of comfort emerge from our silence. A moment passes before I hear him say anything else. "But may I please have a grape?" I giggle and his eyebrows furrow. "What?"

He is so cute.

Pushing my bag of grapes toward him, I laugh, "They're all yours."

DeGrate slips a grape between his lips. "Thank you." I feel my heart flutter as he sits before me chewing. I begin to search my brain for something to say. Maybe I should apologize for bringing up his bad haircut. That's when he asks me a question. "Do you– Uhm, remember two years ago when we did the Valentine's grams?"

We do those every year but that one was special. He remembers that? "Wow, that was like forever ago," I laugh. Nostalgic conservation is my favorite. I love to reminisce with people around me. "How do you remember that?" We were freshmen in high school at the time. DeGrate has always been at least two lockers away from mine, three at the most. We see each other a lot but rarely do we speak. It's always a head nod before the other is almost late for class. "I remember this one boy— "

"Sent you on a scavenger hunt," he finishes.

My head nods at the thought as I lean back. "Yeah, and he had you deliver me one of the cards..." I told you that me and DeGrate don't talk. I guess maybe we should do so more often. He doesn't seem all that bad.

"Yeah, uhm... that was me."

I take a deep, deep inhale.

Two years ago, in our sophomore year, I received a Valentine's gram. The gram told me to check my locker. A little creepy, right? Yeah, I thought so too. At the same time, it was all so cute. I followed the entire scavenger hunt through the entire school and all around our neighborhood. In the end, it led to a date with my mystery guy. I was excited, I can't lie, I really was excited. Then, that same exact day, I was put on punishment for keeping the car out too long while trying to complete the scavenger hunt. I had to call the diner that he'd told me to meet him at and had them deliver the message. I felt horrible about it for weeks.

"What?"

He stares back, silent and red.

"That was you? What?!"

DeGrate begins to explain. "Well, I..." He breathes. "Okay." I watch him start all over. "I kinda' just sat around for weeks trying to figure out how to get you to play along without looking like a creep, you know? An–and then the grams came around and I figured it was the easiest way. There were no hard feelings when you got grounded, I figured it was just a message from God... but I gotta' admit, it was cool watching you wear the bracelet I bought you for the rest of the school year."

"I—"

"Would you like to go out with me sometime? I– you know, nothing too major. Maybe we can go back to the diner, Willy's? I'm free whenever you are."

I was sure hoping he wouldn't ask that.

Clearing my throat, I prepare my words of rejection. "I'm so sorry..." I can see his heart fall to his knees. I dive into my explanation immediately. "I'm moving to Raleigh. This is my last day here." An understand nod is all I get from him. Damn, the good ones always come at the end of the journey! I'm not letting a boy like DeGrate slip away. "But, uh, we can still try to make something work. Wanna' exchange numbers or something?"

He begins to grin as his perked cheeks return to a pink shade indicating his blushing. "Yes, please."

Did I mention that he is so damn cute?