48 First Dates (Seeking Romance #1)

The Prince of Birds

2

Middle school bird watch,

almost found fairy tale, but

Princess Snot-Rocket

B y sixth grade, I no longer cared that I hadn’t found a magical way to stop Ben from leaving. We still homeschooled. But the Wednesday playdates had turned into a Wednesday co-op. Charlotte was in her junior year of college, and my brother was in the high school class. My mom helped teach science during the afternoon.

I stayed with a gaggle of middle schoolers during the free time. The leaders called us the “after-co-op middles.” We were supposed to work on our projects as the high school kids finished their classes. Let’s be honest: a group of five middle schoolers don’t want to do schoolwork for long. We rushed through our work and spent most of the time talking and goofing off.

Libby Jane, the boy-obsessed thirteen-year-old, zeroed in on me as the target of her jokes and dares. The worst of it started a few weeks before my twelfth birthday with the arrival of someone new.

I was minding my own business, waiting for class to begin. I was reviewing my notes for my weekly presentation when the door opened. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen walked in. She looked like a Brazilian supermodel. Right behind her was a boy with bronzed skin and wavy black hair. Hair that resembled the prince from my favorite fairy tale, except his eyes were brown.

The woman whispered to our teacher. Mrs. Bates then turned to address the group. “Children, before we begin with our memory work, I’d like to introduce to you all our new friend: David Ribeiro.” Only the teacher didn’t pronounce his name DA-vid like I expected from his name tag. She pronounced it DAH-veed.

Oh. My. Fairies.

“I want you all to help him feel welcome.” The teacher glared until we all nodded. The two newbies took their seats. Him in the front row with the students. Her behind him in the line of moms who hung out in the class to help if needed.

The rest of the class blurred by. Memory work recited. Sentences diagrammed. Presentations given.

Suddenly, it was time to go outside and observe nature. The teacher told us to observe as many birds as possible, writing down the ones we recognized.

In moments, I was Aurora. I needed to find the right birds to help dress me for the ball. A black-capped chickadee and several cardinals later, I snuck a glimpse of David. Like me, he was lying on the grass and looking up at a nearby tree.

I doubt he was pretending to be a princess. But as I stared at him, my mind wandered.

Did he check his spot for fire ants first? I hope so.

He wasn’t screaming yet, so he probably did. But even so, I should go tell him about fire ants.

By the time I plucked up the courage to go over there, Mrs. Bates called us in. We filed back to the classroom and filled out our nature journal pages. This week, we had to record the birds we saw and write a short haiku about the experience.

I loved haiku, so this wasn’t a hard assignment.

Cardinals are red

bluebirds are blue, chickadees

black, white, and gray, Ted!

Ted was the boy in the class who had annoyed me for over two years. He also knew nothing about nature, so I figured his name was a perfect way to end my haiku. That and his name rhymed with red. I snickered to myself, knowing no one would ever see my little joke. Mrs. Bates didn’t make us read or show our nature journals unless we volunteered.

At least, that’s what she usually did. That day, she was in a mood. There were circles under her eyes, and a menthol perfume followed her as she checked our work.

So, when she heard my snicker, she voluntold me to share my haiku with the class.

I shook my head. Please, please don’t make me do this!

But Mrs. Bates insisted. “Stand up and read your poem, Adelaide.”

Everyone stared at me. No one said a word. I sighed and stood. “Cardinals are red—”

I kept my head down the whole time I read. When I finished, everyone laughed, but not the good kind. Their laughter was the nervous, uncomfortable, did-she-just-say-that kind. Mrs. Bates gave me her best disapproving look.

I mean, it wasn’t that bad, was it?

I turned bright red and plunked into my chair like a spooked cardinal. I stared at the floor, refusing to make eye contact and focusing on breathing in and out. I commanded the tears burning at my eyelids not to fall. I would not let them see my cry.

When Mrs. Bates dismissed us, I sprinted for the door. As I reached the opening, I heard a voice with an unfamiliar accent say, “Wait!”

But I ignored it and ran to the bathroom. I locked the door and pretended not to hear the gentle knock that came a few moments later. The air freshener released a puff of sterilized floral spice as I repeated over and over— it’s not that bad .

After the fiftieth time, I believed it. I unlocked the door and left to go to the lunchroom. To my surprise, David waited there for me. I turned to walk away, but as I did, I heard him say, “Wait! I loved your haiku!”

Well, that stopped me in my tracks. With sloth-like speed, I turned around and said, “Fire ants.” Embarrassment bloomed across my cheeks for the second time in less than an hour.

“What?” David asked.

“Fire ants. You were lying on the ground. I didn’t know if you checked for fire ants.”

“Oh.” David nodded with gentleness in his eyes. “Yes, we always check the ground for ants and other creepy crawlies in Brazil. You never know what will bite you!” He smiled as he stepped forward. The smell of plantain chips surrounded me. “ De verdade , I liked your haiku.”

More beets on my cheeks. David was going to think I had a fever.

When I didn’t respond out loud, he nodded. “Okay, nice to talk to you.” David turned to walk away.

“Lunch,” I blurted. With gazelle-like speed, he turned around.

I took a deep breath. “Do you want to eat lunch with me?”

“ Eu gostaria muito disso .” He paused and then repeated his answer in English, “I would like that a lot.”

And that began what I like to call our first date.

I know, I know. We didn’t go anywhere.

But when you are in middle school, every time you spend together is a “date.” You go out together without going anywhere. It’s very sophisticated.

At lunch that day, he shared the rest of his plantain chips, and I shared my grapes. He enthralled me with stories about growing up in Brazil. He fascinated me with glimpses of rainforest birds. We had grown up in different hemispheres, but we had so much in common.

For the next few weeks, I looked forward to going to co-op. My mom wondered what was going on when I voluntarily reached the car first every single time. Thanks to Libby, the good times didn’t last. It all went downhill on my twelfth birthday.

Co-op day fell on my birthday that year. Everyone knew it, thanks to the cupcakes my mom had brought for me to share at lunch. They were strawberry-flavored, and David told me they smelled delicious. After we ate, the after-co-op middles sat on the steps in the outdoor alcove.

“We should do something special for Addie’s birthday. And by we, I mean David,” she announced, pointing her glare at David and I. Libby paused, making sure everyone was listening. Her hands went up to her hips. A slight grin twisted her pale lips, and an evil gleam danced in her eyes. “Kiss her.”

A chorus of whoops immediately backed up her words. David’s eyes went wide. His head swiveled to me.

A fig leaf of fear plastered over my face . AHHH... fairy tales don’t have true love’s first kiss in front of the after-co-op middles…

Libby had taken things too far.

I held back my response and glanced at David.

What I saw surprised me—hope-filled eyes laced with a question.

Was it possible that he felt about me the way I was feeling about him? Could this be our version of a fairytale kiss? I nodded and closed my eyes.

That’s when disaster happened.

My eyes watered. My nose tingled. Air gathered.

Uh-oh...

The biggest, snottiest sneeze I have ever had (or ever will have) expelled itself from my body. Not the cute, itzy-q some girls make—it was a loud, snot-flying hippo growl. I had no hope of holding it back.

My eyes flew open. To my horror, the explosion of air and snot arrived mere moments before David was going to kiss me. He got the full brunt of the blast. A massive fallout of sodden debris graced his soft, caramel features.

His nose scrunched up, and his eyes narrowed. His head popped back and to the left. I swear I heard him gag. “ Nojento !” David said.

I didn’t wait for a translation—his body language had been clear enough. I got up and ran inside to the bathroom, tasting salty water from the sneeze and the newly formed tears. The familiar bouquet of antiseptic flowers greeted me as I locked the door.

I need a fairy godmother to whisk me away.

Or an evil fairy to put me to sleep so I can wake up a hundred years from now in a time when no one knows what just happened.

I stayed in the bathroom. No one knocked on the door until my mom told me it was time to go. I didn’t see David—or anyone else—before we left. On the car ride home, my mom kept trying to get me to tell her what was wrong. But I refused to speak.

My mortification was complete. David, my Prince of Birds, would never speak to me again. What made the whole incident even worse was that Libby and the entire gang saw it all happen. She would be sure to remind me at every single chance.

Ugh... I was never, ever going to co-op again!

The following week, I tried to fake sick, but my mom was smarter than that. She had heard through the homeschool-mom-grapevine the gist of what had happened. Some of the middle schoolers were out back, playing a kissing game. Using her spidey sense, she figured I was wrapped up in it somehow.

I refused to share how.

She refused to let me miss the last day. She said I had to face the music. I had to deal with whatever embarrassment came from the game. She was happy to talk about it if I wanted.

I didn’t want.

I wanted to forget the whole thing, but that wasn’t possible.

Off to the co-op, we went. David didn’t show up for class. And he didn’t appear at lunch either. But Libby did. I avoided her by insisting on having lunch with my mother.

After lunch, only the after-co-op middles and a lingering scent of pizza remained in the room. The option of hiding behind a parent’s protection was no longer available. Libby zeroed in on me.

“Where’s your prince?” She said with a smirk playing on her lips.

“I don’t know.” I stared at my shoes.

“You probably got him sick, Princess Snot-Rocket! Or you grossed him out so much that he’s never coming back!” Libby tormented me with my own worst fears.

Tears loomed in my eyes. They sat at the brink of spilling over like water droplets on a penny. I couldn’t speak. A chorus of “Princess Snot-Rocket” ensued. I tried to run and hide in the bathroom, but my feet had grown roots into the tiled floor.

At that moment, my brother, Will, rounded the corner and took in the situation. The tortured look on my face. Libby’s towering tormentor stance. The rest of the kids backing her up. He went into big-brother mode. Will chased the group away and wrapped me up in a big hug.

The tears spilled over, and the story gushed from my lips. He got my mom and relayed the story to her. She drew me into her arms and rubbed my back. “Sweetie, it’s not the end of the world. There will be other times for kisses.”

I didn’t believe her. Everyone everywhere would know. The embarrassment of the whole incident cauterized forever into my brain. One snotty moment had ruined everything. I was now un-kissable. At least, that’s what my pre-teen brain thought.

On that final day of sixth-grade co-op, I swore I would never go to another co-op in my life. It turned out I kept that promise.

David disappeared from my life. The memory of the Prince of Birds was captured in the cardinal charm on my bracelet.

Libby also faded into my memories. Or so I thought...