48 First Dates (Seeking Romance #1)

The Prince of First Days

3

Bully strikes again!

I make a best friend and meet

the Prince of First Days.

S eventh-grade homeschool proceeded much the same, minus co-op because there wasn’t one that year. But our eighth-grade year swirled into a vortex of lazy chaos. My dad lost his job and opened his own business. His plan to strike out on his own didn’t go so well, which resulted in my mom going back to work.

Distracted by his budding venture, my dad failed to be the taskmaster we needed. We picked up a bit of a lounging-around-the-house habit. One that led to a lack of learning. To salvage our education, our parents shipped my brother and me off to public school.

On the first day of ninth grade at McCracken High, my nerves were as tight as a kite string on a windy day. That awkward teenager feeling ramped up to DEFCON level five. I needed to prepare for anything because I had no idea how public school worked.

I found comfort in the knowledge that I wasn’t the only newbie. Our high school served the whole county. The kids came from several schools. Plus, new people moved into the area all the time.

I wandered down the halls, reminding myself of the history of McCracken High School. The school was not named after our town. Rather, it got its title after our most famous resident, Dr. Ed McCracken.

Ed was a world-famous pickleball player before pickleball was a thing. He invented the McCracken dink. It’s a move that shocked the opponent with a loud sound followed by a shallow dink. A Monica Seles kind of move that apparently had won him loads of tournaments. Boomer pickleball players all over the globe still use it.

I don’t know this for sure. I have never played or watched pickleball.

Truth time—I don’t even know what a dink is.

But that didn’t matter on the first day at McCracken High as I searched for my homeroom. I walked with crossed arms and avoided eye contact. In my head, I gave myself a pep talk.

You can do this, Adelaide. You are a cool person. Your brain is filled with lots of interesting stuff. People love you. Princess Snot-Rocket is in the past. No one here knows. Let’s make friends, see them laugh, and learn lots of crappity frack ships!

I found the room and shuffled to an empty spot. I slid into the blue plastic seat and rested my hands on the faux wood desk. The room smelled fresh and clean, ready for a new year. There was nothing on the walls to draw my attention. There were no clues written on the board. I stared at my hands, pretending to play chopsticks on the desk.

Ring, bell, ring!

Before the tone sounded, I heard, “Mitzi the Ditzi, I’m gonna spitzy ‘cause she’s too ditzy.”

My head popped up. Almost all the seat-desks were full. The girl in the chair in front of me pulled the blue-green braids of the girl in front of her.

The girl with the mermaid braids was statue-still. She sniffled as she lifted her hand.

Was she wiping away tears?

The back of the head in front of me looked vaguely recognizable. The voice had a familiar timber. My brain scrambled to place them both.

I looked around—no teacher yet. Everyone else kept their heads down, content to ignore the bully. But I understood how the girl with the braids felt.

I pushed down the niggling feelings and said, “Hey, leave her alone.”

As soon as I closed my mouth, it clicked.

I knew that voice. I knew that pale neck.

Libby Jane Barnes.

What is she doing here? She’s older. This is a freshman class. All this ran through my head faster than a cheetah chasing after a rabbit.

Meanwhile, Libby turned in slow motion, sneering when she put a face to the voice. “Princess Snot-Rocket! What a pleasant surprise! Now, all year long, I’m going to be sandwiched between two people who will get me whatever I need—homework, lunch money, and more.” She said with a curled upper lip.

My eyes went wide. My heart started to beat faster. How was I going to get out of this one?

I opened my mouth to speak. But I was interrupted by creaking door hinges and clipping heels. The teacher walked into the classroom as the bell rang. Everyone looked to the front.

The teacher introduced herself as Mrs. Klisnick and started by calling the roll. I saw her look up when she called Libby’s name, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. I heard her call my name. I acknowledged my presence.

After that, I heard little of her welcome-to-school-and-these-are-the-rules speech. For the fifteen minutes of student check-in, my mind focused on sifting possibilities.

How should I handle Libby?

Should I make a run for it?

Should I pretend like nothing happened?

Should I stay in my seat in the safety of the teacher’s presence until she is gone?

Should I make Adelaide’s Last Stand?

Each scenario made an appearance at the forefront of my mind, playing out a mini-scene in full-color cartoonish glory. I didn’t like any of the options. My heart raced as I tried to find a way out of the comic strip moment.

What the H–E–Double-hockey-sticks am I going to do?

I spun the wheel and landed on making a run for it for $500.

Pat Sajak, I’m not solving the puzzle. I’m making it to the back door first.

Final answer.

When I jumped up like the snot-rocket I was, so did the girl with the blue-green braids. She rushed past me. Libby joined in a hot, sluggish pursuit. I watched as the old lady speed-walker race played out through the plastic chair-desk aisle. After all, you can’t run in a classroom.

I stood there for a moment, taking in the scene. And that’s when I sensed I had to ignore the wheel. I called an audible to make Adelaide’s Last Stand, no matter how painful it may be.

Libby would not win again. I was not going to spend the year in the bathroom avoiding student check-in. For one thing, that would ruin my plan for perfect attendance domination. For another thing, I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

I turned and followed Libby out of the classroom. Out in the hallway, she grabbed the girl’s braids. Libby screamed, “Mitzi the Ditzi!” once more.

I planted my feet and took a deep breath. A hint of fear mixed with the scent of a cluster of teenagers.

You can do this, Adelaide.

With all the Dr. Ed McCracken I could muster, I yelled, “DINK!”

Every head in the hallway swiveled in my direction, including Libby’s. The shock on her face was worth the shaking and weakness that now inhabited my knees. The locker-lined hall was completely silent despite it being packed with students. I noticed a seriously cute boy staring my way. A flush bloomed in my cheeks.

A cackle broke the silence. I watched in horror as Libby’s upper lip raised. Her hands remained firmly on the girl’s mermaid braids. She pulled the girl in my direction, opening her mouth.

Now, I’ve done it...

The staring boy parted the student-filled hallway like a hot knife through butter. But there was no way he was going to make it here in time. I didn’t want him to see this part. Every fiber of my being knew what the next sound would be. It was going to be me hitting the hard floor after Libby hit me square in the jaw. The taste of blood mixed with tears would fill in my mouth.

This is going to hurt...

Before fist met flesh, the teacher came out of the classroom. She took in the situation and demanded Libby follow her to the principal’s office. As they walked off, the entire hall erupted with applause. The adorable boy, who had stopped his butter-knife progress, started the ovation.

More teachers poured into the hallway and demanded that students get to class. I stood there, leaning on a bank of lockers, waiting for the strength to come back.

The girl with the mermaid braids turned to me and said, “That was awesome! You totally distracted her and took the heat off me. I’ve never been able to do that in my life. I’m Mitzi Katz, by the way. It’s short for Miriam. I probably wouldn’t have so many issues if I went by my full name. But I’ve always been Mitzi to my family because my grandmother, who lives with us, is also Miriam. It got too confusing. So, I got the nickname, and now when someone says Miriam, I look for my grandma.”

She kept going at a rapid pace. All I could think was, Breathe!!

“Anywho, that’s who I am. By the way, thanks! What’s your schedule like? What’s your next block? Let’s hope we have more than a student check-in together. When do you have lunch? I hate sitting alone in the cafeteria. In the first place, it smells. And then it gets so loud with everyone talking. And then you feel so lonely because you don’t have anyone to talk to. You get it, right?” She paused as she looked at me. “Sorry about that. I talk a lot when I’m nervous. Hey, I never asked—what’s your name?”

This girl was spunky and unique, exactly the kind of friend I needed. “Adelaide. I’m heading to geometry with Mr. Warren. I have B Lunch.”

She squealed with delight. “I’m heading to geometry, too! And I have lunch in the second slot as well. It’s the best slot! Ten-forty-five lunch is too early. Twelve-thirty is too late. Eleven-thirty-five is just right. And I knew your name couldn’t be Princess Snot-Rocket, though I bet there’s a story there. Don’t worry. You’ll share it with me someday when you’re ready. You see, Adelaide. Ads, if I may dare, we’re going to be best friends!” she said as we entered the room where our geometry class was supposed to be.

The rest of the morning passed by quicker than I had expected. I looked forward to having lunch with Mitzi. When I got to the lunchroom, I scanned the room for her. Before I located her green-blue hair, someone cleared a throat behind me.

I assumed it was Mitzi, so I turned, gasping when I saw who it was.

Spoiler alert—it wasn’t her.

It was the guy.

The one with the teenage muscles of my dreams. The one with delicious brown eyes and dark, wavy hair. The kind of hair that you wanted to lose your fingers in. The butter-knife guy who had stared at me in the hallway earlier that morning. The one who was going to star in my fairytale dream that night. The one who I was sure three hours ago would never give me the time of day.

He was the one clearing his throat. He was moving his lips to speak to me. My brain revisited reality in time to hear, “... Adam. I wondered if I could take you out to ice cream after school. You know, to welcome you and thank you for what you did in the hall today.”

“Sure, that would be great. Where should we meet?” The words plopped out of my mouth. There was no way I was letting this opportunity pass by.

“On the mall, out in front of the school, after the last bell,” Adam said in reply as he turned around to walk away.

For a moment, I stood there, imagining the beginning of another fairy tale. And that’s when I spotted Mitzi sitting at a table by herself at the edge of the lunchroom.

I speed-walked my way to her. “Mitzi, I just got asked out on a date!” I didn’t let her speak. I feared I would never get an opening to tell her the details. “He saw the mess this morning and wanted to take me out to welcome and thank me. I said yes without thinking, so now you have to go with me to make sure he’s not some kind of stalker.”

Mitzi grinned. “You know I will. Gotta watch out for my new best friend!”

She spent the rest of the lunch period peppering me with questions. She wanted to learn about my life, and she shared snippets of hers. We both loved reading. We both loved fairy tales. She preferred the under-the-sea variety, which explained her mermaid-ombre hair. The time slipped by so quickly that the ringing of the bell caused me to fall out of my chair.

On our way out of the cafeteria, I saw my brother, who was my ride home. I introduced him to Mitzi and told him our plans to get ice cream after school. He promised to swing by there about an hour after school let out to pick me up.

Everything was set.

When the last bell sounded, I strode to the entrance. My new best friend waited inside the double doors. “Let’s do this.”

I nodded, and we opened the doors together.

I spotted Adam almost immediately. “There he is.” I pointed as discreetly as possible.

Mitzi followed my finger and started laughing. She screamed, “Adam!” and ran toward him.

What. The. Fairies! I ran after her as fast as I could.

Adam rolled his eyes at Mitzi as we walked up. “Mitz, always a pleasure,” Adam said before turning to me. “Sorry, I had to run earlier. I had class. But I saw you and wanted to catch you before the day was up. I really appreciate what you did in the hallway for my cousin.”

Shut up! He’s Mitzi’s cousin!

“Okay, girls, to the ice cream shop we go!” Adam said.

Wait, is this a date or not?

He asked. I said yes. We were going somewhere.

I’m counting it as a date.

Five minutes later, we opened the door to Honeybees . The aroma of chocolate mixed with warm sugar greeted us. We all ordered, and Adam paid for my ice cream. He sat next to me in the booth.

Date. Definitely a date, right?

We chatted and laughed until he excused himself for a minute. That’s when Mitzi leaned over. “So, Adam is my cousin. He’s sweet, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Ever. He’s too focused on getting a tennis scholarship and going to college. Thinks he’s going to be the next Roger Federer and David Baltimore in one. But if I could convince him, I totally would want him to date you!”

That’s when I was sure my new best friend was my favorite kind of friend. One that would tell you like it is. One that wanted the best for you. And one that would always make you laugh.

My third first date was more of a thank-you than a get-to-know-you. And it wasn’t going anywhere, ever. Still, I added a charm to my bracelet. Adam was my Prince of First Days. The #1 that hung on the silver circle captured the memory of him and my bravery that day.

The sight of it reminded me of how that day began an unforgettable freshman year. And how that day led to a lifelong, beautiful friendship.