RichardDaub.com, November 2023

In third period health class at the Alfred G. Berner Ninth Grade School—

“Dude, Donna from gym class likes you,” Ryan told Carl. Donna was one of the girls who’d been on his team in the co-ed volleyball unit and had not said a single word to him during the entire two weeks.

“Really?” Carl asked. “Wait, who is she again?”

“She’s nothin’ special, junior, but she’s a good start to get your dick wet, you know, so you can get some experience.”

“I see you’ve given this some thought.”

“Dude, just roll with it and cover up.”

* * *

The next day in health class, Ryan arrived bearing a note written on pink loose-leaf paper folded into a perfect puffy triangle with Carl’s name written in girly cursive.

“I’ve never seen pink loose-leaf paper before,” Carl said. “You didn’t read this, did you?”

“Never in a million years would I be able to fold it back up like that.”

“True. It is impressive.”

“Open it.”

Carl shrugged and unfolded the note.

Dear Carl,

I had fun playing volleyball on your team and want to go out with you. Call me. 799-XXXX.

Love,
Donna

She had drawn hearts above her name. The paper smelled of perfume.

“Dude, she wants you,” Ryan said, slapping him on the shoulder.

* * *

That evening, with the upstairs hallway phone pulled into his room, cord at its maximum, Carl, for nearly an hour, punched in the first six digits until he finally worked the courage to punch the seventh.

The phone rang several times before someone finally picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is Donna home?”

“This is Donna.”

“Oh, hi, this is Carl… from school… I got your note.”

She didn’t respond.

“You said you wanted to go out with me?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Okay. Well, yeah, I’ll go out with you.”

“Okay. I gotta go.”

“Uh, when should we go out?”

“I’ll give Ryan a note tomorrow.”

She hung up without saying good-bye.

* * *

The next day in health class—

Carl unfolded the pink triangle Ryan had just given him.

Carl,

I can’t see you anymore.

Respectfully,
Donna

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t know. I called her last night and we talked. She didn’t really say very much, and then she said she had to go and would give you a note.”

“Damn, man, that sucks, but at least you got your dick wet.”

“What? I don’t even know who she is!”

“Well, you’re lucky to have at least had a girlfriend and some experience getting dumped like a sack of trash.”

“Well, I wish I at least knew what she looked like.”

“Don’t worry, dude, she’ll be in the yearbook.” ▪