The only shock that had come to our classmates when I began gushing about my new boyfriend was ... that we hadn't been together before. It is in the mind of peers shockingly early that boys and girls cannot be friends without being in love. Since third grade, I'd heard every version of the "Sitting in a Tree" song imaginable. … And some of them were pretty graphic …

But I digress. It was a discovery of epic proportions for our senior class that Speed and I only had a romantic relationship for a month. Exhibit A) The yearbook.

Now, I never got the yearbook back when I was in elementary school, and I'd left all the high school ones with my parents in junior year. The senior would be the only yearbook I could have. So, in February of that year I ordered one and, naturally, so did the Racers. Not that Speed wanted one … they did.

They came in May.

"Yearbooks!" called one of the student council members one day in homeroom. She pulled out order forms and handed the hardcover, gray books.

"Trixie Shimura!" she called. I hopped over an empty seat next to me and went to the front of the room.

"Speed Racer!" yelled the girl. He joined me at the front. She gave us both our books and said, "Congrats."

'Congrats?' That wasn't usual 'here's your yearbook' talk, was it? I looked at Speed. He shrugged, rolled his eyes and started to flip through the book. Speed didn't know--or care--how half the things at school worked. He barely understood his schoolwork.

I, too, opened the book, savoring the sound of the first strain of the binding. It had that smell I always associated with gloss paper and shined under the florescent lights. I carefully turned the first page. It read: "We've Only Just Begun."

"Hey!" called Speed. "We're in here!"

"Well, we are seniors, Speed," said I.

"No!" he yelled. "I mean ..." but he apparently couldn't articulate what he meant, because he came over and showed me the page he was referring to.

"What are you--?" I asked. He pointed frantically to the page. I looked down. It was a huge picture of us, taking up the whole page. On the top it said "Cutest Couple: Speed Racer and Trixie Shimura"

"Seriously?!" I asked. I remembered back in December when the ballots came around for us to vote for the title of Cutest Couple, the winners of which would be announced in the yearbook. Speed and I saw our names and immediately demanded--not ask, not request, DEMANDED--they take our names off.

"We're not a couple," we had said.

"Are you sure?" asked the head of the committee. "The general consensus around here is that you are."

"I don't give a damn about the general consensus!" snorted Speed. "I know my own love life!" To himself he muttered, "I'm batting 0."

"And something like this," I picked up the ballot, "isn't healthy for a platonic relationship such as ours!"

"Sure," said the committee head. "Well, if you win, we'll just give it to the runner-up, how about that?" We agreed that would be okay, and Speed and I figured that would be the end of it.

Obviously not.

"I guess that whole conversation we had slipped over her head, huh?" I asked him, staring at our picture. It was a rather cute one. I was riding on his back and he was attempting not to drop me. It had been taken sometime while I was working on the set for the school play, as was demonstrated by the paint on my arms.

"We must rule!" exclaimed Speed.

"What?" I asked.

"We're so good together, we can win awards without being a couple!" he explained. "FOR being a couple."

"I wonder who we stole this title from," I thought out loud.

"We so deserved this," Speed joked. "I am totally adorable ..." With a glance at my incredulous face he added, "and you're pretty cute, too." I stuck out my tongue and shoved his arm. We laughed together for a moment, until the bell rang for us to go to our next class. We shut our yearbooks.

"I can't wait to tell Mom and Pops about this," he chortled. "Mom will probably want to rip it out and frame it."

"And you don't?"

"Erm--of course..." he said, figuring that was what I wanted him to. I shook my head, opened the door and sighed, "I'll see you at home, Tiger."

"Don't forget, we're going down to Thunderhead so I can practice!" he called after me. I nodded forcefully. This practice was all he'd talked about for three days. Pops had finally built Speed a T-180 car, so now he could compete in track races. The way Speed spoke about it, you would have thought he'd found the Fountain of Youth.

"I'll be there," I said, giving him the thumbs up. I took a right turn and walked down the hall. He went down the staircase.

"Cutest Couple," I said to myself. More often than not, the Cutest Couple at our school would win the Prom King and Queen titles. I looked to my right. The banner for Prom, in psychedelic colors, was right beside me.

"Spring Ball: May 27th!" it read. I clapped my hands together. That was less than two weeks away. I'd have to bring it up with Speed. Maybe during his practice run...

But, of course, give with one hand, take with the other!

Only two hours after school, I was sitting in the stands at Thunderhead, next to Speed's little brother Spritle, who was now always accompanied by his pet monkey, Chim-Chim.

That chimp slightly scared me. Once, at breakfast, he'd grabbed by left breast with the force only an animal or an angry child could have. Unfortunately, the entire family was busy eating, and no one was paying attention to my predicament. Finally I had to yelp, "Help me!" Speed got him off and smacked Spritle on the back of the head, telling him to control his pet. Now I refused to sit next to the monkey.

My eyes flickered occasionally from the track to my English binder in my lap. As much as I loved watching Speed drive—and that was very much—I had a paper due next week on Oedipus Rex, and I was hoping to start it early. Dreams of that were dashed, however, when I looked down and noticed I had written, "Oedipus was foolish for LOOK OUT, SPEED!!!"

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't in the play," I sighed to myself. I crossed out the capitalized words with my blue pen, shut the binder, sat it on my lap, rested my elbows on it, and placed my chin on my palms.

He was very good at what he did. It was much more interesting to watch him drive than write my paper. I couldn't take my eyes off of the white powerhouse with the 6 on each side. The smile on Speed's face was so large I thought his teeth were glowing.

Thunderhead was such an important place to us. Here we snuck to watch races. Here we shared our first kiss, here he was taught to drive by his now deceased older brother, Rex. Every time he drove on the T-Head track, it was like Rex was alive again for those six minutes.

He looked right at me and smiled just a bit wider.

When he came back around to the finish, we were all waiting for him. Pops was holding a stopwatch, Mom was clapping, Spritle was chasing Chim-Chim, who was holding a candy bar, and I had my hands folded, waiting for him.

"You did good, son," said Pops.

"Thanks, Pops," he said gratefully. He came to hug me. I kiss him gently on the cheek and said, "Can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. But just then, Pops said, "I hope you're still this good in two weeks."

"What's in two weeks?" we asked in unison.

"Your first track race, m'boy!" Pops chuckled, slapping Speed on the back. "May 27th!"

"May 27th?!" I asked. Of all the races in all the world, Pops had to put him in the one that was on Prom Night!!!??

"Really?!" he gasped, ecstatic.

"Yep," Pops nodded. "Over in Nitona."

"Cool!" he exclaimed. He nodded stoutly, and then turned back to me, "What did you want to talk about, Trixie?"

"Me?" I asked. "Oh, nothing important." I gave him another hug, "Your first race ... yay."

But of course, he didn't understand that was code for: 'Your first race is the same day as prom. What a bummer.'