It was like being crazy. Like intrusive thoughts or whatever. My mind stuck in a record groove, his name repeating over and over, "Jordan, Jordan, Jordan". I watched Brian wander back toward his house, watched the cartoons engage in their violent behavior.

If I could somehow break through to him, let him know how much I wanted him without seeming so desperate. But there was no way to do it, no way to break this cycle. When I would think of how much time he probably spent thinking about me and compared it to how much time I spent thinking about him I always shuddered.

The phone sort of beckoned to me. It could link us so easily, in this intimate little dance, his voice in my ear. My voice in his ear. We'd be like in each other's heads. It mocked me, the phone, sitting there filled with all the possibilities of the universe in its cheap plastic casing. But I turned away from it. I couldn't just call him.

Restless, bored, edgy. I didn't know what to do with myself. I could watch T.V. I could go upstairs and look at my homework. I could read Anne Frank and envy her because she was trapped in the attic with the boy she loved. But maybe it was like, she loved him out of necessity. That weird precarious unfair world she lived in, all her hopes and dreams and whatever, all of that taken from her, or at least put on hold. She had no choice but to become insanely in love with someone she could see everyday. Someone who whispered and breathed in the quiet way that they all did to avoid detection. Unlike Anne I had a choice, sort of. I didn't have to be this crazy. So what was wrong with me?

I used to like thinking about him, picturing his face in my mind. Hearing his voice in my head while I took a shower, imagined talking to him, bumping into him in the halls, the lockers closing in around us. My startled expression, his clear blue eyes focused on me. The accidental brush of his hand against mine. I liked looking forward to seeing him in school, seeing him tilt his head back, close his eyes. But something has changed. I still thought about him, still thought about and pictured all those things. But I didn't like it. I felt forced into thinking about him, like my brain had lost the ability to think of anything else. It was almost like a disability. I felt damaged.

Rayann amazed me. She'd just go up and talk to some boy, ask him to go places or call her. She was, like, fearless. It was almost like I carried the fear for both of us. In school I was afraid to even look at Jordan, like he'd catch me and know exactly what I was thinking.

So sick of myself. I could never, like, get away from myself. Was I the only one who felt this way? I grew weary of having to be around myself 24 hours a day and think my thoughts, fear my fears. I was tired of the way Jordan Catalano had crawled into my viscera and I couldn't get him out. I wanted a break from myself for just five minutes.

I had Jordan's number, of course I did. It was right in the phone book. I looked at it, his last name and the address and the number right there. It was written down on a piece of notebook paper but I knew it by heart. I had memorized it the second I saw it. I could call him, my fingers ached to dial the numbers. I was almost daring myself to do it. Call him, call him, my own mocking voice said in my head and then laughed. So much fear packed into two words, 'call him,'

I sighed, popped in a tape and let the music fill the room. I tried to just listen to it and block out my thoughts. I'd just listen to some music. Of course I couldn't call Jordan Catalano. He probably wasn't even home.

It was coming down to this thing, like I had to call him. I had no choice. And if he asked me who the hell I was I'd just have to deal with that. If he sounded bored and we had nothing to talk about then that would just be how it was. But his number burned in my brain and I had to at least try. Had to get outside of myself for at least a little while.

I picked up the phone, heard the dial tone, impersonal. Felt the smooth plastic against the palm of my hand. I felt dizzy. Jesus, what was I even doing?