Everything about him is perfect; his eyes, his clothes, his swagger.
Every night he blesses my dreams.
Every girl wants him, and every guy wants to be him.
But there are so many girls for him to choose; I am clearly not one of them.
He'll never notice me, though Lord knows I notice him.
Grace sighed and glanced up from her notebook to her muse across the hall, the most popular (and hottest) boy at Todayland Middle School, eighth-grader Wilbur Robinson. He wasn't even trying to make her melt at the sight of him-he was just chatting with one of his friends while swapping books out of his locker—but dang was he good at it.
True to her poetry, every girl in the school wanted a piece of him, but unlike her, most others did so for the wrong reasons. Most of his popularity stemmed from the fact that his father was the reason that the future was the way it was now. As a result, most girls flirted with him purely in the hopes that they could mooch off some of that notoriety, as well as any riches that are bound to have come with it.
Grace saw more to Wilbur than just fame and fortune. You would figure that an upbringing like his would have turned him into an entitled jerk, but he held an air of modesty that she admired. His friend circle consisted of kids from every cliché in the school's lexicon, from jocks to nerds to even a few of what some would call the "outcasts," which she considered herself to be part of. And possibly her favorite part, how adorable is that name? Every time she scribbled his name onto yet another page in her notebook, she couldn't help but giggle.
As she continued to stare at him, watching as he playfully slugged his friend in the arm and began to laugh, she was startled back to reality by the locker above hers slamming shut. "Yo, Earth to Grace," yelled the locker's owner, her best friend Carolyn. "I hate to interrupt your favorite show, but it's Taco Tuesday and I'm starving."
"You know, you don't have to wait for me," Grace said, rolling her eyes at the same time Carolyn rolled hers, "You're my friend, not my caregiver."
"I just think it would be rude to just leave you behind," Carolyn added, "If you insist, though, I'll save you a spot in the cafeteria." With that, she walked away.
By this point, Wilbur and his friend had already left for their next class, so Grace had no other reason to still be at her locker. She decided to replace the notebook she had in her lap with the one she uses for her English assignments, since she had not yet finished one that was due that day and had it as her next subject after lunch. After switching them out, she rolled away in the direction of the cafeteria, the wheels on her chair squeaking across the floor as she did so.
…
"Ow! watch it, will ya?!"
Grace must have gotten distracted again, because she didn't even see the boy as she was heading in the direction of her next classroom. She assumed it was partially due to her determination to not be late, as the room was on the other side of the school opposite her locker.
Another factor would possibly be who the boy was walking with.
The boy winced as he leaned against the wall, standing on one foot and holding the other, which Grace had accidentally run over, with both hands.
"I'm so sorry," she said, blushing and trying to keep herself from crying.
He didn't show any signs of acceptance to her apology. Instead, he just walked away, limping dramatically and punctuating every step with a pained whine.
As she continued down the hall, scared that the late bell would ring any minute, she heard someone call, "Wait," after her.
"I said I was sorry," she protested as she turned around, "What more do you-"
She stopped when she realized that it wasn't the same guy. It was Wilbur, holding her notebook.
"You dropped this," he said, and she mumbled another apology as she took it.
"Hey, it's no big deal," he reassured her, slightly embarrassed for his friend, "And hey, I'm sorry about Jake. He was just kidding around. I think."
She forced out a snicker and a thank you as he headed after his friend, yelling at him to wait up. She made it into the classroom just as the bell rang and took her place at the desk behind Carolyn's. English was one of her favorite subjects, and despite the last-minute revisions and the fact that she had gone the old "Fairy Tale Prince and Princess" route, she felt confident that this short story was worth at least a ninety-five percent.
Being shy, Grace volunteered to go first and get hers out of the way. After writing the title of her story on the board, she opened her notebook to where she thought she had it marked...
Her eyes went wide as she saw what was really on the page.
Without thinking, she must've put her English notebook back into her locker after lunch and replaced it with her poetry notebook.
The one that was filled with love poems dedicated to Wilbur.
"It's okay, Grace," the teacher, Mrs. Keely, reassured her, "The sooner you start, the sooner it's over. Don't be embarrassed."
"Uh, it's not that," Grace replied nervously, "I-I think I grabbed the wrong-"
"Grace, if you can't find the story you wanted to turn in, just read whatever's in front of you," Mrs. Keely said, "You're writing is always exceptional. I'm sure whatever you have there is no different."
What Grace had in front of her happened to be the most embarrassing thing she'd ever written, but instead of asking to be excused and retrieve the right book (which would've taken up half of the class period), she decided to just rip off the proverbial bandage and read it.
"Roses are red, v-violets aren't blue," she began, her voice cracking and tears swimming in her vision, before quickly ending with, "but Wilbur Robinson, I love you." The second the words left her mouth, she buried her face in her hands and tried to ignore the inevitable, but there was no denying it; the rest of the class had already erupted into a peal of laughter. Mrs. Keely gave her an apologetic look as she returned to her seat and attempted to bury her shame in a blank page of her notebook. Well, it was blank until she dropped a few tears onto it.
…
Outside in the school's courtyard, while waiting for their rides home, Wilbur was still giving Jake grief for the stunt he had pulled earlier. "That really wasn't cool, man," he chided, "You could've at least said okay after she said she was sorry."
"C'mon Wil, you know I was just playing," Jake protested.
"Yeah, I knew, but she didn't."
"Why don't you interrogate me more tomorrow, officer," Jake said, walking to his parents' car, "My mom's here."
With his friend gone, Wilbur noticed the girl from before had parked her wheelchair by the bench in front of the entrance. Another girl had been sitting on the bench next to her, but had since left. He wondered if they had been fighting or something, because the girl looked pretty upset.
"Hey," he greeted as he approached her, "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied, not looking at him.
"You're not still upset about Jake, are you," he asked as he sat down next to her, "I promise, I'm doing my best to straighten him out."
"No, it's not that," she confirmed, "But I really don't want to talk about it."
A few seconds after he said "okay," she looked and saw that he hadn't left. "We don't have to talk," he said, "but I still figured you could use the company."
They sat in silence for several minutes, the girl's heart practically exploding out of her chest. All good things must come to an end, however, as the hover-bus pulled up and began lowering a ramp for her.
"I-I gotta go," she said as she made her way towards the vehicle.
"Yeah, my ride's here too," Wilbur said, "I'll see you later." Then after a beat, he added, "Oh, hey, what's your name?"
"Grace," the girl answered before the driver helped her board the bus.
…
That evening, Wilbur decided to meet another friend at the arcade after swearing to his mom up and down that he had finished his homework. Stopping his skateboard to text his friend that he was almost there, he found himself standing in front of the old 6th Street orphanage.
He noticed that there was a light on through one of the first floor windows.
"That's weird," he said to himself as he approached the window, "This place has been shut down for decades."
He did not expect to see a familiar face in the room.
After taking a bit of time to ease herself out of her chair and into the bottom bunk bed, he watched as Grace reached over to the dresser and picked up a picture frame, holding it to her chest and crying.
So many questions were left unanswered by this: How long has she been living like this? How had no one else noticed her before? What could have happened to her family that brought her here?
Wilbur returned to his phone, instead telling his friend that he needed to cancel, before racing back home.