Thursday, July 15, 1976
Dear Diary,
This day might go down in history as being one of the best days in the history of my existence. Maybe I should buy myself an expensive bookmark and put it in this book. Maybe I should save this leather-bound notebook and put it in a safe somewhere. I might want to remember this night for the rest of my life.
Anyways, James was coming over around four o'clock to work on the project a bit. I wound up wearing my capris and a green tank top and figured I looked good enough. I didn't want to look over the top or anything. Besides, this was James Potter. James Potter.
He rang the bell. This time, thankfully, he didn't have flowers with him. He was, however, wearing the same pair of jeans and the same polo shirt. I don't think he owns many muggle outfits. It did appear, though, that he had scrubbed his trainers in an attempt to look more… I don't know what the word is that I want to insert here.
More neat? More date-worthy? More… Less like James?
Anyways, I let him in and we went up to my room. The paper was just about ready to be written, so I did most of the handwriting while he explored my room.
Yes, you read that right. He explored my room.
I do not know why I let James Potter go through my dresser drawers. He examined my shirts, my old school books, went through pictures of Emmeline, Dorcas, Marlene, and I.
But he just had so many sweet things to say about my stuff.
"I've never seen this shirt before. It would probably look good on you." He said, after he held up a tan blouse that I always thought look hideous.
"You saved all your schoolbooks?"
Well, fine, that wasn't sweet-sounding, but he said it in such an admirable tone of voice! I just wanted to hug him.
I just wanted to hug James Potter. That sounds so weird to say.
He smiled and laughed at all the right pictures, and didn't even comment on the pictures where I had that really awful bob haircut in third year. And that haircut got me teased by everybody in third year. I looked like a walrus that entire year.
The paper didn't take me too long to write, so I was done by the time we had dinner.
As expected, Mother went all out again tonight. We were once again eating in the dining room, although we were having pasta this time. She kept asking James if everything tasted okay, and if he wanted anything else. Which is rather funny, James will eat anything. I've seen him eat a bug on a dare in second year.
I snorted after Mother asked James for the third time about the garlic bread. I think Mom thought I was being as cheeky as I was last meal. She sent me a look over the table.
James and I walked down to the carnival after that. It was only a few blocks away. As usual, it was the same collaboration of cotton candy and lemonade stands. There were a few rides, including a fun house, a Tilt-A-Whirl, a very small roller coaster, and a ferris wheel. There were clowns on stilts, who were actually not that good at balancing themselves. There were swarms of little children eating candy apples and herding their friends and families on towards the next ride.
I sent a look at James. Did he really want to be here? Now that he was finally out of my house, would the teasing begin?
"Let's get ourselves a wristband." He said
Half an hour later, James and I both had a bright orange band around our wrists and we been through the fun house and on the Tilt-A-Whirl. We had walked around the fair twice. James had gotten out a bit of prickiness by attempting to trip that clown on stilts.
"Here, watch this." He had told me, finding a large stick in the shrubbery surround the fairgrounds. Walking very nonchalantly, he dropped the stick directly in the path of the clown.
The clown, paying attention to the children on his left, did not see the stick. The clown kept walking in it's jerky fashion; one leg in front of the other.
The clown fell right over the stick, and landed on a heap on the ground. Unable to get up onto it's stilts, the clown waved it's arms hopelessly, much to the enjoyment of the surrounding children. And of course, James. James laughed louder than anybody. I guess some things never change.
I rolled my eyes at James when he walked back to where I was standing.
"Sometimes, I just can't stand you." I confessed to him.
He smiled that swarmy smile he always does when he knows he's getting on my nerves. I have seen it so many times over the course of our six years together in school.
"Come on, I'll make it up to you." He said, breaking into a run.
"What, where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep up.
Unfortunately, running in flip-flops is never a good idea. I was forced to trail along behind James, as he covered much more ground than me in his trainers.
By the time I caught up, I realized where we were standing. We were in line for the ferris wheel.
"Do you have a fear of heights, Evans?" he asked, chortling slightly.
I looked up at the ride, not even registering that he had called me by my surname. Is being called by your surname a good thing or a bad thing? Last names are never sexy.
"More of a fear about how safe these rides are." I admitted, looking up.
"Well, let's find out."
The next thing I knew, we were sitting on the seat, the bar across our laps. The ride creaked into motion and we were heading for the top of the ferris wheel. I took a deep breath.
"Scared?" James asked, rocking our cart slightly.
"No, stop!" I demanded, looking down at the ground.
"Well, then we should find some other way to entertain ourselves on this ride."
I looked at him puzzled. This was a ride, it was supposed to be the entertainment. What was he talking about?
Then suddenly, he was leaning in towards me, slowly. He put his hand on my shoulder, gently. James looked into my eyes to see how I was reacting.
Numbly, I nodded.
James leaned over me more, and suddenly, our mouths met.
James Potter was kissing me. Me, the girl I thought he loved to tease. The girl I thought he hated. And most of all, I was enjoying it.
I wasn't even paying attention to the distance we were from the ground. I didn't care that the wheel creaked every time it rotated. I didn't even notice that the kids below us were pointing and laughing at us for quite a long time.
Maybe, for once, my parents were actually right.