The wind rustled Chris’s hair and clothes as it brushed across the hill where he was sitting, but he was oblivious to it. As usual for him, his cheeks were wet with tears; every day, rain or sun, cold or warm, he would sit here by himself thinking and almost always crying the tears that had he bottled up that day. His only companion was his CD player, singing to him of love and loss, of empty places and unfulfilled promises.

"Why did this happen to me, again?" His tears today were almost as angry as they were sad. They were always sad, but today he was feeling worse than usual. All he could think about was her. Angela. All he could see, despite what others would have called a majestic and beautiful view of nature, was her angelic face framed by wavy brown hair that fell to her shoulders. He could almost look deep into her gorgeous brown eyes.  She was the source of his pain, and she didn’t even have a clue about it. I wish I could rip my heart out. "All it ever does is hurt me," he thought. "How long can this keep up?"  She’s so beautiful, smart, and I don’t have a chance in hell.Why do I always get crushes on the girls that are out of reach?She could never like me.She probably would rather not even know me.Why did I have to be so much of a geek?"

In a fit of rage, he yelled out at the sky.Why?!Why am I here?What the hell did I do to deserve this?!" His cry echoed through the hills, but then it died and was gone." Wiping the tears from his face, he stood up and picked up his book bag, ready to make the walk back home alone.

"It was only a short walk from his little hang-out to home, but it always seemed to take forever, and today was no different. To anyone who drove by, he appeared a normal teenager, about 5 feet and 9 inches tall, with short-cut, combed brown hair and a serious demeanor. He had grown pretty successful at hiding his inner feelings; none who saw him would’ve been able to guess about the pain and anger that was in his heart.

"Hey Mom, I’m home." Another school day was over. He was at the only place where he even felt loved or wanted.

"How was school, kiddo?" The mature female voice sounded as if it came from the kitchen of his modest one-story, two bed, two bath house. It was just he and his Mom; it had been that way for a long time. For a few years, he had had a stepfather, but that was a long time ago. He didn’t know his father; Dad had abandoned his mother the second he learned that she was pregnant.

"Fine, as always, Mom." He lied. It was easier this way, if he kept his feelings to himself.He had found out pretty quickly that all she ever did when he was down was pester him about what was wrong when he didn’t want to talk about it, so he gave that up a long time ago.

"Anything new?"

"Nope." It used to hurt, lying to Mom this way.But that, too, was a long time ago. "And you?How was work?"

"Oh, it was good." She started talking about the new events at the workplace, and he just nodded, not really paying any attention. It was all pretty much irrelevant anyway, just mindless gossip.He listened just enough to know when to nod his head or give an affirmative "yeah," or even more rarely, "cool."

"All right, Mom, I’m going to get started on work.What’s for dinner?" He paused, waiting for an answer, before starting for his room. "Cool, call me when it’s done." He barely heard her affirmative response as he walked to his room. He dumped his book bag on his bed and sat down. As always, his homework required little thought, and so he worked, like an automaton, pausing only when his Mom called him for dinner.

The rest of the night was like any other, and as he lay his head down on his pillow to sleep, his last thoughts were, "How much longer can this go on?"

 

"Pssst.Hey, Chris, what’s up?" Nathan nudged him. Nathan was really the only real friend that Chris had; he was the only guy who knew about Chris’s little crush on Angela ."You know, man, you really should ask her out.Stop tormenting yourself. If she says no, then that’s it, at least you tried!"

"Yeah, whatever, Nathan.I know what’ll happen, there’s no point."

"Are you sure you know?Carpe diem, isn’t that how it goes? Seriously, give it a shot. I’ve got your back."

Chris sighed in frustration. "Maybe he’s got a point," he thought. "Besides, if I followed his advice, at least I would’ve tried. Ah, what the heck." Sighing again, he said, "Okay, Nathan, what do I need to do?"

Nathan smiled, "I knew you had it in you. Okay, here’s the deal. This girl isn’t as snobby as you think she is... you really do her a disservice with this attitude of yours. Just be yourself and at least try to appear confident and you’ll have a pretty decent shot at it. Got any plans for this weekend?"

Chris shook his head, "Of course he didn’t. Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll do it at lunch."

"You need me to be there?" Nathan asked.

"Nah, that’d probably look lame, as if we’re ganging up on her. I can handle it. Thanks."

From the moment he had made his decision to lunch, his morning classes seemed to last for an eternity. Every second that passed just increased the nervousness in his stomach. "Why am I so nervous? I know what she’ll say." He thought to himself, but still, the anxiety continued. Then, finally, lunch came.

Holding his tray and walking towards where Angela was sitting for lunch, Chris swallowed, as if he could swallow his fears. Somehow, he managed to appear calm. "I’ve had a lot of experience hiding my feelings, after all." It seemed a reasonable thought. Then, he sat down, right next to her.

"Hey, Chris." She greeted him casually. Despite the mere casual greeting, a burst of sudden self-confidence exploded through him, she even knew his name. A trivial matter, to be sure, but it meant a good deal to him at the time.

"Hey." His head spun, as he thought, "Should I ask her now? Should I wait a few minutes?" Then, almost uncontrollably, he asked the question. "You have any plans for Saturday night? Want to go out to eat and see a movie?"

Her short reply changed him forever: "Sure, I’d love to." Inside, he wanted to jump out of his chair and scream his joy, but somehow he remained collected. He never thought that the outcome could be positive like this.

That afternoon, as he sat on the hill, the tears streamed down his face once more. One thing, though, differentiated that afternoon from the others he had spent there: the tears were of uncontrollable happiness