• Amanda liked walking home with him.
    After school, when it wasn't too cold, she'd wait for him outside of the gym and then he'd come out, sweating and smiling. "I'll be right back, babe," He always said as he walked into the locker room, like the most gorgeous machine, but she didn't mind because he was beautiful and most of all he was hers. This was never discussed-- for all she knew, he could have a girlfriend, a hundred thousand of them-- but after school at exactly 2:25 on the dot he would come out in a polo shirt and bootcut jeans and take her hand. And together, side by side, they'd amble down the halls and out the door, talking about so many things, so many exciting things. He played basketball; his father had been in the sport, too, but now he was a photographer. Very famous, she assumed he was, and as dashing as his son. The father and son were always traveling a lot; during the summers they went to all sorts of exotic places. "Pyramids, did you ever see the pyramids?", he had asked her one day, as they walked onto the street, and she had shook her head and he had grinned because he had and they were wonderful. "It's amazing what people all the way back then could accomplish," He had said and she nodded, though she could not believe the pyramids were anywhere near as amazing as this boy.
    When they walked, he always pointed to the birds and called them their scientific names. "That one," his finger aimed at a small black bird on the ground, "is a Crowius Blackolous." Later, at home, she tried to pronounce the name; it did not sound magnificent at all when the words passed through her ordinary lips. It sounded even imaginary, like the most foolish thing. That couldn't really be what a crow is called-- but it must be, if he said so. He had learned all these names from his mother, who had been a model for some time before leaving the field to pursue science. She was a zoologist now, he said, and an excellent one at that. When she had time, she would accompany the rest of her family on their adventures, guiding them to amazing environmental discoveries. "There are plants in the rainforest that have leaves that taste just like chocolate," He said as they went over the grass in the baseball field.
    "What kind?"
    "Any kind. Even mint chocolate," He had whispered into her ear because mint chocolate was her favorite kind and because he liked to see her giggle, and she would giggle most when his face hovered only inches from hers.
    When they were halfway through the walk, and in the middle of trees and soil and not much else, he would twirl her around and pretend to be a glorious, acclaimed singer who was wooing a young listener from the crowd. His mouth enticingly close to her neck, he would croon beautiful words onto her skin, and they would rub against her like cats and make her whole body smile. The trees seemed to lean in as he wove cliches together with his tongue, making it all sound so good. She closed her eyes and imagined running away with this earthly Apollo, to an island with nothing but yet it had everything. He was all that she needed, he and his beauty and his warmth and his words. The walk could've gone much faster, had they bothered to make an effort to move forward at an efficient pace, but the forest was a much more peaceful place than home. And, as the songs would wind down and her hair was whirled into an unkempt mess, he would put a hand on her belted waist and she would know. Sometimes, it was only a storm of kisses, soft and quick, and sometimes it was more, but the trees did not let slip a word either way. They stood still, seduced into quiet by the boy as he waited patiently for her to smooth out the wrinkles of her shirt.
    The rest of the way to her house was never very interesting, as little was said then between them, but still she would admire his eyes and imagine the rippling of his muscles as he moved. At her porch, he would continue to hold her hand, and they would look up at the darkening sky and search for any visible stars. "My sister's seen all of these up close," He had said, "And, did I tell you? She just reached Mars. There's evidence up there of life, you know. She found footprints; lots of them."
    She nodded, enthralled-- she had told her own sister, who was an accountant, about how much progress NASA had made, and the sister had scoffed at her and called the boy a liar. A liar! The thought made her laugh.
    "I've never known anyone as clever as you," She said, her fingers petting the front of his silken hair.
    To her amusement, he replied, "And you never will."