The Temperature of Me and You

by Brian Zepka

I have four main takeaways from my Chemistry test today. First, the symbol on the periodic table for oxygen looks like the number of interesting things that happen in my life on a regular basis. The symbol for sodium, Na, represents my history of romance—not applicable. The symbol for radon, Rn, stands for my thoughts on when I want a boyfriend—right now. And the symbol for ununhexium, Uuh, is my response when people ask me if I am going to do something about it.

Me, a skinny gargoyle who is teetering on okay in the looks department,

Jimmy is an unfortunate soul from another school who’s been directed here as a possible boyfriend candidate for me. But my thoughts about that are represented by the symbol for the element nobelium, No.

“Nice, man!” Jimmy exclaims. I jerk my head back at his enthusiasm. “Right on.” He extends his arm and puts his palm up. I scan it with my eyes, tracing the lines on his skin. He leaves it in the air for what I’m assuming is a high five. I want to melt into a puddle like a vanilla ice-cream cone, be washed up with a mop, wrung out, and never be seen again. Kirsten’s and Perry’s lips curl in, ready to burst from laughter knowing I’m going to have to partake in this bro moment. I take a few steps toward him, because he’s too far from me to reach, and lightly tap his palm with mine, inwardly cringing. My teeth are clenched. “Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat. He inspects his palm, then wipes it on his pants. I must’ve left some sticky residue on his hand. At least the interaction wasn’t a total waste.

Those who invest their time are fortunate enough to thrive in my presence. Those who don’t are one less person annoying me.

“If you’re accepting feedback, Kirsten, your announcer voice was a little too perky today,” I say. “Thanks! But I’m actually not accepting sexist feedback at this time,” Kirsten says.

If it has to do with love, I’m not emotionally ready yet. How could I add color to a heart when mine is jet-black?

I wonder when my life will be touched by even just a piece of the beauty I put into my paintings, or when my life will be worth hanging on the wall for people to admire.

Oh boy. Ouch. Same.

“I was just with a friend.” “A boy friend or girl friend?” “Boy.” “A boy you kiss or a boy you play video games with?” Good question. In my ideal world, a boy I could kiss while playing video games would be a dream.

I have a new crush on a boy. Someone send help.

After we finished, he said, “I’m not looking for anything serious. Just so you know.” I thought it was the weirdest response to a make-out session ever. Like, Chill, I don’t want to marry you either. But I appreciated his honesty, and we went our separate ways.

Ms. Gurbsterter.

I'm so sorry. Who?

He smiles. And I can’t not smile back at his smile.

“Are you talking about alcohol?” Jordan asks. “No, crystal meth. You in?” Perry asks.

“You guys do know there are parts of Arizona that get snow and stuff?” Jordan questions. “We also have an NHL team.”

Make this a hockey romance, you coward! I dare you!

It happened in eighth grade right after I evolved from cute, closeted, gay Charmander to openly out and brooding gay Charmeleon.

He laughs and shakes his head. His orange eyes morph back to their natural shade of dark brown. “What?” I ask. “You’re entirely overwhelming and completely calming all at the same time. I thought you didn’t have powers.”

wonder where our date will be? And he called it a date. Every time I hang out with him my heart feels a little fuller.

This got me thinking that one ingredient for love might be when the person you are with starts loving the people in your life who came before them.

I’m most afraid of love becoming a routine. A word that’s just said to people you’re supposed to be close with.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask. He nods. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” “I want,” he whispers, nodding like a puppy with his lips slightly parted.

I don’t know why we mock people who want to be with the person they love. We say things like, “Doubt it will last” and “It’s cute for now.” But I think when it’s real, it will always last—whether you are together or not. Even if it just lasts as a memory. It’s still something.

Jordan and I were each part of a story, a hug, a kiss, and a friendship. None of those things can exist without the other part. When you lose that many parts of yourself, it hurts. And when you realize those parts are irreplaceable, you become lost too.

There’s no complex explanation for love, like I thought. It happens unexpectedly, just like how Jordan walked into Dairy Queen tonight. You’re never ready for it. You can’t be. There’s no way to see it coming.

Flames and floating are pretty cool, but there’s no superpower more profound than being yourself and making someone fall in love with you.