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Ignoring him, I say, “The object of my affection . . . Miss Gibson.” I wait as the entire class explodes with shrieks and clapping.
I’m about to ask another question when the door to the classroom bursts open. A gust of wind blows in and Arlo stands in the doorway, wearing a white cotton button-up, brown jeans, and an overcoat. The shirt is open, a fan blows behind him, impersonating wind, and he stands there, proud.
I look up at him, and our foreheads move in, touching, our noses move closer, and then . . . The bell sounds off, signaling the end of class. Collectively, everyone shouts, “Nooooooo.” Chuckie, in the nightgown still, for God knows what reason, says, “Kiss, kiss, kiss.” Laughing, I glance up at Arlo, and he cups my chin. Everyone joins in the chant and before I can decide what to do, Arlo presses his mouth against mine.
Christmas is in two weeks, and Coraline and I already have one hell of a holiday party planned, as well as Christmas morning. A special Christmas morning. One that involves a sparkly item, and this one is not for Coraline.