Дэвид Левитан: Boy Meets Boy

He turns to me instead.

"You find your boyfriend yet?" he asks.

Panicked, I look around to see if Noah is in the immediate vicinity. Luckily, he is not.

I am starting to wonder if he actually exists.

The principal's secretary gets up to the microphone to start the rally. Everybody knows that she wields the real power in the school, so it makes sense to have her leading things here.

The gymnasium doors open and the cheerleaders come riding in on their Harleys. The crowd goes wild.

We are, I believe, the .only high school in America with a biker cheerleading team. But I could be wrong. A few years ago, it was decided that having a posse of motorcycles gun around the fields and courts was a much bigger cheer-inducer than any pom-pom routine could ever hope to be. Now, in an intricately choreographed display, the Harleys swerve around the gym, starting off in a pyramid the shape of a bird migration, then splitting up into spins and corners. For a finale, the cheerleaders rev all at once and shoot themselves off a ramp emblazoned with our high school's name. They are rewarded with massive applause.

Already the rally is doing its job. I am proud to be a student at my high school.

The tennis team is the next up. My brother and his friend Mara are the doubles champions, so they get a pretty good reception. I try to cheer loudly so Jay can hear my voice above the crowd. He's a senior now, and I know he's started to feel sad about everything coming to an end. Next year, he'll be on a college tennis team. It won't be the same.

After the tennis team has been cheered, our school cover band comes out to play. The cover band's stats are actually better than the tennis team's — at this past year's Dave Matthews Cover Band Competition, they went all the way to the finals with their cover of the Dave Matthews Band covering "All Along the Watchtower," only to be defeated by a cover band that played "Typical Situation" while standing on their heads. Now they launch into a cover of "One Day More" from Les Miserables,and I admire the lead singer's versatility.

After an encore of Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus," the principal's secretary asks for quiet and introduces this year's homecoming king and queen. Infinite Darlene strides out in a pink ball gown, covered in part by her quarterback jersey. The homecoming king, Dave Sprat, hangs from her arm, a good thirteen inches shorter than her (if you count the heels).

Infinite Darlene is holding a portable microphone we borrowed from Zeke's van, so she can introduce and march at the same time. As the school cover band strikes up a skacore version of "We Are the Champions" (we're not entirely without tradition), the members of the football team line up for their presentation.

I lean over to Joni. She's fixing her eyes on Chuck.

I honestly don't know why. Chuck is the second-string quarterback who fell for Infinite Darlene and got all upset when she didn't return his affections. He was real bitter about it, worse than Ted in his fouler moods. Ted, at least, is able to lose his cool without totally losing his sense of humor. I'm not sure that Chuck's the same way. I wish Tony went to our school, so I could lift my eyebrow and get his take on the situation.

Ted doesn't seem to notice where Joni's glance is taking her. He is looking elsewhere.

"Is that him?" he asks.

Because he's Ted, he goes right ahead and points at someone in the stands across the gymnasium. I squint to make out the faces from the crowd. At first, I think he's pointing at Kyle, who is somewhat subdued in his applause for the football players as Infinite Darlene introduces them. Then I realize Ted is pointing a few rows up.

I see an empty seat. Then, next to it, I see Noah.

He senses me looking. I swear. He looks right at me.

Or maybe he's looking at Ted, who's still pointing.

"Put your finger down,"I say between gritted teeth.

"Chill," Ted tells me, moving his finger through the air, as if he hadn't been pointing at Noah at all. I try to play along.

When the whole pointing charade is over, I see that Noah's still where he was a second ago. I don't know why I thought he would have disappeared. I guess I don't believe these things can ever be easy, although I also don't see why they have to be hard.

Joni's broken her attention from Chuck for long enough to get what's going on.

"Don't just sit here," she says.

"If you don't go over there, I will — and I'll tell him all about your crush," Ted informs me.

I'm not sure if he's kidding or not.

It's a mighty thin border between peer pressure and bravery. Knowing that Joni and Ted aren't going to let me get out of it, I head to Noah's side of the gym. One of the teachers shoots me a stay-in-your-seat glance, but I wave her off. Over the loudspeakers, I can hear Infinite Darlene's crystal voice: "And now, introducing the quarterback . . . the one . . . the only . . .

ME!"

I look at the crowd. Everyone cheers, except for some of the more elitist drag queens, who feign disinterest.

I duck behind the bleachers, weaving to the stairs. I wonder what I'll say. I wonder if I'm about to make a fool of myself.

All I can feel is this intensity. My mind beating in time with my heart. My steps keeping sway with my hopes.

I get to the bottom of the stands. I've lost track of the space. I can't find Noah. I look back to Joni and Ted. Much to my mortification, they both point me on my way. The football presentation is over and the quiz bowling team is preparing to enter. Infinite Darlene is basking in her last round of applause. I swear she winks when she looks my way.

I focus on the seat next to Noah. I do not focus on his crazy-cool hair, or his blue suede shoes, or the specks of paint on his hands and his arms.

I am beside him.

"Is this seat taken?" I ask.

He looks up at me. And then, after a beat, he breaks out smiling.

"Hey," he says, "I've been looking all over for you."

I don't know what to say. I am so happy and so scared.

There is a roar through the stands as the quiz bowling team is announced. They come sprinting onto the court, rolling for pins while answering questions about Einstein's theory of relativity.

"I've been looking for you, too," I say at last.

He says, "Cool," and it's cool. So cool.

I sit down next to him as the audience cheers for the captain of the quiz bowling team, who's just scored a strike while listing the complete works of the Bronte sisters.

I don't want to scare him by telling him all the things that are scaring me. I don't want him to know how important this is. He has to feel the importance for himself.

So I say, "Those are cool shoes," and we talk about blue suede shoes and the duds store where he shops. We talk as the badminton team lets its birdies fly. We talk as the French Cuisine Club rises the perfect soufflé. We laugh when it falls.

I am looking for signs that he understands me. I am looking for my hopes to be confirmed.

"This is such serendipity, isn't it?" he asks. I almost fall off my seat. I am a firm believer in serendipity—all the random pieces coming together in one wonderful moment, when suddenly you see what their purpose was all along.

We talk about music and find that we like the same kinds of music. We talk about movies and find that we like the same kinds of movies.

"Do you really exist?" I blurt out.

"Not at all," he says with a smile. "I've known that since I was four."

"What happened when you were four?"

"Well, I had this theory. Although I guess I was too young to know it was a theory. You see, I had this imaginary friend. She followed me everywhere—we had to set a place for her at the table, she and I talked all the time—the whole deal. Then it occurred to me that she wasn't the imaginary friend at all. I figured that I was the imaginary friend, and she was the one who was real. It made perfect sense to me. My parents disagreed, but I still secretly feel that I'm right."