It's the day of the nine times table test. The snickering subsides as I flick the ring box closed. I quickly exchange it for a pencil and face the board. Third grade would not be my year.
Two years later, the electricity between our hands in the cinema was a gift from Zeus himself. She is Fiona, and I am Shrek. The world is at peace.
Every summer day I wait to hear from the lightning-bringer. No calls, no letters, no emails. Every day I try again. Nothing.
It's the end of August. I open Neopets — Inbox 99+. Peace evaporates. Sixth grade would not be my year.