• So you pass by a girl at school. And your first thought is “Who is this girl?” You don’t hesitate to say it out loud. You’re probably justified, considering the way she looks. She’s wearing too much makeup – Avril Lavigne-style eyeliner, dark red eyeshadow, ruby lipstick, glitter blush. And then there’s her outfit – skinny jeans, converse, a black tunic top that’s falling off her shoulders, a brown belt more suited for a businessman, a red tie, a mood ring necklace, and a red headband. As you watch her closer, you notice – wow, this girl’s a punk – double pierced ears with dangerous looking earrings. Most likely she’ll get more piercings, and you’re surprised that her eyebrow or lip or nose isn’t pierced. It will be one day. She has the most wild fashion of anybody at the school, just…Gothic.

    But there’s the way she looks physically, without the makeup. Short, dark brown hair, insanely blue eyes, pale skin, baby-faced, European. About 5’3”, and if you tease her about her height you’re in for hell. She’s almost 14…almost, but acts more mature than most people her age. If you were to ask her what her ethnicity was, she’d say “Scottish, Native American, Irish.” But you’ve heard her talk, and it’s weird – speed talking like a Yankee with a Texan accent. And she can sing at least 9 different octaves, from tenor to the highest note of first soprano.

    You know what she likes, to an extent. The Twilight Saga, House, all genres of Rock, reading, drawing. You know that she has a temper like dynamite, and one just as short as the fuse on said dynamite. You know that when she gets mad she is more dangerous than a nuclear war. You know that she is annoyed by most of the population of the world, but loves her friends more than anything. In fact, she calls some of them her children. You know she has a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. You know that if she has sugar or caffeine, her ADD meds have no effect on her and she goes off the wall. You know she’s more intelligent than most and doesn’t mind flaunting this.

    You know she has a massive group of friends, that most classify as Emo, Punk, Goth, Scene, Skater, et cetera. But you can’t classify her. She doesn’t fit into the stereotypes. You know she has a boyfriend, and that they love each other more than anything. Both will do anything for the other, but they know their limits. They’re smart.

    She can’t walk in a straight line without tripping; she’s klutzy. Any sport aside from dodgeball – because it can be used as a weapon – and baseball – because she’s freakishly good at it – can cause major damage to her and other people. She runs like an Olympic sprinter when necessary but can be lazy as anything.

    It’s at this point when she catches up with her crowd. Her boyfriend comes up behind her and hugs her, and her friends begin chatting earnestly.

    You sit back and watch. You had your chance to know her better, but you didn’t take it. And you’ve regretted it ever since.

    It’s at this point when she sees you watching and gives her typical half smile, waving. You wave back, then walk away.

    It’s too late to love her.