Marcy.

The bell rang, time for class. Marcela and I walked side by side making our ways to our respective periods. She to Math, me to Freshman Biology. As we walked the halls my eyes caught his, piercing and chocolate brown. I felt tingles go down my spine.

“I wonder who he is.” I thought out loud.

“Cesar, he’s in my Math class. He plays basketball, football too, so we’ll be seeing a lot of him.” Marcela and I were JV cheerleaders; it was our first year cheering in high school. I absolutely loved it, Marcy tolerated it. In a moment of weakness she had agreed to join our middle school’s cheerleading squad with me, and now a year later, was sticking it out. She has always been a loyal friend.

I threw a side look and said “Don’t go open your big mouth and tell him I asked about him, I know how you operate.” She gave me her best whatever-do-you-mean glance and waved as she found her class…

Sitting comfortably at our picnic table, Marcy walked towards me, lunch in hand. Just before taking a seat she informed me, “Oops, so I slipped and told Cesar about you.”

Oh no. My stomach was in knots. “What did you say?!” Teenage squeak revealing my anxiety.

“That you want to have his babies.” My horrified look must have made feel guilty because she immediately corrected herself. “Kidding! I told him my best friend’s birthday party is this weekend, and that he should come because it’s going to be great…and that your name is Carol…and that you think he’s cute.” No she didn’t. My cheeks were officially tomato red.

“Marcy! I’m so embarrassed, what’s he going to think?” Do you remember being 13? You know, back when someone knowing you thought they’re cute made you blush? Oh innocence!

“Speaking of el rey de Roma, he’s about to walk by.” El rey de Roma is the Spanish expression for “speak of the devil”, loosely translated it means “to speak of the King of Rome”. I always wondered why Rome, but I digress.

His chocolate eyes stared right at me, and his luscious lips curled into a smile. I was in trouble and I knew it, completely smitten without even exchanging a word. That should have been my first clue; I was in way over my head. The next four years would confirm that.

I smiled back, hints of pink greeting my face. I couldn’t wait to see him again.

Marcy is part of most of my memories; she’s more of a sister than a friend. To say that I love her is putting my affections for this woman lightly — she is of the upmost importance to me. I can’t wait to give her a big hug this Sunday and thank her, once again, for being one of my rocks.

For looking out and sometimes taking action for me, when I’m too stubborn or shy to take a risk.

And yes, even for embarrasing me. She definitely keeps things interesting!