Satellite: The Satellite Trilogy, Part I

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Authors: Lee Davidson
their sockets.
    I was all-out grinning now. “Yeah, but I had you.”
    Unexpectedly, she punched my arm, and I detected a momentary crack in her resistance. “Not funny,” she said, looking past me to the building. “I’ve got to get in there. Thanks for doing this. Seriously. Let me know what I owe you, and I’ll take care of it right away.”
    She started to jog away, but I didn’t want her to go yet. “Have dinner with me!” I yelled across the lot, not exactly sure what I was doing.
    She was almost to the glass doors, but she stopped and turned. “What?”
    “Have dinner with me!” I yelled again, like she’d want anything to do with a carpenter who was more than a little rough around the edges. I couldn’t even ask a girl out properly. Clearly, I had lost my mind.
    “I don’t even know you!”
    “Get to know me during dinner.” A million things were going through my mind, with imbecile gracing the top of the list.
    “I have to go,” she said, shaking her head. “You have my number. Call me with the costs.”
    When she disappeared into the building, it took everything I had not to follow her inside. She may have been onto something with the stalker thing.
    The next day, I waited outside of Physics. Without the luxury of time, I had to get right to the point.
    “Have dinner with me,” I blurted out when she passed by.
    “Did you hit your head in the accident?” she asked pointedly, then continued walking.
    Probably. “Maybe. So, how about it?” I doggedly followed her down the hall.
    “You have lost your mind,” she said, and then she left me staring like a fool into the Communications classroom while she settled in her seat. I could have used that class right about then.
    On Wednesday, I proved my persistence once more. Well, my stalker tendencies, anyway. “Have dinner with me,” I said, cutting her off in the hallway.
    “Why won’t you let it go?” she asked, exasperated.
    Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I want you to see that I’m not a complete jerk. Take your pick. “Come on, I’m not that bad, am I?” I mockingly smelled my armpits.
    She looked at me with a mix of curiosity and disgust, like I was a new species of rodent she’d never seen.
    I folded my hands together in supplication. “Pleeeaaase?” I gave her what I thought was a persuasive expression, but it’s more likely that I appeared to be in pain.
    She blushed. “I have to warn you, I’m probably the most uninteresting person you’ll ever meet.”
    The first bell rang loudly, but that wasn’t why my heart skipped a beat. “Is that a yes?” I blurted out.
    She paused for so long that I thought I was going to explode.
    “When?” she finally said.
    “Friday,” I answered, before she even finished. Nothing like coming across as desperate.
    She shook her head. “Can’t. I have to work.”
    “Saturday, then?”
    “Fine.” She was probably only agreeing so I would leave her alone. “Pick me up at six.”
    A sudden thought seized me. Crap! Crap, crap, crap! “All right,” was all I could say.
    “Do you have my address?”
    I swallowed, hoping to relieve my dry mouth. “It was with your insurance information.”
    “Oh, OK. I guess I’ll see you then.”
    When she disappeared around the corner, I raced to Calculus, receiving a slew of funny looks along the way. I yelled an apology to Coach Neal after almost knocking him down.
    Again…crap! Why had I picked Saturday? The foundation pour was going to take all day. Even if things ran smoothly, which they never did, we wouldn’t be done until five thirty. But Tate had said yes. To me . No way was I going to change plans and risk her coming to her senses.
    Just as I figured, my dad was not understanding about my date. The Cliffs Notes’ version was this: when given a choice between making money and spending it…well, one guess which side of the fence he was on.
    When Saturday came, we were surprisingly moving ahead of schedule, and by

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