All the Possible Trajectories of a Frozen Brownie

Sometimes the weirdest things can spark a memory. A little while ago, I just started the biannual-once-in-a-blue-moon-leap-day cleaning of my room and I came across a wadded up white bakery sack. Now you might say, "But Howard, (which would be super-strange, because I haven't introduced myself yet) how can a crummy old cupcake wrapper bring back memories?" Well, to make a short story terribly long…

I guess it was while Tommy Whitzberger was playing his rendition of "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" on the accordion that I found out DeeAnn Smith liked me. I had just gotten off the stage where I'd performed a dazzling magic act for the 6th-grade talent show at our elementary school. Looking around, I finally found a seat in the audience, so I could watch the rest of the acts.

Mrs. McIntyre, my homeroom teacher, was the emcee. She came on stage, clapping and said, "That was 'The Great Howard' and his wonderful magic act. Good job, Howard."

I know, it's a horrible stage name, but I wasn't able to think up anything else. My full name is Howard Arness Zookalski. Try to get something magical out of that.

Anyway, I happened to sit next to Misty Oppenheimer, the school blabbermouth and, fortunately for me, one of DeeAnn's friends. She told me that DeeAnn told her that she thought I was kinda cute, but not to tell anybody, especially me, which is, of course, the one thing you never tell the Misty Oppenheimer, but I guess DeeAnn hadn't learned that at the time.

She thought I was kinda cute, huh? Well, needless to say, I felt… dizzy. And my face flushed and my vision blurred. After the talent show, I went to one of the school restrooms and looked in the mirror. I was sure I'd contracted a disease. One that flares up when someone tells you you're cute, you immediately start to turn ugly. I had yet to learn there is such a thing, it's called puberty.

The thought of a girl being remotely attracted to me didn't occur to me at all. I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified. I was happy because as far I as knew, this was the first time anyone had expressed an interest in me and it terrified me because I did not want to screw this up, and if my life up to that point was any indication, there was a very good chance of that happening. I don't think the words 'paralyzed with fear' would be too far from what I was feeling. I had been on this planet for almost 12 years now and this was my first. Who knows when the next one was going to come around.

When she stopped by my house after school to say again, how much she enjoyed the magic show, the gray brain cells that processed this sort of thing came alive for the first time and wondered what the hell was going on. After she left and I closed the door, they clumsily lurched into action. The first thought was realizing that sometimes DeeAnn came by my house on the way home from school to her house. Then, these limp barely-used ganglia and neurons thought it would be a good idea to get her something. I went to the corner market. Flowers were too expensive on my lunch money budget and cards were too schmaltzy for my preteen stunted idea of romance. The Bakery! After scanning the displays, I settled on a brownie and to make it extra special, I had her name written on it with pink frosting. I have no idea why I thought this was significant. Like she was going to look at the brownie I would give her and wonder, "But is this for me? I don't know, it doesn't have my name on it." I was such a thoughtful, sweet, awkward, stuttering, sweating bucket of quivering nerves. What could possibly go wrong?

So, since she passed by my house infrequently, I put the brownie in the freezer, so that it wouldn't go bad. Weeks went by as my after-school-vigil-of-looking-for-DeeAnn continued. I was getting tired, my eyes were getting sore and my brownie was getting frostbite. Then suddenly, there she was.

I ran to the fridge, grabbed the brownie, sped to the front door and yelled, "DeeAnn!!" She stopped, turned around and smiled. And then everything moved in slow motion.

I wondered if she still liked me. I wondered if this had all been a joke. I wondered if perhaps she was allergic to brownies. I wondered if she was on a diet and then she was going to be offended and how dare I get her a dessert. All these fearful 'what-if' scenarios went through my head, and I panicked.

So…I hurled a dense completely frozen brownie at the only girl who had, up to that time, had expressed an interest in me and slammed the door.

Because. That makes perfect sense.

I put my head in my hands. How could I be so stupid? What did I just do? Why did I do that anyway? I'm such a moron. She is probably NOT enjoying her brownie and basking in the knowledge of what a fine and sweet young man I am. She's probably suffering a concussion, lying unconscious on my lawn, bleeding out as her friend who was walking with her screams with horror about the maniac who just beaned her friend with a frozen dessert.

All of this was interrupted by a knock on the door. Was it DeeAnn? Was it her friend? Was it the police? I slowly opened the door and…it was DeeAnn.

I inexplicably feigned surprise ("oh…DeeAnn. What are you doing here?"). DeeAnn wanted to thank me for the gift as she ate (okay, sucked on) her frozen brownie. I said, no problem.

And that was it. That's as far as it went. The next year was junior high, which was its own kind of hell and DeeAnn went the way of every other girl who's had refrigerated rock-hard confections thrown at them.

Therapy.