Hi My Name Is Carli

"Why is your hair so short?"

Chapter Two

Carli

Monday, September 3^{rd ,} the first day of school.

The second period bell rang loudly signaling the end of class. I made a short dash to Coach Randle’s Geometry class.

What I saw as I entered the class set aback a bit.

There she was, her glorious red hair, bright glimmering eyes, and an infectious smile that ran clean ran across her multi freckled face.

Fate had dealt it's first blow.

It was the girl with the short red hair.

She, as fate would have it, was in my...yes, MY geometry class. How could this be?

Of all the probabilities probable, this one came up.

Coach Randle was standing at the doorway welcoming students into his class. He shook everybody’s hand as we passed through the door ensuring each and every one of us how happy he was WE were in his classroom.

Looking at him you wouldn't guess he was a football coach.

He was not tall, nor overly masculine, but he was fit in all the other ways. I doubt there was an ounce of fat on the man.

During his days as a college track star he was nationally ranked as a sprinter, or at least that's what we believed. The man was fast.

Along with being my geometry teacher, he was also my football, cross country, and track coach.

He never smoked, drank, or used profane language, at least, not that any of us were aware.

He was mild mannered and easy going. It had a calming affect on all of us. To me, coach represented all things that were right and good in a world gone mad.

I tried emulating this man after I left school.

But, just like there was one Sandra Dee, there was also only one Coach Randle.

He, like many math teachers, demanded structure in his room. It explained the alphabetical seating chart he had prepared.

Standing at the front of the class, he looked down and read out the seating chart.

Wouldn’t you know it, the girl with the short red hair and boyish looks was seated right in front of me?

She and those trillion freckles, crystalline blue eyes, and other assorted freakishly odd features; sitting right in front of me.

Here, my friends, was yet another of the trillion-to- one percent probability factors that just didn't make sense to me.

So there she was; in front of me.

I tried not paying too much attention to her.

I didn't get her name, not that I actually cared.

Well...maybe a small part of me wanted to know, but, well, I figured I'd find out soon enough.

I wasn't wrong.

Turning around in her seat and facing me, she boldly announced,

“My name is Carli; Carli McBride."

“So,” I said, as if it didn't matter to me what her name was.

“So,” she replied, “we’ve met before… well, not really met, I don’t suppose, but we have seen each other once.”

I looked at her, pretending to have forgotten the entire horrifying incident.

“I hardly think so,” I said, sneering at her disdainfully.

“Oh yes we have,” she insisted, “at the corner.

You remember. I saw you look at me. You were riding your little motorcycle? You looked and smiled. Remember?”

Darn that smile.

I frowned at her and smirked,

“I don't think so. I would remember that goofy, red hair of yours?"

I grinned at her and said,

"Why do you wear it like that anyway? Do you realize it makes you look like a boy?”

She glanced at me with a hurtful look on her face. She was about to start crying.

Glaring at me, she responded,

“There’s a good reason why it’s so short, you…you dope.”

She spun around and put her head on her desk.

And just like that, a relationship was forged.

I got the strangest feeling as I stared at her backside.

I felt a strong need to apologize, as guilt began to fill my insides

I don't know why, but I did.

I tapped her on the shoulder and said,

“Hey Carli, I'm sorry for being such a jerk.

It’s really not all that bad you know.

Why is it so short, anyway?”

She turned back around and replied,

“Well..." she said semisobbing,

"I was going to become a nun, that is... until…until.”

She paused and didn't finish her thought.

“Until what?” I asked.

“Until… until... until I decided not to, that’s when until.”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned back around, still apparently upset.

Not knowing what else to say I mumbled,

“Oh.”

After a few moments of insightful thinking, which for me was a rarity, I tapped her on her shoulder again and said,

“Hey ‘RED’, about your hair, since you’re not going to be a nun anymore, maybe you could let it grow out longer.

Who knows, maybe you won’t even look like a boy anymore.”

She turned around again, and grinned,

“Thanks a lot...dope” she giggled, "yes, you're still a dope."

"No I'm not," I replied, "I'm Mark, Mark Miller."

She smiled, and giggled again.

Coach began calling role to make sure everyone had found their place.

“McBride,”

“Here,” she squeaked.

“Miller,”

“Here sir,” I answered.

And so a strange and unusual friendship had begun. It was sure to test the entire gamut of all our human emotions. I look back on that day from time to time and realize it was the day my life was changed forever.

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

'Hi My Name is Carli
M.E.Lyle,
This was a lovely jaunt back in time when emotion was close to the surface, character forming and need so great but much of the time hidden. I saw these things in your red haired girl and the boy looking for is place. Cute too the way you weave the character into your characters. They have ideas of there own and want to figure out their own niche. Feels like Junior High School. Smiled my way through this one.
Blessings,
Kathy

[Larry Dyson]

like this...reminds me of a few young ladies I met in grammer school..certainly would remember the red hair and freckles..one you coundnot count her freckles too many..