Writing with Dove Feathers

Wilbur first met Jean Tate because she sat directly behind him in Spanish class.  She had long brown hair, often up in a bun when the sun was out, long tan legs and a beauty mark just under her right eye; She was a big fan of high-waisted pants and shirts that slightly exposed her middle if she stretched. Jean always had something funny to say to him whenever they were in a pair or group for a class assignment, almost like she had rehearsed her lines in the mirror before school. She laughed at most of his jokes, too. Their conversations never carried after class. He’d spot her in the hallways and Jean was in his gym period, though they rarely interacted there.

A month into the school year, just as the weather started getting too cold to walk around without a jacket on, Jean began saying hello to Wilbur every time she saw him. Two weeks after that, she would strike up a conversation every time they made eye contact. At lunch one day, Jean stopped by his table, carrying a tray with a salad perched precariously on it. “Hi, Wilbur!” She beamed at him with the kind of smile you would give for a professional photographer.

Wilbur wished she hadn’t come up to him while he was working on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and had to awkwardly finish his mouthful before speaking. “Hi.” He said, his voice thick from the peanut butter. He chanced a quick glanced to his two best friends who were sitting next to him, George and Angela, before returning his attention to Jean.

“I was wondering what your favorite music is?”

“Good music, mostly…but genre-wise, I like jazz a lot.”

“Oh man! I love jazz, too! My favorite artist is Langston Hughes. He is so great on the saxophone, don’t you think?”

Wilbur almost choked on his own spit. He briefly debated correcting Jean, but he really didn’t want to embarrass her in front of his friends. “Uh…same?” was the only response he could manage.

Jean looked satisfied with Wilbur. “Awesome. Well, I gotta go sit down. My friends are calling me. ¡Hasta la vista!”

She was gone before Wilbur could ask her why she asked in the first place. He glanced between George and Angela. “So…are you going to ask her out or will she ask you out first?” Angela asked. Her lips were curled up in a wicked schemer’s smile.

“What are you talking about?”

“She totally likes you, Wilbur.” Angela insisted through a mouthful of potatoes. “I bet you however much money I have on me right now that she just said she likes jazz because she wanted to impress you.”

Wilbur quirked an eyebrow. “You really think someone would lie to me about their musical tastes for that reason?”

Angela tsked at him. “Wilbur, anyone who has even had a passing thought that they like guys has thought about dating you.”

He heard George sigh next to him. “Don’t say things like that, Ang. You’ll inflate his ego so much, it’ll burst.”

Wilbur put his hand over his heart, pretending to look aghast. “What? My ego is very carefully maintained.”

George let out a chortle. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Wilbur elbowed George playfully, taking the opportunity to change the conversation. “Hey, don’t you have a soccer game coming up?” He asked.

“Yup. Semi-finals against Maplewood. We’re gonna get curb stomped if their record is any evidence.” George has somehow inhaled all of his food at this point and excused himself to throw out his garbage.

Angela was halfway through her potatoes, taking the conversation into a U-turn. “But anyway, George and I have a bet going to see when Jean’ll ask The Question. I say sometime this week. George says sometime this month.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows pinched together. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I know a woman in love when I see one…Or at least a woman in I Want A Boyfriend to Brag About mode. The question is, will she go for it?”

George had rejoined them at this point. “The better question is: Will you say yes, Wilbur?”

Before Wilbur could reply, Angela snorted. “Please. His full name is Wilbur ‘Heartbreaker’ Robinson. He can’t break his streak now!”

Wilbur suppressed a groan. “It’s not like I’m trying to reject everyone who asks me out. I just…haven’t found someone I like yet.”

“…So, will you reject her, Wilbur?” George asked again.

“I have no idea. I mean…Jean is a nice girl, but…I haven’t really thought about dating her.” Sometimes Wilbur wished he didn’t have to think about having to reject some girl again.

The conversation drifted to different subjects, mostly about a video game Angela had played over the weekend, but Wilbur found his mind on Jean and her potential crush. He imagined them sitting at a table at a restaurant, eating and chatting over delicious food. He imagined taking her to the movies, holding hands over the armrests. He imagined kissing her- a real kiss, unlike the one he had gotten from Tim Anderson in the fifth grade- during the fireworks show on New Year’s Eve in Todayland’s main square. He guessed it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

He spent the rest of the week turning the thoughts over in his head until Jean called to Wilbur after their Spanish class had concluded. “I was wondering if you wanted to go get some ice cream at Three Scoops?” Jean asked, smile full of teeth.

Wilbur looked around the hallway, noticing many students glancing their way. He looked back at Jean, anxiously picking at one of the spirals of her notebook. “Uh…yeah! Sure! I can go get ice cream with you!” he blurted out.

Jean’s face lit up. If she were a cartoon character, Wilbur guessed she would have stars in her eyes. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course, Jean…uh…we can meet up…at the front entrance and take the monorail?” He quickly suggested.

Jean’s face turned pretty red. “Okay!” she squeaked. “S-see you then!” Wilbur watched her bounce down the hallway to join a circle of others girls down the hallway.

By the end of the day, Wilbur stood in front of the monorail station. He had made a pit stop at the bathroom just before he left school to adjust his hair. The “date” might not be an official one, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want his hair to be a pigsty. As he waited, he scrolled through his phone’s various apps, satisfied to see no messages pestering him about this “Jean” they had spotted him with in the hallways.

But then he got a text from George: So, I heard that Jean and you are going out? Is that true or just people repeating things that they don’t know about?

Wilbur sighed. It was probably naïve of him to have even entertained the idea that people wouldn’t be gossiping up a storm. He quickly typed out a reply. jean asked me to go to three scoops after school and I said yes. shes nice and itll be fun. im only considering this as a friend thing not a dating thing for now. things are still up in the air.

Hey no judgements here, Wilbur. I’m just fact-checking. Jean does seem nice. I’m sure you’ll have a good time. I’m just surprised you even said yes.

eh its hard to say no to ice cream.

Well, have fun.

ty.

Wilbur switched conversation threads to the one he had with Carl. He needed to let someone know that he wasn’t going to be home at his normal time and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his parents directly if he could help it. hey carl. quick thing: im going to be home late because im getting ice cream with a friend. mind passing the message to mom and/or dad for me?

“Wilbur!” At the sound of his name, Wilbur yelped and almost dropped his phone. He immediately looked up. When he saw Jean smiling up at him, he relaxed.

“Oh, Jean! Hi!”

Jean covered her mouth. “Oh my god! Did I scare you? I’m so sorry!”

Wilbur shook his head. “Nah. I’m totally fine. Don’t you wor-“ A buzz from his phone cut off his sentence. “One second.”

Carl had responded: So…is “getting ice cream with a friend” code for “doing the drugs and possibly the sex”? Because that’s the vibe I’m getting… The text was followed by a GIF of Peter Fry from Futurama squinting at something off-screen.

Wilbur groaned and rapidly typed his response: no carl. there is no secret code i am very literally going to take the monorail to three scoops with a classmate to get very real very good ice cream okay?

He put his phone away and looked back up at Jean. “Sorry ‘bout that. What were you saying?”

Jean tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, uh. Right. Well.”

His phone vibrated in his back pocket. He debated on ignoring it, but if this was Carl, he knew he had to answer. He pulled out his phone again.

See. You say that, but you and I both know that if this was just a normal “going out with your friends” scenario, you would’ve told Fran and Neil directly instead of bothering with me. Not that you wouldn’t have told me anything but…My point is, what is really going on?

“Sorry I got to respond to this.” Wilbur explained as he quickly punched out a reply: look this girl basically asked me out and rumor has it that she may have a crush on me and this may or may not turn into a legit date and I really don’t want everyone all over my case about this until i know for a fact that this is a legit thing

Wilbur put his phone away again as soon as he could. “Jesus, phones really are a menace to society, huh?”

Jean blinked at Wilbur. “I guess...Anyway. Thanks for agreeing to go out with me to Three Scoops.”

Wilbur smiled. “It’s no big deal. I love ice cream.”

Soon the monorail smoothly slid into the station. Jean and Wilbur scanned their school IDs before getting on board. Wilbur chose a seat towards the back of the car where there were fewer people to bother him or take unwanted photos.

Jean, thankfully, started the conversation. “So, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Oh, jeez. That’s a tough one. I really like Rocky Road or really odd flavors like Superman. Is it weird that I sometimes choose ice cream flavors because they have creative names?”

Jean laughed. “No, not at all. I don’t like ice cream that has really bright colors, and that’s kinda weird.”

Wilbur smiled briefly at Jean. “Guess we’re both weird ice cream consumers.”

Jean’s smile was as warm as her laugh. “Guess so.”

An awkward silence passed over them. Wilbur browsed his brain, searching for something to say, only coming away with a lame So, how about that airline food? joke.

“I heard you were going to try out for the track and field team.” Jean said.

Wilbur breathed an internal sigh of relief. “Yeah! Yup, I’m trying out for it next week. I’m aiming for the 200-meter dash. You play lacrosse, right?”

Jean nodded. “Indeed, I do. The girls are pretty great. And we’re doing well in the tournament.”

“That’s great!”

Wilbur and Jean talked more about sports, moving into other topics, like music, until he got another vibration from his pocket, which was another one of Carl’s texts:

WHAT? You serious, buddy? A date? O_O O_O O_O O_O O_O

yes im serious but don’t tell mom and dad that it’s a date just tell them im with friends.

Why not?

just don’t. remember the bro code carl.

My brain is literally made of codes. No sweat.

good

Wilbur returned his phone to his pocket, continuing to feel guilty about constantly texting other people when he should be focused on Jean. “Man, trying to explain to people why you aren’t coming home right away without having them get too excited is almost impossible.”

Jean’s face turned bright red. “You told your parents about me?”

“No! No no, I didn’t. I told my…robot friend who will tell my parents…” He couldn’t see his own face, but he was pretty sure it was as red as Jean’s.

Jean narrowed her eyes at him. “Robot friend?”

“Carl. He’s one of my dad’s inventions.”

“Oh. Right. Duh.” Jean laughed, though it sounded strained. “You probably do have a lot of weird things in your house because of your dad, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea. Transport tubes, singing frogs, rocket roller skates, life size toy trains, a peanut butter jelly gun that has never worked once yet my dad still has Carl test it for some reason.”

“Wait…what the heck is a peanut butter jelly gun?”

“It’s supposed to help you make the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich by squirting both the peanut butter and the jelly onto the bread evenly. But all it ever really does it make a huge sticky mess because it gets jammed all the time.”

“Wow, your folks sound crazy. The only crazy thing about my family is that I have five siblings.”

Wilbur gawked at her. “Five?”

“Three older brothers, two younger sisters. We’re like some bizarre version of the Brady Bunch.”

The intercom announced their arrival at the Downtown station, the signal for Wilbur and Jean to exit. As they walked to the ice cream parlor, they continued to chat about family. A warm breeze whistled down the street, Jean explaining how her house has felt emptier now that some of her siblings are off to college, though she likes the space.

Three Scoops had rolling pastel pink hills on its walls, with faint neon tubes tracing out the curves of color. The tables were circular with cushioned metal stools and a handful of booths along the wall opposite the ice cream case. A chalkboard against the back wall behind the display case listed the flavors in scratchy uppercase. Wilbur’s eyes were drawn to the tubs of flavors, each label color coordinated with the flavor it labelled. He heard Jean order herself a double scoop of coconut cream in a waffle cone. Wilbur juggled the flavors in his head: Graham Central Station was too creative of a name to pass up, but Garbage Can also sounded promising…He could go more conventional, like Strawberry or maybe indulge in his five-year-old self by getting Cotton Candy.

“Are you ready to order?” the slightly bored monotone of the server drew Wilbur out of his head. He looked up at the man- a tall college-aged kid with a barely-there mustache.

“Yeah, I’ll have a scoop of Chocolate and a scoop of Graham Central Station.” He said. “In a sprinkle cone.”

Ice cream in hand and payment made (Wilbur and Jean agreed to pay for their ice cream individually), they slid into an empty booth. Aside from a couple and their child and a lone woman in the back, Three Scoops was fairly empty. Wilbur licked at his ice cream, satisfied with the chocolate and graham cracker combination. “How is your cone?”

“Awesome.” Jean said. “Yours?”

“Also, awesome.” Wilbur said. He sucked at one of the scoops, pulling away chocolate.

They ate in relative silence, considering speed was important. At one point, Jean gave her cone to Wilbur for a second in order to get them napkins, as their ice cream started to drip from the cones.

“Do you want a taste of my cone?” he asked, offering his ice cream to Jean.

Jean stared at him, blushing before bursting into laughter.

Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “Uh…what did I say?”

It took a moment for Jean to respond through her laughter. “My, my, Wilbur. At least have the decency to take me to your home first.”

It took even longer for Wilbur to connect the dots, but once he did, he spluttered. “That’s not what I meant! I was…I was talking about my ice cream cone!”

“I’m just teasing you, Wilbur.” Jean took the cone from Wilbur and handed him hers in exchange. She licked at the ice cream and hummed. “You’re right. The graham cracker and chocolate combo is nice!”

Wilbur smiled. “The coconut is really good, too.” He said, handing the ice cream back to Jean.

After they finished their ice cream, Jean and Wilbur took a leisurely stroll, electing for the long way to the monorail station. While they chatted, Wilbur took in Jean’s bright smile. He agreed with her that the most recent Marvel superhero movie that had come out was really good, but the video-game adaptation that Wilbur saw over the weekend at home was only okay. Jean wasn’t interested in comic books, but she knew a lot about them because one of her older sisters read them a lot. Wilbur didn’t know much about sports in the televised sense, but he related to her frustrations with her favorite baseball team not making this year’s playoffs.

After they got under the wave-like awning of the Downtown monorail stop and got comfortable on one of the benches, Wilbur asked. “So, how did you like this date?”

He only realized what he had implied until he saw Jean’s face turn into a tomato. “I mean, that is…unless you didn’t think of this as a date. Like…you know this might’ve been more like a date with a friend or-“

“I liked it a lot, Wilbur.” Jean beamed up at him. She reached out and gently took his hand. “I think we get along well.”

Wilbur stared down at the hand in his. Her nails were painted in a tiny zigzag pattern with different shades of green. Her fingers were slender. “I think so, too.” he looked back up at Jean and squeezed her hand in affirmation.

Wilbur expected Jean to drop his hand once the monorail pulled up, but Jean pulled him up and lead him into one of the car, hand still in his. Their hands stayed that way until Jean’s monorail stop came up. “Thanks again, Wilbur. I had a great time.” She said as she was getting up.

Wilbur got up with her. “Yeah! This was a lot of fun. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

Jean nodded. “Yup. Adiós!” Before she left, she placed a quick kiss on Wilbur’s cheek.  “Hasta mañana!”

Wilbur was a statue for a few good seconds after she left, only moving too slowly touch the cheek that had been kissed. It took even longer to remember what hasta mañana meant. As he walked the short distance from the monorail stop and his house, his head was full of Jean and her warm eyes and her warm kiss.

Lefty was absent from his butler duty, meaning that the Robinsons were still having dinner. Maybe he could swipe some food from the kitchen without getting barraged with questions.

He took the transport tube to the kitchen, which spat him out just outside the doorway. Wilbur grabbed himself some leftover meatloaf and a can of Diet Coke once he got to the fridge. Unfortunately, to get to the safety of his room, he had to walk past the dining halls’ entrance. (No way in hell was he going to take a transport tube out with food in hand.) Conversation sounds were still bubbling in the dining room, so the family was at least distracted. He tiptoed past the doorway-

“Wilbur!”

He froze, looking into the dining hall. All 49 eyeballs of the Robinson family were on him.

“Hey, everyone! Sorry I’m late. I, uh…just got back from a nonessential gathering with peers.” He continued sliding towards his door. “And since I already had some ice cream, I’m full so I’m gonna just get going-“

“Wait! You have to tell us all what happened at Three Scoops!” Gaston said, meatloaf tumbling from his lips.

“Do you have to have three scoop of ice cream if you go there? I only like two, otherwise it all melts.”

“That’s just the name of the ice cream parlor, Bud.”

“Oh…Well, shame on them for enforcing ice cream scoop amounts!”

“I heard that there may have been a lady friend with Wilbur.”

“Or guy friend.”

“Mmm…I’m feeling lady friend.”

“Guy.”

“Lady”

“Guy!”

“Lady!”

“I swear if someone doesn’t pass me the gravy, I’ll give half of you splinters!”

“Sorry, Petunia. The train was jammed.”

Wilbur sighed. “It was fine. Just a nice snack with a friend of mine from Spanish class. No biggie.”

Art raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been around the dating block to know when a young lad has found someone he wants to court. You have that look in your eyes, Wilbur.”

"No! No…She’s just a friend! I swear. It…It wasn’t even a proper date, guys. Trust me.”

“But it could have been a proper date?” Franny asked, her eyes sparkling.

“…Theoretically?”

“Oh, my baby boy is growing up!” Franny leaned against Cornelius. “He theoretically went on his first date!”

Cornelius smiled down at Franny and looked up at Wilbur from across the room. “Theories are the basis of experiments.”

Wilbur huffed. “Glad you all approve. Can I go now?”

At Cornelius’s nod, Wilbur leaped towards his bedroom and shut the door before anyone could get a word in edgewise. For the rest of the evening, he worked on homework and nibbled on his food, only leaving his room to return his dirty dishes to the kitchen. Carl came in at one point, profusely apologizing for not being able to keep the details of Wilbur’s excursion a secret from his parents, but Wilbur easily forgave him. He knew that Carl caved given the proper circumstances.

Just as Wilbur started pulling on his pajamas, his phone beeped at him.

FIRST OF ALL, gotta thank you for making it so that george owes me 10 dollars. I am forever grateful. 2nd order of beeswax: did you get jeans number? or nah.

that would be a nah she did kiss me on the cheek, though….

oooOOOOoooo! Shits getting hot in here. Before you know it you two might start sucking face in the middle of the hallway

._.

Don’t give me that emoji. We both know its just a matter of time

i mean…i don’t really know? nothings official yet we might not even be going out

Her lacrosse team seems to think you guys are. Lindsey was texting me all about it my god can that girl type. Personally I think shes just happy to be within Wilbur Robinsons Inner Circle by association but that’s just me.

you make it sound like im some elitist asshole

You know what I mean wil! Anywhoot, keep me updated on this whole jean thing im happy for ya!

thanks angela

No prob. Catch ya later!

Once his phone’s screen saver left him in the dark, Wilbur thought back to Angela’s texts. He didn’t want to admit it, but something about her comments bothered him. This feeling caught him unawares. Jean was nice and good-looking. The idea of dating her didn’t turn his stomach, yet something hidden in him seemed uncertain about the whole thing. He hoped sleep would chase that feeling away.

 Wilbur rubbed at his damp hair with a towel while he waited for the bathroom mirror’s autodefoggers to kick in. He checked the time- fifteen minutes to get ready for his fifth date with Jean. They were going to the zoo today to check out the new nighttime exhibit. After the date, he was hoping to go for the Lip Kiss. Up until this point, he and Jean had only kissed each other on the cheek good night. Although the conversation never came up, Wilbur sensed that Jean wanted to take things slow. They hadn’t even officially declared themselves dating on any social media site and Jean had requested that no photos of them together be posted online. And Wilbur completely understood the hesitance. Rumors about them were already in circulation. Of course, he was going to give Jean as much space as possible. Even so, Wilbur craved some kind of step forward. He figured a kiss was the best way to make that step.

Just as the last of the condensation lifted from the mirror, Wilbur’s phone chirped at him. He opened his most recent message from Jean.

I don’t think this is working out.

Wilbur stared at the text. Unblinking.

what?

You read what i said. i don’t think that us dating is working for me anymore.

His guts began to twist.

i don’t understand where is this coming from

Well, i just don’t think that we are very compatible.

look jean i really think maybe we should talk about this in person if there is something that you think our relationship is missing then lets talk about it.

There’s nothing to talk about Wilbur. You’re just not my type

if im not your type then why did you ask me out in the first place

Because i made a mistake obviously.

If words could bite, Wilbur would’ve believed that text left marks in him. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but that last text had sucked out any words he had at the ready.

He stood there shivering in the bathroom, listening to the drip, drip of water onto the tile, until a knock pulled him away from his phone.

“Wilbur?” Aunt Billie called. 

It took a couple tries before Wilbur could speak. “Yeah?”

“Why are you still in there? Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“Uh…yeah, I’m getting out.” Wilbur hastily wrapped his towel around his waist and left for his room.

After climbing the ladder to his loft and yanked a random pair of sweats out of his dresser. The outfit he had selected for the date returned to the closet.

Bunkering down under the sheets, Wilbur fancied himself superglued to his bed. No force on earth would move him- not any concerned knock on the door, not the insistent buzzing of his phone, not his mother’s calls over the house intercom system, not even the grumble of his stomach could separate him from his Fortress of Solitude-

(Okay, the grumble of his stomach might have been convincing enough for Wilbur to get a granola bar from the kitchen.)

He spent the remainder of the day sending Jean texts, desperate for an answer. Morning left him ragged after a troubled sleep. Radio silence on Jean’s end didn’t bring Wilbur’s mood up.

He drifted through his day on auto-pilot until lunch, when George and Angela pestered him for an explanation. Wilbur stabbed at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a plastic knife as he half-listened to his friends’ reactions once he had filled them in.

“Seriously? Over text?”

“Angela, that’s the fifth time you’ve said that.”

“I know, but that’s such a dick move. If you’re gonna break up with someone, do it in person! Jesus! Shit like this boils my blood, I tell ya.” Her voice got more muffled as she ate. “I swear if she decides to come over here- “She paused to swallow. “-I’ll give her a knuckle sandwich. No one breaks Wilbur’s heart under my watch. Wouldn’t you like to give her a piece of you mind?”

If George replied, Wilbur’s thoughts scrubbed it away. He tried to take pleasure in an image of Angela, in a fit of rage, suplexing Jean into one of the mobile trash cans in the cafeteria, but the fantasy only brought mild comfort.

Wilbur replayed their most recent date over in his head. Picking up Jean at her house, walking with her to the movies, holding hands, insisting on purchasing tickets for her, sharing popcorn, feeling Jean’s lips on his cheek. Had he put on enough deodorant? He remembered sniffing his armpits at least ten times before he left the house. Had he stepped on her foot at all? He didn’t remember a face of pain or a comment about that. Had he been rude or inconsiderate? He couldn’t recall anything distinct, but perhaps it was something he didn’t notice. Jean had frowned a bit when they were just exiting the theater. Was that a clue? Had she not liked the movie? Come to think of it, a week earlier, she had rolled her eyes at one of his jokes. Maybe she had gotten tired of his humor. Would someone break up over that? He guessed if it happened too often-

A hand patted at his forearm. “Wilbur?”

Wilbur blinked rapidly and looked to Angela, who was sitting next to him. “You okay? Your sandwich is mush!”

Indeed, Wilbur had inflicted dozens of stab wounds into the sandwich, peanut butter and jelly oozing from the holes like blood. He set down the knife. “Oh, uh…Sorry, I…um-” He glanced from George to Angela back to the remains of his sandwich. “-I got distracted.” He pushed the plate away from him.

“…Did she tell you why she was breaking up with you?”

“No. She just told me that it wasn’t working out. That’s all.” Wilbur rested his chin against his hand.

“Damn…You sure there’s nothing else to it?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Wilbur slammed his hand down on the table. “I already told you that it was all I knew, okay?”

Angela and George’s eyes were saucers. Angela had scooted away from him on the seat. “...Sorry” she murmured, eyes shifting to her food.

At the ring of the lunch bell, Wilbur murmured a quick sorry before returning to auto pilot. He devoted most of the time trying to fit the pieces of what had happened over the past three weeks in his head. He tried to analyze where he might have gone wrong, which dates had been mistakes, which jokes had been misfires, any small comments that should’ve been left unsaid, any clue that could lead him to the culprit, the flaw that had murdered his relationship in its crib.

By the time he was eating dinner at home, nothing had come to his mind. It felt like the day had fast-forwarded and he had decided to resume the movie at the present moment. He was thankful that his dinner was pasta, so he could quickly scarf it down without lingering at the table for too long. He ignored anyone calling his name, making a beeline for his room as soon as he was done.

He got a text message just as he was opening the door. His jaw dropped when he saw it was from Jean:

Can you come to the door? I’m at your place.

He moved toward the transport tubes even before he had decided if he really wanted to see Jean again. His pulse had picked up once he arrived at the front door.

Jean was standing at the front door, wearing a thick pea-color coat, her cheeks rosy from the cold. Wilbur stood there in the doorway, shuddering at the night air seeping into the foyer. “Jean.” he said, as if naming her would confirm that she was indeed in front of him at this moment.

“Can I come in?” she asked. Jean took some steps closer to Wilbur. He nodded and stepped to the side to let Jean into his house.

“So…what uh…what brings you he-“ Jean let out an ear-piercing scream before Wilbur could finish. She backed up against the door, quivering. Wilbur followed her eyeline to find Lefty slurping down the hallway, his suckers snapping off the flooring as he approached their new guest.

“Jean, it’s okay! That’s just Lefty, our butler. He’s very friendly. See?” Wilbur turned to Lefty. “Lefty, this is Jean!” he gestured in Jean’s direction. Lefty blinked in acknowledgment and held out one of his tentacles for a handshake.

Despite Lefty’s cordial approach, Jean still quivered, her hand clutching the doorknob with a white-knuckled grip. Wilbur came over to her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if he scared you. We can go somewhere else if you want.”

Jean shook her head. “No, no…I think. I think I’m just going to leave.”

The bottom of Wilbur’ stomach dropped out. “But you just got here?’

“And that’s all I needed. Goodbye.” The front door slammed in Wilbur’s face before he could protest.

He knew that Jean probably didn’t want to be approached. He also knew that this would be his last chance to ask her any questions. Wilbur followed her out into the cold, easily catching up to her while sprinting. “Jean, wait! Before you go…please…why did you break up with me?”

Jean didn’t meet his eyes. Her hands were balls in her pockets. “I told you. We’re just not…working out, Wilbur. There’s nothing else to it.”

“Was it something I said? Did you not like any of our dates?” There had to be more to this. Wilbur was sure of it.

“Are you listening to me? I just told you. We just…I don’t like you that way anymore…In fact, I’m not sure if I even liked you to begin with.” Jean’s voice, taught like a bowstring, fell to a whisper towards the end.

Wilbur teeth clattered, breath appearing in puffs in the mansion’s porch lights. His gaze flicked to the long shadows casted on the ground. “Is that what you meant by mistake?”

Wilbur almost didn’t see her nod. “Sort of…I guess I got caught up in all the gossip about you that I thought I had a crush.” Jean took a half-step toward Wilbur. “I’m sorry.”

He wanted to tell her how unfair it was for her to have asked him out under false pretenses, but Wilbur thought back to the crowded hallway and the many eyes on him. “I’m sorry, too. I…I wasn’t really sure I wanted to date you when you first asked me out, to be honest.” he said. “Guess we both suck at this whole dating thing, huh?”

The edges of Jean’s lips twitched upwards a bit. “Guess so.” She started to back away from Wilbur towards the road. “I should get going…You look cold.”

Wilbur just nodded. He watched Jean walk away, sprinting back towards his house as soon as she disappeared into the darkness.

A/N: Thank you for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it.

Shout outs to IPG/therobinsonwayoflife for her help with Wilbur’s wardrobe. If there was one thing about that boy that I wasn’t going to nail, it was his fashion sense. If you haven’t followed her yet, please check her stuff out. She is very knowledgeable and fun.

Translation notes:

Hasta la vista = See you later/Until next time/So long.

Adiós = Good-bye.

Hasta mañana = See you tomorrow. (literally: Until tomorrow)

The song for this chapter is How Will I Know by Whitney Houston. This song, to me, is the perfect song that I think encompasses what a crush feels like. Not only is Whitney Houston’s voice legendary, just the way she sings it really resonates with me. She manages to capture that nervous, giddy feeling you get when you’re lovestruck, especially in respect to young love. Also, the music video is just pure 80’s cheese and I love watching it just for that. Enjoy!.

I have accounts on AO3 (TheRationalDove) and Fanfiction.net (The Rational Dove). Want to request a fanfic? Send me an ask or PM!

Wilbur walked through the halls towards the buses, weaving in between his classmates. Normally on Wednesdays, he would have run straight to Comic Book Club, but Lazlo was unveiling his newest art installation. Wilbur was obligated to attend. Just as he turned a corner, someone called out to him: “Wilbur!”

He stopped and turned around. Tim Anderson, a boy in Ms. Kroman’s class that he had talked to a total of one time, ran up to him. “Uh, hi.” He said softly.

Wilbur studied Tim. He was fiddling with the loose straps of his backpack and looking all around the emptying hallway like he was afraid someone would stop and tackle him. “Hi. What is it?”

Tim finally met his eyes for a second. “Are-aren’t you going to Comic Book Club today?” he asked.

“No. My cousin Lazlo has an art thingy that he’s doing. My folks want me to see it. I don’t want to go, but I gotta support my family, you know?”

Tim nodded. He rocked from heel to toe, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “Oh, gotcha. Well, uh…”

Wilbur put his hands in his pockets, not sure how to respond. While he waited for Tim to say something, he looked at one of the bulletin boards next to a nearby classroom with the title “All About Fossils” spelled out in big shiny blue letters. He was just about to read one of the holosheets underneath about how the preservation process worked, when something soft, warm, and slightly wet briefly touched his lips. Wilbur froze, eyes glued to an image of a trilobite. By the time Wilbur blinked, the sensation was gone and Tim was booking it down the hallway.  Wilbur knew he should do something: call out to Tim, run after him, demand to know what just happened. Instead, he stood alone in the hallway, his mind still fighting to make sense of what had passed between them.

On the bus ride home, he was lost in his thoughts. Had he…been kissed? Wilbur dismissed the idea immediately. Surely, there was some other explanation. Maybe Tim just brushed his face in a weird way. That had to be it. It was an odd thing to do while you are having a conversation, but then again Wilbur had been distracted. Maybe he was just trying to get his attention! None of this explained the wetness he had felt. He turned the event over and over in his head while he ate dinner. He was pulled away from his homework every now and then, thinking about what happened. To the surprise of his mother, he barely put up a fight when she fixed his hair and straightened his tie as the family prepared for the gala. He wasn’t very talkative during the ride to the gallery and he couldn’t have told you anything about Lazlo’s new pieces. All that existed in his brain was Tim Anderson, a cartoon trilobite and a wet something on his lips. During his ride home, he pulled out his tablet, debating whether to text his friends about it. He tried George Yagoobian, his best friend, but he was inactive. He sent Angela a quick text as her icon indicated she was available, but she never respond quickly, so Wilbur didn’t hold his breath.

Eventually, he closed out of the messaging app and slouched in his seat. Tim Anderson is cute at least. he thought absently. Maybe not super cute, but cute enough. Maybe this wasn’t that bad. Sure it wasn’t ideal and he really wished he could’ve saved his first kiss for someone special. Not that he cared about first kisses that much. Just Tim hadn’t been on his top ten list of people he might’ve been kissing. Yeah. This didn’t bother him at all.

Later that night, before he fell asleep, his mother knocked on the door and came in. She didn’t tell him why she was there, but he knew immediately. Franny sat down on the edge of his bed, looking at him. “Are you ready to tell me what’s been eating you?  You’ve been quiet all evening. And I normally get an eyeroll out of you when I tell you to put on a tie.”

Wilbur shoved his stuffed bear under the covers and gripped at his Captain Time Travel-themed bedspread instead. “Someone kissed me?” Wilbur felt his cheeks reddening as the word came out of him.

Franny’s lips twitch a bit upward. “Oh really? What kind of kiss? Was it a pretty young girl? Or a handsome young boy?” She had a full smile on now, though it was probably more of a smirk.

“B-boy and it was uh, on the lips? But I didn’t kiss him, really, he kissed me first.” The last sentence rushed out of him. Wilbur didn’t need his mother getting the wrong idea.

“Uh-huh.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned in a bit closer. “Was it George?”

Everything internally within Wilbur grinded to a halt. “WHAT? Ew, no! Moommmm! George and I are just bros. He’d never kiss me.” He couldn’t even believe his mother was suggesting something as ridiculous as that.

Franny laughed. “Oh, honey! I was just joking.” She stopped laughing and continued. “Who was it?”

“Tim Anderson.”

“Hmmm…Tim Anderson.” Franny tapped her chin. “Do I know him?”

“No.” Thank goodness, he thought. He could imagine the scene now: his mother calling up the Andersons to ask innocent questions, peering into their house from the bushes with binoculars….

“I guess you didn’t like being kissed by this mysterious Tim Anderson?”

“No…He’s not really my type.”

“I didn’t know you had a type.”

“Mom, I just don’t like him that way, okay?”

Franny laughed again, but gentler this time. “Okay, baby. I believe you.” She leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead. “Did you tell him you didn’t like the kiss?”

Wilbur chewed at the inside of his lip. “No. He kinda…left before I could say anything.”

“Well, you should tell him. You don’t want him thinking that it was okay for him to kiss you if you didn’t want to be kissed.”

Wilbur just nodded. He thought about tomorrow during recess, about Sharon talking to her friends and those friends talking about them in whispers. He thought about bullies teasing Tim on the playground. He knew he had to tell Tim before that happened. “I think he has a crush on me. I don’t wanna hurt his feelings.”

Franny pat one of his legs. “Having your crush reject you is never fun and it isn’t easy when you have to be the one to do it, but it’s also not fair to either of you if you aren’t honest.”

For a moment, there was a silence as Wilbur let everything sink in. His mother moved to get up and say goodnight when Wilbur said. “Mom?”

“Yes, Wilbur?”

“Do you think...Is it weird that my first kiss was like this? I mean, it wasn’t really you know, romantic or anything…”

Even with her face partially in shadow, he could still see her smile. “Of course not. My first kiss was with a frog, so I think I have you beat.”

Wilbur huffed. “You’re lying.”

Franny winked at him. “If you say so. Now, get some sleep. Good night.”

“Night.”

His mother turned off the lights as she left, leaving Wilbur to contemplate kisses in the darkness.

 Wilbur found Tim at recess. He was sitting with Jay playing with action figures amongst the fallen leaves. Wilbur stood at the other end of the playground, pacing back and forth.  As soon as he arrived at school, the rumor mill churned away. People came up to him, accusing him of kissing a total of ten different people.  He was thankful that the rumors had not just involved Tim. Even George had asked him about the situation, having heard about it from Sharon (of course, who else would be telling people things to literally everyone!) Since Tim wasn’t in the same class as him, Wilbur needed to talk during recess, the only time the whole fifth grade was in one place. Not only were there other people around, but the rumor mill wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

“You know, recess is gonna be over soon.” Wilbur jolted, turning around to see George standing nearby, a kickball tucked under his arm. His messy chestnut hair was partially in his face and Wilbur had to bite back a laugh at how George looked, peering through his own bangs.

“Yeah….I just…I don’t want to do this. What if I say something wrong? What if I accidentally say yes? What if he kisses me again? What if I fart randomly while I’m talking? What if-?”

             A hand grasped Wilbur’s forearm firmly. “Wilbur….just tell him the truth.” George said, squeezing his arm. “I promise that the world won’t blow up. I’ll be at the hoops if you need me.”

             He knew George was right. Why was George right so often? “Okay…Okay I’ll go.” He gave his best friend a quick smile, before sucking in a deep breath and walking over to Tim. Eyes were on him, but he ignored it.

“Hey, uh? Tim?”

Tim shot up to his feet almost immediately, his action figures abandoned on the ground, leaves scattering around him. “W-Wilbur!” he said, “H-Hi!” Tim was practically shaking as he stood there and Wilbur knew it wasn’t from the cold. “U-um. Look, I-I’m sorry. About the uh…” He glanced at Jay, who nodded a bit at him. “About the kiss. I-“

“It’s fine, Tim. It’s no big deal.” A blush grew on his cheeks, which he hoped Tim would think was just from the brisk weather.

“No. You…It was dumb and…well…” Tim’s voice cracked.

“You…you have a crush on me?”

A strong gust of autumnal wind blew through them before Tim whimpered out a yes. His face was tomato-red.

Wilbur inhaled deeply through his nose. He could do this. Be honest, Wilbur. “So, Tim. I…I can’t date you?”

Wilbur swore he could see life literally drain from Tim. He instantly wanted to take it back. “Oh. That’s fine. I get it.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s not like you’d feel the same way.”

He let out an awkward laugh. “Well, hey. You never know! I’m sure someone else likes you. Maybe someone who’s even better than me.”

 “Yeah. Maybe.” Tim sat back down on the ground, turning away from Wilbur.  He knew he should leave, but Wilbur felt like somehow winter had come early and froze him to where he was.

 “…I’m really sorry, Tim.”

Jay wrinkled his pudgy nose up at Wilbur. “Get out of here, Robinson! Leave us alone.”

Wilbur finally got his muscles working after that. He walked as confidently over to the basketball hoops, where George was busy attempting to make a three-point shot. George caught the ball on a rebound,  tucked the ball under his arm again when he noticed “How’d it go?” 

“Welp. I’m pretty sure Tim and Jay hate my guts. And everything else for that matter.” He knew that he had to say what he did and be honest with Tim, but he still felt guilt making a home for itself in his stomach.  He kicked at a stray pebble on the ground.

George put a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “Yeah. It sucks, but I think it would’ve been a whole lot worse if you dated him.” Wilbur somehow caught his ridiculously contagious smile despite himself.

“You’re right. Thanks.” He might have made two enemies today, but he still had a best friend.

“Y’know, I think there’s a saying that you may or may not have heard before, Wilbur. I think it would work perfectly for the situation.”

“Let me take a wild guess. Keep moving forward?” Wilbur crossed his arms.

“Actually, it was ‘It could’ve been worse’, but close enough.”

Wilbur laughed and George pulled him into a game of HORSE until the recess bell rang.  For the time being, Wilbur didn’t worry himself with first kisses.

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And there’s the first chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it! I have decided for this project to include songs that I think match the feeling of the chapter, especially the ones I listened to while working. Unfortunately, there isn’t really a song that I knew that matches this chapter’s mood, so I decided to go with a song I thought fit the general feeling of this project.

The first one is Crushcrushcrush by Paramore. I think this song may be a little more edgy for the kind of situation going on in this chapter, but there are still discussions of a secret crush, so…it works? Mostly, I just think Paramore is a great band and their songs have aged incredibly well. Please enjoy.

The second video is a groovy song, Hit the Road Jack by Ray Charles. Since this story is about break-ups, I figured I’d put up a generic song about it. Also, I felt it was appropriate since jazz is a music genre that Wilbur probably listens to a lot, considering Franny’s work.

I have accounts on AO3 and Fanfiction.net. Want to request a fanfic? Send me an ask or PM!