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a bird. But my friends just thought she was skinny. We had a game we would play with the juice glasses. Lay it on its side in front of you and press your fingers down on it until it snapped out from under them and spun across the table. The spin would eventually get the glass to stand up and the object was to get it to stand up as close to the edge of the table as you could. We deeply sunk into one of these games when my buddies first laid eyes on her. She had come in for breakfast and was sitting all alone eating her oatmeal. I was staring, dead to the outside world, just her and me and my mouthful of pancakes. I was startled out of all this by the smash. The glass from someone elses poor shot had flown past me and shattered on the floor. My roommate was sitting across from me and gave me a quizzical look until he realized I had been staring over his shoulder. "Whats got you all lost in the headlights?" he asked as he started to crane his neck in the last known position of my gaze. "Oooohhhhh, I see. Shes a cutie." That did it. Now everyone was looking. "Who?" came from my left. "The redhead," my roommate answered for me as I began to blush. "Shes a little skinny, dont you think?" came from my right. "Nice ass, though. Hey Ack, why dont you go over and say hi, seems a shame shes gotta eat all by herself," was my roommates suggestion. "Naw, I got too much shit to get done. Soon as Im done eating I gotta get to the gym. Besides, she eats her breakfast alone everyday." Whoops, too much information. "Everyday? What, are you stalking her?" "Sounds like somebodys gotta crush." Here comes the barrage of laughter and pokes in the ribs. I cant help but smile, I mean I do have a crush on her. "Ah, its probably just as well, you candy ass. The two of you are skinny enough to keep me up all night if you ever hooked up. Id never get any sleep with you two bags o bones rattlin around across the room. Itll sound like youre playing Yahtzee." This is how people get their nicknames. From this point on the infallible apple of my eye was to be referred to as Yahtzee. It was killing me. I would see her all over campus. Every class I went to, every appointment, every trip to the gym it seemed she was going the other way. Her lithe legs carrying her from place to place so gracefully she almost seemed to be floating. My only sanctuary was at the rink, and even that was getting hard to handle with the constant ribbing from my teammates. "Hey, after practice lets go to Paulies and play Yahtzee!" Laughter. "Anybody hear that last Rush album? Roll The Bones?" More laughter. I guess it was funny. I had a crush on a skinny girl


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and I got my harassment just like anybody else would. Then came the night at Rats, the local chalk-your-license underclassmen pick-up bar. I used to hang out there on the occasional Friday night and get way to drunk with my friends as we shouted obscenities in our reverie. On this particular night the object of my desires was in the place. I had no reason to be surprised by this, as she always seemed to be in my vicinity. She was the fruit on the branch to my Tantalus, always there to tempt, but never obtainable no matter how hard your hunger made you try. There I was leaning on the pool table, staring, beer in hand. The crowd was almost as thick as the smoke as I watched her sip at her vodka and cranberry as she laughed with her friends. The jubilation on her face as her head swung back to laugh through her wide smile just made it harder for me to resist her. "Dude, Im getting sick of this shit," my roommate had materialized through my fog of puppy love. "All you do is stand there and drool. If youre not going to grow a set of balls and talk to her just drop it and well get on with our lives." "Oh man, I dont know," said I as I stared at the familiar shot of Jaegermeister and Rumpleminz he was holding out to me. I had a whole lot of booze in me already. "Cmon you pussy. Drink up and get over there," he was insisting. "I spoke to the D.J. and we got it all worked out, trust me. Just have a shot of courage and ask her to dance." Logic like that couldnt fail, could it? We chanted our obligatory college-roommates-out-drinking pre shot chant and slugged down the painful black syrup. I was ready for war. I got my druthers and was going to do it, Goddamn it. I was gong to ask her to dance. I began to walk over to her side of the bar. The D.J. was looking down at me from his booth and grinning like a freak. He pointed at her and gave me the most enthusiastic thumbs up I have ever witnessed, I though he was trying to throw something at me. I walked towards her and her friends saw me first. One friend looked at her and pointed over her shoulder at me as I approached. She turned and saw me, too late to turn back now. "Hi! Wanna dance?" With that the music changed abruptly to Shaggys Boombastic, the D.J. all too aware what happens when people dance to dancehall reggae. She looked me up and down slowly, taking in my sight from toes to the top of my dreadlocked head, locked her shimmering green eyes into mine, and then turned back around to her friends. Yknow, some things we just dont need happening to us. I dragged my bruised ego back to my friends. The D.J. had seen and bless his