Nancy Elaine Trumbolli

My pace quickened as I walked down the hall, getting closer and closer to my destiny. Passing the classrooms on the east side, I could see teachers prepping for the day to come. I can’t imagine many students want to come to school this early, especially on a Monday, but here I am. I feel like a fool, a bumbling idiot, at least I’ve felt this way since my freshman year started a month ago. The difference between middle school and high school is huge. I think back to my parents warning me about this fact, but I don’t think they emphasized it enough. In middle school I could walk out of a classroom and look down the hall and see my buddies waiting for me to go to lunch. Big man on campus, that was me. The teachers loved me, or at least they acted like they loved me. I would help in class by cleaning the whiteboards, picking up the trash, that others would just toss on the ground. I would pass out tests and alert the teachers if I knew someone was not there so they could properly mark that down. I felt like it was my duty to make sure the teacher had assigned the proper amount of homework before the end of class. I wanted to make sure we got the most out of our time in school.

But this year is different (understatement of my life). This year, I walk out of the classrooms and I’m greeted by a senior’s navel. I can’t tell where I am and I have difficulty navigating the halls, but no way I’m going to ask for help. I made that mistake once, and I still haven’t found the aquarium that a senior football player told me about. He gave specific instructions on how to get there and I looked for the first week, but I can’t find it anywhere. I’m beginning to think he might have made it up and I’ve been on a wild goose chase the whole time. The upperclassmen seem nice, but I’ve had a permanent wedgy since day one. When I'm just walking down the hall, minding my own business, someone will pick me up by the back of my jeans and It’ll take me an hour to dig the briefs out of my butt.

As a matter of fact, I was about to chalk up my freshman year as a loss, then I met her, Nancy Trumbolli. Nancy Elaine Trumbolli. I don’t know if Elaine is her middle name, but it sounds so good, I’m going with it. She’s a sophomore. An older lady. So sophisticated and polished she puts all the girls in my grade to shame. And she volunteers every morning to help the librarian, Mrs. Baker, pick up and organize so they’ll be ready for the school day. One of the benefits of volunteering to help a staff member is that you get to go into the school an hour early. I say benefit, some say the cost. There are students in the school early to make up for bad grades or to have detention because of acting out, then there are the Nancy Elaine Trumbollis of the school, who volunteer their time to help others. Well, it just so happens that I have volunteered my time this morning, helping the librarian in any way I can. I’m an angel. Or at least the school secretary thinks I am. Little does she know that my master plan is to be in Nancy Elaine Trumbolli’s presence for the first hour of the day. I want to inhale her scent. I want to gaze upon her beauty and soak in everything about her. And if it means that I must pick up library books, so be it.

I quickly slide into the boy’s room just outside the library to check myself. I’ve done well in picking out my outfit to meet my future wife. A nice, crisp, royal blue polo shirt with a starched collar. And this is a real polo shirt, except that it looks like the tag says, ‘Palo’, but even then, it could be from Spain, so I’m cool with that. I have on my best pair of khaki pants, not the utility ones that have all the pockets, those are tacky. And to finish off the ensemble, my skater shoes that have a skull on the sides. I quickly unwrap a peppermint I grabbed on the way to the bus this morning and pop it in my mouth. Oh, and I smell good because I used the Calvin Klein cologne, I got for my birthday last year. I must say, you could probably smell it from the other end of the hall. My mom loves it on me, and I trust her judgement.

As I step into the cold, quiet library, I looked around, getting myself familiar with the area. I scan and see her on the west side of the biography section, Nancy Elaine Trumbolli, adjusting books on the bottom shelf. I slowly stroll to her area, not too fast because I need to look cool while doing it.

I go over what I need to say in my head. Hello, I’m Denton Mitchell, this is my first day volunteering, can I help you? Or, Hey, babe, looks like you need a little help, that’s got ‘me’ written all over it. Or Yo, what’s up? Or…

“Are you the Freshman?” she beat me to the punch and greets me before I get all the way over to her.

“Uh…” I freeze. Oh God, I can’t move.

“Go to the science section and don’t mess it up. Just make sure you get it ready for the first bell.” Even though she said something and was talking directly to me, I am still completely frozen, much like a wild bunny who’s transfixed on a car’s headlights.

“Did you hear me? Freshman?” she talks again.

Now would be the best time to just let her know how I feel. What are your interests? Let’s hang out at lunch. How do you feel about marriage? Anything, you idiot! Just talk. Say something!

“Are you okay? You seem like you might get sick?” Oh crap. She knows I’m panicking.

“Ha! Nobody I’m shine, total placate teel. Potootie doo!” What did I just say? Oh, God, please don’t tell me that came out the way I heard it.

“Mrs. Baker come quick!” she yells to the other side of the library. “It’s okay buddy. I think you might be having a seizure or a stroke. Just hang on.” Nancy Elaine Trumbolli starts to run to the other side and bring Mrs. Baker back with her.

I’ve yet to be able to move from the frozen position I’m stuck in. Wait, did she call me, buddy? No!

Mrs. Baker quickly reaches me and places her hand on my shoulder like my mom does when I’m sick. “Are you okay Denton? You look a little flush.”

I manage to nod my head and smile but still, no words come out. Tell her you’re okay, tell her you’re okay! Do it! “Me fine, ha!.” is all I can muster.

By now, Nancy Elaine Trumbolli has retrieved a washcloth that she’s run under the water fountain and Mrs. Baker is applying it to my forehead.

Several other kids have come to see what all the commotion is about, and they’ve sat me on a rolling step stool used to reach the higher books in the cases.

Now would be the perfect time to just come out and ask Nancy Elaine Trumbolli how she likes school this year. Hey, is 10^th grade everything you expected? Do you have any pets? What do you like to do in your free time? But all I can manage is a half-smile, like when my grandmother was recovering from her stroke last year. Then I burst out, way too loud, “Ha! Pleasure, thanks.”

All the kids gathered to see what is going and whisper then they break into a round of applause. Mrs. Baker looks relieved. I think she thought I really was sick. The first bell rings and Nancy Elaine Trumbolli grabs her bag and starts to head out to the hall and walk to her first class.

Hey, wait up and I’ll walk with you! What’s your first class? What’s your favorite class? Say anything, you idiot! “Happy Days!” is all that spurts out.

Mrs. Baker stands me up by placing her hand gently on my back. “Come on Denton, let’s go down and see Dr. Shanker in the clinic. We might need to call your mom to come and get you.”

The whole walk down to the clinic made me think about my life, as we passed kids in the hall, pointing at me, and whispering to each other about the freshman who could only speak gibberish in the library. I can’t help but think that I’ve probably ruined every chance I had at ever having a normal conversation with Nancy Elaine Trumbolli. I had so many plans. I was going to pick her up on my bike and take her out to the sushi place by my house. Then we could have strolled by the lake as I gently took her hand and we talked about our future together, the white picket fence house and the seven kids, they’re all fading away now. I’ll probably grow up and be alone for the rest of my life.

Maybe I should write her a note. I’m much better at the written word.