Strategy Meeting

“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat. That’s your first mistake,” Michel said, pausing momentarily to take a sip from his coffee cup. “Either you deliver it like a man, or you're going home like Chris Kim. And don’t even try to pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Just because you don’t gossip doesn't mean you don't have ears.”

I sighed, “I know, I know. I’ve heard it already, the ‘you don’t wanna end up like Chris Kim’. Poor guy.”

“Dude couldn't look her in the eye for the rest of the month. And when he got paired with her for the French debate after? It was like watching a sitcom without the laugh track." He knocked on his chest with his fist. "Rest in pieces, you poor bastard."

My soda was beginning to lose its fizz. With a dissatisfied grunt, I resealed the cap and began shaking the bottle, trying to build up whatever pressure was left in the bottle. Meanwhile, Michel was beginning to talk louder, something about keeping a cool mind and plowing through my fears. A group of adults by the other table seemed to be staring at me. I tried my best to pay them no heed, although my gut could feel their eyes boring a hole in my sweater. I occasionally responded to Michel with an amused nod of my head or shrug of my shoulders, just enough to urge him forward. My attention was already focused elsewhere. Besides, there was no point in discussing hypotheticals – whatever happens, happens. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. I fiddled with my pencil aimlessly as I scanned over my chemistry homework.

“And let’s be real, there’s a lot of competition!” He said. “Not like you’re aiming for the top, but you are certainly a mile away from the bottom of the barrel, here. You have to deliver it like it’s your job.”

“Mhm. Hey, do you remember how Kb worked in the acid-base unit? I’m a little lost. Is it the same as Ka?”

“What.”

“Take a look at this.” I pointed to the question, my brow furrowed in contemplation. “Actually, did your class even cover this yet? Nevermind, I’ll figure it out myself.”

 “You cannot be seriously doing homework right now.”

“What do you mean? I always do my homework,” I replied, hoping my ignorant demeanour would let the conversation drop.

We sat in silence for a good moment. Outside, the soft rays of afternoon sunlight finally crept their way past the cloudy sky. A dull orange shade illuminated the room as I brought the soda bottle to my lips.

He asked in a sharp tone, “Are you even listening to yourself? Didn’t you just say you were worried this morning? And here I thought I could finally showcase my love knowledge for you.”

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll just hope for the best," I said, before adding, “It’s not like worrying will do much, right? Besides, I’ll probably get rejected, so there’s no reason to get my hopes up.”

Michel gave me a stern look without replying. For a moment, I might as well have been listening to a coffee shop ambience playlist online. Just muddled chatter from other tables, a quiet radio playing some recent pop song I remembered hearing once or twice, and the shuffling of footsteps as customers came and went. I raised an eyebrow, hoping he’d drop the subject, and took another sip of soda, satisfied with the newfound fizz. Michel’s patience deteriorated first.

“That’s lame, dude. Lame.” He shook his head.

“What are you talking about? I’m just stating hard facts,” I said.

“Nope, you’re making assumptions because you’re scared. You are a circus, man. I can’t believe I’m hanging around someone who gives up before he even tries!” Michel placed his hands on his head in annoyance.

I scoffed, "Well, what the heck do you know about it! Who died and made you the pick-up king?”

“Oh, now you’re mocking me? I’m not the one that hasn’t had a girlfriend in his entire life. I’ll have you know that Sarah and I are doing absolutely swell right now, and, not to brag, but I account for at least fifty percent of the relationship.”

“But Sarah’s the one that asked you out, not the other way around. What would you even know about it?” I asked.

“Excuse me, lemme think about the times you asked somebody else out or vice-versa.” He paused. “Yep, that’s a total of zero. Trust me, Luke, I know a lot more about the dating front than you, buddy, so listen. I’m about to set you up for success like you’ve never seen before.”

Without hesitation, Michel grabs my pencil and takes my notebook, tearing off one of the back pages. Yes, thank you for asking, I would have said if he had asked first. I always wondered what it would cost to rent out the vacancy in Michel’s skull. There was merit in restraint, nevertheless.

The name ‘Erica’ appeared in big, bulky letters characteristic of his handwriting on the top of the page. A bright grin formed on his tanned face.

“Now, let’s think about Erica for a second. Picture her in your mind, in her natural habitat. She is, I dunno, studying in the library, running that club in Room 213. That sort of thing.”

“Oh, god.” I pinched the bridge of my nose in preparation. That grin only meant that his train of thought would continue chugging along until it cratered into Pluto.

Whether Michel noticed my expression or not, he continued regardless. “Look, this girl has never dated before either, as far as I can tell. She goes to debate, she tutors middle schoolers, she’s the head of the art club, and she has grades higher than the Empire State.”

“I mean, I know. That’s why I’m pretty sure confessing would be absolutely useless.”

“Nope, that’s the wrong mindset. You’ll never get anywhere thinking like that.” Michel hastily drew a big checkmark on the side of the page. “Now what do you like about her? What makes Erica the ideal candidate for Mr. Luke Ma?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Um.”

“Don’t be shy. You’re in a safe space.” He gestured around the coffee shop, attracting even more unwanted attention. One middle-aged lady in a purple jacket seemed to snicker at us, troubled adolescents. Our eyes met briefly before she briskly got up from her seat, her mouth curled up into a smile that screamed ‘oh, these kids!’ under her breath.

I rested my head on my hands. My words drifted out into the open. “Well, I guess I find her cute.”

“Oh, I see. It’s the braid, isn’t it?”

“Don’t play around, it is pretty cute. That soft brown hair, the big eyes, the braid, everything just feels right. For me. I mean, I wouldn’t go after someone if I didn’t see a long-term relationship with them, anyways. You know.”

“I know. You sound super old. But don’t mind that, just keep talking.”

“She’s very assertive, confident, and she has a very dry sense of humour.” I frowned. “That last one sounds more like an insult, but trust me, it’s easy to start loving it once you get used to it.”

Michel began writing more down, a psychiatrist in the making. I didn’t wait for any more beckoning before I continued.

“And I think it started that time in English when we were paired together for that presentation. Remember? It was for The Crucible, we had to discuss whether Proctor could pass as a tragic hero. We worked our butts off to make our presentation engaging and fun so that the class would be engaged, and it was worth the payoff. During our brainstorming, she laughed at my jokes, and I laughed at hers. And at that point, I remember that I thought to myself: hey, she isn’t as unapproachable as I thought. That’s where it started, and that’s where it’s basically stagnated. It’s been a while, you know?”

The soda bottle became lukewarm in my hand. I noticed the slight beats of my heart, a small smile forming subconsciously on my face. My mind cleared, if only a little. The cacophony of sounds in the coffee shop began to fade into the background more and more as my thoughts fluttered away from the present and focused on the past.

“It’s been a while. I don’t know, I’m just getting cold feet. We still don’t talk much, only occasionally. She still remembers my name, which is a major bonus, I guess. It’s better than Chris, anyway. But it seems like every time I interact with her, I get reminded at this huge gap in quality.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her grades are higher than mine, her extracurricular activities are cooler than mine.” My voice began to grow increasingly agitated. “I’m not exactly handsome in terms of looks, and when she laughs and jokes about focusing on school to get into a good university, or when I catch her lecturing other students in a class I’m struggling in, I –”

“Luke.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” I was glad I caught myself. With all that shaking and shrugging, I almost spilled my drink. “It’s overwhelming, to say the least.”

This entire time, the pencil had been carefully in motion, not stopping for a second. As soon as I finished my sentence, however, Michel nodded in approval, satisfied with himself.

He said, “This is classic, man. You’re feeling self-pity. That’s good.”

“What do you mean ‘good’?”

Michel shows me his paper. On it was a comprehensive list of jot notes dedicated to my earlier rant. I grimaced at some of the word choices, but I admitted to him that it was pretty accurate. Michel ran a hand through his curly, brown hair before he spoke, clearly content.

“Then I can actually do something. Pep talk, coach, that sorta thing. I can tell you right now, though, that from an outsider’s perspective, she’s not completely out of your league.”

“Completely?”

“You’ll have to work for it.”

I frowned. “Are you sure about that?”

“Try me,” Michel affirmed. “This is all just you feeling like you’re not good enough for her to say yes! And I’m telling you right here, right now, that you don’t have any reason to feel that way. Just trust on this, man. This is exactly like Olivia.”

“Olivia? You mean from Bell?”

“Yeah. Olivia was also super smart, and talented, and active. And she isn’t lacking in the looks department, either. Right?” Michel threw me an expectant stare.

My eyes rolled reflexively. “Fine. I admit, she’s very pretty. What’s your point?”

Michel snickered. “Guess what? Even though she’s surrounded by boys and friends, she still doesn’t have a boyfriend. You might be thinking that she just rejected them all, but she didn’t. She never got anyone to confess to her, despite so many guys crushing on her. She was assertive, she was confident, and that’s the issue. She was better in so many ways. The rumour that she would’ve rejected everyone regardless is just a lie. In fact, she was down to date since the beginning of last year, something about wanting to experience a ‘real relationship’ before graduation. Girls are crazy, man.”

“Are you saying that the very fact that she was better than so many guys deterred them from asking her out?”

“I am.”

“That’s, well…” I cast my eyes to the floor. “That sounds pretty likely, actually.”

Michel clapped his hands like a kid who finally cracked open his birthday pinata. “Exactly!”

An Uber driver that was leaving reflexively looked back at our table, to my embarrassment. It appeared that this feeling was not mutual, as Michel then slammed my pencil on the table, overjoyed, accidentally tipping over his now empty coffee cup, and pointed towards me a stern finger.

“Soon, I don’t care if it’s today, tomorrow, or next week. Soon, you’re going to man up and ask Erica out for a little coffee date. Now, ah, ah, don’t say anything. This is what you’ll do: you go up to her and take her somewhere private, where no one else can influence you or her. The focus is on you. Then, you say it outright. No beating around the bush, since you gotta respect her time and attention. No one wants their time wasted. And then? Just flat out ask her. Trust me, she’d be pleasantly surprised at best, and at least you get an answer.”

“What? But she’ll just say no with something that boring!”

“Oh, come on! Stop with that!” Michel cried out. “There’s only one thing that’s worse than getting that ‘no’, and that’s never getting an answer! You think Sarah would be happier if she never asked me out? Get real!”

I tried to shush him down, but it was futile. The other customers were beginning to give us strange looks. At this point though, I was used to it. With a shrug of my shoulders, I began finishing what little soda I had left. No more bubbles, however small, rose to the surface of the liquid, much to my dismay.

“And let’s be real, one of the biggest issues with confessions is confidence! When Sarah asked me out, all embarrassed and shy, sure, I found that cute. But if a guy tried to approach her – Sarah, the girl who got sent to the principal’s office for punching that tenth grader for bullying her – and was all ‘oh, I dunno, but I think I like you’, She’d turn him down like he had the plague. Whatever you say, you gotta convince her that you’re the cream of the crop. If only for a moment. Now, say it with me.”

“Huh? Wait a second here –”

“Erica, I’m in love with you!”

I almost spat out my drink. “What, not so loud!”

“Say it. Come on, I know you wanna. Repeat after me. Erica, I –”

“Dude, stop!”

“Not until you finally grow a pair. I didn’t spend this entire speech prepping you for success so that I’d leave empty-handed.” Michel huffed. “Now say the damn line.”

My eyes began scanning the other tables, although I luckily didn’t find anyone I recognized. I supposed not many people came to drink coffee here after school. I expected more, especially on a Friday. In any case, Michel crossed his arms, unimpressed with my reaction.

“I’m waiting. It’s not hard. And if you can’t even bring yourself to do it during a practice run like this, there’s no way you’d ever be able to confess in person. Nothing’s worse than that feeling of ‘I wish I didn’t chicken out when I had the chance’. Just do it.”

“I really don’t want to, man! How are you not embarrassed?” I asked.

“Because this isn’t embarrassing. It’s just text-to-speech,” he said. “Come on, you can’t leave me hanging, Luke. Don’t make me look like a fool in front of the entire coffee shop, man. It will only be not-weird if you do it, too.”

My hesitation was getting the best of me, but Michel had a point. There was no way I’d be able to confess if I couldn’t even get the words out now. His voice was stern, directed, planted deep into the ground and strong enough to hold their own. That was the goal, I supposed. I thought about scanning my surroundings one more time, but eventually realized that it would probably make me more self-conscious. They didn’t matter.

“Think about her saying ‘yes’, the fun you’d have hanging out, anything that’ll keep you optimistic, y’know?” He added.

Ah, whatever.

“Fine.” I click my tongue in mild frustration, letting my mind loose for just a moment. “Imagine I’m walking to class, I see Erica. I pull her aside to that corner around the science hallway. And I say this.”

I exhaled softly, imagining myself. I was strong, I was worth it. I could do it, I was confident. And I’d damn myself to hell if I couldn’t get the words out on the big day.

“Erica, I’ve liked you for some time now. Would you be down to grab a coffee sometime, maybe Friday after school?”

I held my breath in anticipation. But instead of a nod of approval or a shake of his head, that big grin appears on his face once more.

“Okay, then. Thank you for choosing my services, my name is Michel, and I am not being paid enough for this. That’ll be five dollars.”

“Nice try, Michel.”

He snickered at his own joke. “I’m expecting an update by next week. That’s the deadline, and if you don’t do anything by then, I’m gonna be mad.”

“You drive a tough deal, Michel,” I joked, matching his unyielding gaze as I spoke, “but I know you are indeed absolutely cuckoo when mad, so I accept.”

“That’s what I like to hear! I expect to see you at school with a new girlfriend or a bottle of wine, depending on how it goes. Now go get ‘em, dude.”

Without another word, Michel stood up from his chair, rolled his shoulders as a small stretch, and waved goodbye. It wasn’t until after he left that it registered in my mind what I just agreed to. As I zipped up my backpack, I couldn’t help but sigh. A tentative deadline, next week, and some flimsy, ragtag words floating in front of my face – “Go get ‘em”.

For the first time in a long while, I could feel my feet firmly planted into the ground with every step, marching forward. After all, I had a big day to prepare for and no time to waste. A nervous smile formed on my face as I left the coffee shop, tossing the empty soda bottle into the trash with a satisfying ‘clunk’.