"Oh, you look so handsome," Mom said when he came down the stairs. She tried to kiss him on the forehead, but he ducked under her embrace.
"Mom, don't," he said. He couldn't show up at the auditorium with her lipstick on his forehead.
"I'm sorry, honey. I made you some breakfast."
Wendell looked at the plate of eggs on the table, his stomach churning. He couldn't get a bite down right now if he tried. "I don't have time. Sam's dad is going to be here any minute. I'll get something at school."
A car honked outside as if on cue. Wendell kissed Mom on the cheek before running out the door to Mr. Young's beat-up car. Samantha sat in the backseat, so tiny her feet didn't touch the floor. Despite being the same age as Wendell, Samantha was often mistaken for a little girl of six or seven. She still had a child's taste in clothes, today wearing a pink dress lined with lace and a matching bow in her hair that made her look three years old. Only the pimples on her dark cheeks gave any clue to her real age. "Hi there," she said. "Do you think I'm overdressed for today? Daddy said the bow was a bit much, but I think it's cute."
"It's very cute," Wendell said.
"See, Daddy, I told you so." She stuck her tongue out at Mr. Young as he backed the car out of the driveway. "Are you ready for today? I'm so nervous I can hardly stand it."
Samantha chattered more than usual when she was nervous. She had ever since he first met her in first grade. He found the sound of her voice in these situations soothing. He could close his eyes and listen to her childish prattling forever. Soon he would be able to; once he became a rich and famous scientist he would finally accept her overtures to make their friendship into something more. To demonstrate this, he reached across the seat to squeeze her tiny hand. Her face turned red and her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh Wendell," she said.
They didn't say anything for the rest of the ride to school, but when Mr. Young finally stopped the car, Wendell kissed Samantha's cheek. "I'll see you later," he said.
The first half of the day was torture. He kept his eyes fixed on the clock, each second feeling like an eternity. In math class, Mrs. Milton chided him for not paying attention. Finally the bell rang for lunch and he hurried to the auditorium to prepare for the presentation.
Samantha was already there, no more than a pink dot in the back row. She waved to him and he waved back, but he didn't want to say anything to her until he finished the presentation. Then they would have all the time in the world to talk.