“Donneven," I said, in my best Monica imitation, and he laughed. "We're not talking about me.""We could be," he said, as I watched Bert take note of a group of what looked like ninth graders who had justcome into the living room."I'm not gorgeous," I said."Sure you are."I just shook my head, knowing this was him evading the question. "You," I said, "have this whole tall, darkstranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit.""Bit?""You know what I mean."He shook his head, clearly discounting this description. "And you," he said, "have that whole blonde, cooland collected, perfect smart girl thing going on.""You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with," I said."You," he replied, "are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day.”

“I just shook my head, knowing this was him evading the question.You," I said, "have this whole tall, dark stranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit."Bit?"You know what I mean."He shook his head, clearly discounting this description.And you," he said, "have that whole blonde, cool and collected, perfect smart girl thing going on."You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with," I said.You," he replied, "are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day.”

“You, have this whole tall, dark stranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit.And you, have that whole blonde cool and collected perfect smart thing going on.You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with.You, are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day.”

“I don't know," I said. "What else did you do for your first eighteen years?""Like I said," he said as I unlocked the car, "I'm not so sure that you should go by my example.""Why not?""Because I have my regrets," he said. "Also, I'm a guy. And guys do different stuff.""Like ride bikes?" I said."No," he replied. "Like have food fights. And break stuff. And set off firecrackers on people's front porches. And...""Girls can't set off firecrackers on people's front porches?""They can," he said... "But they're smart enough not to. That's the difference.”

“What the hell," I said, pushing off the wall, ready to take off the head of whatever stupid salesperson had decided to get cozy with me. My elbow was still buzzing, and I could feel a hot flush creeping up my neck: bad signs. I knew my temper.I turned my head and saw it wasn't a salesman at all. It was a guy with black curly hair, around my age, wearing a bright orange T-shirt. And for some reason he was smiling."Hey there," he said cheerfully. "How's it going?""What is your problem?" I snapped, rubbing my elbow."Problem?" "You just slammed me into the wall, asshole."He blinked. "Goodness," he said finally. "Such language."I just looked at him. Wrong day, buddy, I thought. You caught me on the wrong day."The thing is," he said, as if we'd been discussing the weather or world politics, "I saw you out in the showroom. I was over by the tire display?"I was sure I was glaring at him. But he kept talking."I just thought to myself, all of a sudden, that we had something in common. A natural chemistry, if you will. And I had a feeling that something big was going to happen. To both of us. That we were, in fact, meant to be together.""You got all this," I said, clarifying, "at the tire display?""You didn't feel it?" he asked."No. I did, however, feel you slamming me into the wall," I said evenly."That," he said, lowering his voice and leaning closer to me, "was an accident. An oversight. Just an unfortunate result of the enthusiasm I felt knowing I was about to talk to you.”

“You just looked..." she said, searching for the word, "taken, you know? Plus you hardly reacted to Wes. I mean, you did alittle, but nothing like most girls. It was a little swoon. Not a sa-woon, you know?"I said, "Sa-woon?Oh, come on," she said shaking her head. "Even a blind girl could tell he is amazing.”

“Yes,' he said, 'a list. That way, I figure, we'll have a written record of what we've agreed upon as our goals for our relationship. So if problems arise, we'll be able to consult the lists, see which issue it corresponds to, and work out a solution from there.'I could still hear my sister talking, but her voice was fading as she led her group around the house. I said, 'But what if that doesn't work?'Jason blinked at me. Then he said, 'Why wouldn't it?' 'Because,' I said.He just looked at me. 'Because...''Because,' I repeated, as a breeze blew over us,' sometimes things just happen. That aren't expected. Or on the list.''Such as?' he asked.'I don't know,' I said, frustrated. 'That's the point. It would be out of the blue, taking us by surprise. Something we might not be prepared for.''But we will be prepared,' he said, confused. 'We'll have the list.' I rolled my eyes. 'Jason,' I said.'Macy, I'm sorry.' He stepped back, looking at me. 'I just don't understand what you're trying to say.'And then it hit me: he didn't. He had no idea. And this thought was so ludicrous, so completely unreal, that I knew it just had to be true. For Jason, there was no unexpected, no surprises. His whole life was outlined carefully, in lists and sublists, just like the ones I'd helped him go through all those weeks ago. 'It's just...' I said and stopped, shaking my head.'It's just what?' He was waiting, genuinely wanting to know. 'Explain it to me.'But I couldn't. I'd had to learn it my own way, and so had my mother. Jason would eventually, as well. No one could tell you: you just had to go through it on your own. If you were lucky, you came out on the other side and understood. If you didn't, you kept getting thrust back, retracing those steps, until you finally got it right.”