Sunday School by Christelle Xu

He held my hand. Miss Brinton wanted us to read over something in the scriptures during Sunday school while holding hands. And I'll admit, I played a little, but he played back. I grasped the strong hands, every time expecting them to recoil. But they didn't. Every time I grasped his hands, I felt the pressure on my fingertips; he was grasping mine. We were supposed to be turning to our favorite scripture. I turn to Kristina, kind of half distracted—actually completely distracted. I refused to look at him, though I had his scriptures on my lap. Kristina starts reading some verse in D&C. It's really warm. I keep wondering if he knows that people could be watching. I interlock my forefingers with his; knowing that act will end it, scare him away. But it doesn't. He holds mine, like a caress.

The fire crackles and burns strong as Miss Brinton reads the final page from Beloved. And then I wake up.

            Before this I'd dreamt that I was already in college taking courses and that our ward was intertwined with that of the universities. Elder Pond was eager to help with an assignment, he was a man of "Honor," as was posted on the bulletin board, along with a few other men, whose categories consisted of elite... and another I've forgotten. There was one point where as I go to see my teacher about my project, I pass the seminary students in my class. They were all eating meatball pizzas and I wanted a slice. All the while, the friend who stood by me changed from Christina (my cousin) to Katy, to Kristina (my friend.)

            I think what inspired the dream. (The first half anyway… the "honorary" and "elite" came from the bubble wrap game application on the iPhone. The initial high score postings were represented by rankings—I easily surpassed them)

            But today he striked me, more than one time. While in sacrament meeting, I looked up, saw him there and I distinctly remember seeing him grown up, as a matured adult. Call me weird, but there was a sort of refinement in him I have yet to see in most guys my age.

            The second time was during Sunday school. We were talking about the Ugly Duckling. It was some interlude into a lesson. Miss Brinton asked if anybody felt like an ugly duckling, and he raises his hand. I was shocked! I slipped out a what?! I just couldn't fathom it, just all around. This guy whose confidence overwhelms, who comes from a strong family. He's smart with a goal—he has a path and a passion. And he has the most striking blue eyes, my gosh. They can grab you and hold you for ages—which brings me to my last moment. I'd gotten very little sleep the night before, and I was sitting in the comfy chair. I leaned it back against... it's kind of the wall, but it's the hitch of the accordion wall. But the wall was open—you do the math. There's a rubbery part that I kind of played with.

            Anyway! As I lay back in my chair, I let my mind wander. Why I did that I don't know, but my eyes were drooping. I was trying, really, really trying to stay awake, my head was in rock star status, bouncing, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I looked to my right; I saw him and he was looking back, smiling at the silliness of the occurrence. It was kind of a knowing smile. His bright blue eyes pierced me. And oh how it made me smile.

            I just kept thinking about it.