Chapter 9: Nostalgia and a Stray

People are really cheap. When Little Shell was around, everything about her annoyed me, even that chubby guy annoyed me. Seeing them talking in front made me irritable, affected my studying. When buddies joked about me and Little Shell, I got mad. I wanted to make it clear we had nothing to do with each other.

Wanted to make a big poster to announce to the world we were just classmates. I even deliberately talked about my ideal type of girl when she came in, all the opposite of her. “Long hair, small eyes, big mouth, pointy face—”

Buddies frowned, asked if I was a weirdo, liked long-haired bull terriers. Little Shell had no expression, as if she didn’t hear. But I clearly saw her pull at her short hair when she sat down, uncomfortable.

But after she left, I suddenly found round things, short hair, small mouth all pleasing to the eye. Even the chubby guy, his “oh oh oh” sounded nice.

The classroom felt emptier without her, even the sound of Eddie’s “oh oh oh” made me weirdly nostalgic.

I had him tutor me, specifically those lessons Little Shell taught him, every step had to be included, even the interjections. After a while, the chubby guy started avoiding me, looking troubled. “Mike, I actually like… girls.”

“Get lost! Wait, come back, finish this problem… did you even pay attention, you missed a ‘let’s look here’—”

Maybe my brain got infected by Little Shell. On weekends going home, I saw a border collie sniffing at the 7-Eleven trash cans—its fur all patchy, just like Shellie’s bangs.

I called out: “Little Shell.” The skinny dog ran over, sniffed me, wagged its tail like crazy. I was nuts, always hated dogs, but found this one pleasing to the eye, took it home. Aunt Lisa looked at me in surprise: “Whose is it?”

“Mine.” I introduced it: “Called… Little Shell.”