I’ve only seen Josh one other time since the last day of 7th grade.
Three years later, when I was sixteen, I was in Hilander picking up some groceries. I rounded a corner and saw him.
He was standing there – laughing and talking to a friend, holding a frozen pizza. He had shaved his head, developed muscles, and grown about a foot, but I still would have recognized him anywhere. His eyes were still the same, gorgeous ice blue.
After the initial shock, I practically fell over trying to get out of sight. I pushed my cart all the way to the end of the store and hid behind a cardboard display. My bladder loosened, and I felt the familiar knot of panic begin to grow in my stomach.
I waited there until I saw him check out and leave. Then I waited at least five more minutes before going back out to my car.
I haven’t seen him since.
Of course, I’ve googled his name. Tried to locate him now. I’m not really sure why. I don’t think I would ever contact him.
I guess I just want to know who he is now. And does he remember me?
I don’t know what would be worse – if he didn’t feel any remorse or if he didn’t even remember me.
Because, let me tell you, I’ll never forget him.