I propped two pillows on the wall then cracked the book’s spine. There was no need to switch on a light as it was a Sunday afternoon. The blinds were up and the window was open, letting in faint sounds of traffic. I leaned my back against the pillows and stretched my legs on top of the sheets.

After a couple pages, my back, shoulders, and forearms burned. I took one pillow and placed it flat on the bed then slid my whole body down. Everytime I turned a page, I turned my whole body: my left cheek was in sync with the front cover, my right cheek with the back cover. I wondered if anyone else did this. I imagined a sped up video from a bird’s eye angle of myself rolling back and forth, back and forth.

I was reading Order of the Phoenix: where Harry is trying to get with Cho Chang. I skimmed the descriptions. The castle, robes, someone’s nose, blah blah blah — I just wanted to know what happened with Harry and Cho.

I started thinking of Mia, a girl I loved. Whatever I did at lunch, I was always checking on where she was. I acted different when she was close: trying harder in basketball, laughing louder, making sure the conversation wasn’t stupid, etc.

At a party, we were playing truth-or-dare. She got dared to sit on my lap for 20 seconds. I got sweaty and hoped she didn’t notice. Her friends laughed. She told them it was better me than some other guy–at least I was cute. I pretended not to hear and walked away before I could ruin anything.

One night, she messaged me on MSN. We were in the same gym class. She was wondering if we had to bring the ski trip forms tomorrow. I said we did. I asked her if she was going. I stared at the conversation window for 5 minutes, waiting for her response. She said “Yeah!” and then said “Thanks! :)”. It took me longer to fall asleep that night.

What if I were to die? I imagined the funeral, everyone around my grave, my mom on the coffin. The news flashed an old picture of me. The principal held an assembly and my teachers and friends gave speeches about how special I was. Everyone was crying–especially Mia. For the rest of her life, she was miserable. She confessed to her friends that she loved me and regretted never telling me.

I read a sentence in the book. I didn’t understand it. I read the last paragraph. I had no idea what was going on. I flipped back to find a part I remembered. More descriptions. I flipped forward to see what was going to happen with Harry and Cho. Nothing happened. Nothing happened with Harry and Cho that chapter.

Mom called me. I put the book down, shot my miniature basketball at my miniature net, then bounded down to the kitchen. My dad, from the living room, told me to stop jumping on the stairs– I was going to break them. “Yes”, I said. Then paused. “Sorry”, I said. He didn’t say anything. Mom handed me a bowl of sliced apples. I held the bowl in one hand and ate a slice with the other. The acidity tickled my tongue. As I walked upstairs to my room, my mom asked me what I was doing. “Reading”, I said. “Good”, she said. I closed the door, leaned some pillows on the wall, and sat up on my bed. I ate the last slice while resuming my reading. My finger, moist from the apple’s flesh, smeared the corner of the page. If I saw this page in the future, would I remember this moment? Just then, my muscles started to ache, and I slipped down with my cheek on the pillow and book cover on the bed. And once again, it was back and forth, back and forth.