The Right Time
By Gia, age 16, Florida
She stays up every night until the same hour, waiting for you to show up at her window.
Anxiously she waits to hear your boots or sneakers crush the grass underneath.
To feel your hand against the screen.
"Hope," she says, "He'll come back. I can feel it."
To stare into your eyes one more time, and to see the faint hint of a 5 o'clock shadow.
It's late and she has realized that you aren't coming to visit her.
She blows out the candles,
"Happy Valentine's Day, my love," she says,
and turns off the overhead light.