The Importance of Chocolate Milk

I ran out of chocolate milk. That's how it happened. If I had to pinpoint the exact moment in time that would be it. Running out of chocolate milk was the Big Bang that shaped my universe, a universe that didn't have the Sun at the centre...but a girl. A girl named Rosianna O'Connell.

I normally ask my mother to pick up two cartons of Nesquik chocolate milk on her way to work every Saturday. Two cartons mean ten litres, which is more than enough to satisfy my ravenous teenage stomach. However, my mother got called out on an emergency visit to Mr Forester's house, who is an extreme hypochondriac that seems to have a panic attack every other day. She works as a health care nurse. She gets called out to Mr Forester a lot. (I have this theory that one day no one will believe what he says is wrong with him and then the next day there will be no more Mr Forester.) The point is I couldn't ask my mother to pick up any chocolate milk.

When I went downstairs two at a time to account for my gangly legs, I was careful to skip the step fourth to the bottom that can either sound like a mouse being brutally murdered or a particularly loud fart. In the kitchen I didn't find my glass of chocolate milk waiting for me.

I checked the fridge.
I checked the cupboard.
Was I desperate enough to check the bin? No.

Taking £2.53 from my dad's wallet that he had kindly left out on the counter instead of taking it to work with him, how convenient, I opened the pumpkin-coloured door and made the small journey down to the corner shop. Teenage boys, by definition prefer to stay indoors playing video games rather than brave the cold outdoors, so this wasn't a pleasant exercise for me.

It was one-hundred-and-eighty-seven steps to the corner shop.
Within the first fifty steps you come across a vast park, with miles of luscious green fields stretching out to the horizon. It's a nice place to watch the sunset, if I'm feeling romantic, or to just think about the mundane things that float into teenage brains. I spend a lot of time thinking. I spend a lot of time counting; that's how I knew how many steps it was from my house to the corner shop. My brain works best with numbers - they're a universal language that anyone can understand.

As I walked, a strong breeze propelled me forward. I counted the number of ripples that I could see stretching across the gigantic duck pond the park is home to. The birds, only with minds for food like I had a mind only for chocolate milk, dived under the water causing little waves to form across the surface. Ripples are like actions, I thought, each one growing as another one is formed, so that it's not just a small section of water the ripples are effecting, but the whole pond.

On my 93rd step, with my head still filled with rippling water, I collided with a flowery wall. The flowery wall wasn't a flowery wall, in fact, it was a girl. Sweet mother of the world, was it a girl. I'd never seen anyone like her before.

I was staring into the turquoise eyes of Aphrodite. If I looked directly at her I'd be blinded by beauty.

"Schiesse!" she shouted in a voice so silvery it could have belonged to a fairy...though I don't think a fairy would be able to curse in a different language. "My German literature!"

"What?" I coughed as I backed away from the girl, mortified that I'd just bumped into her. Agility wasn't exactly my forte - I'm not the most athletic of people; I drink ten litres of chocolate milk.

"MY POETRY" she flapped her arms around her body, a wild look in her doe eyes.

 "You're still not making any sense" I mumbled.

 "What? You bumped into me, you idiot! I was carrying a small bunch of papers, I dropped them and-" she twisted her head side to side, scanning the pavement for the missing documents. "Shouldn't you be apologising to me now?" The girl's voice rose a few octaves with each exclamation.

 "I didn't mean to walk into you, I was distracted by the...never mind" If I started blabbering on about ripples and ducks she'd think I was mad, if she didn't already. "Please accept my sincerest apologies" I gave a little bow.

"It's funny how I don't think you mean it" she gave a soft laugh, as clear as a bell, shaking her head so soft strands of long blonde hair fell into her heart shaped face.

Was I staring at her? Maybe.

"Well?" she said, tapping her foot against the pavement. I noticed she was wearing beige pumps with hand-painted swallows flying around the side. So she was stunningly beautiful and artistic? Would it have been too forward to propose to her right then?

"Stranger boy?"

"Um...yes, stranger girl?"

"Are you going to help me find my papers or not? They're very important to me and since they're gone because of your clumsiness-"

I cut her off before she could continue to belittle me. "I'll gladly help you." Now chocolate milk was the last thing on my mind.

The girl started walking towards the hedgerow that lined the park. Like a gazelle being chased by a lion, she leaped gracefully over the hedge.
"I think I saw one go this way" She pointed towards the duck pond a few metres from where she was standing. Her floral print dress ruffled in a slight gust of wind, the pink and orange fabric waving like real flowers in the breeze.
"What are you waiting for, an invitation?"

Like a giraffe being caught by a lion I toppled over to her side of the hedge. Together we walked towards the pond where a solitary sheet of white was floating as delicate as a lily on the top of the water.

"What's your name?" I asked, trying to sound friendly and casual but scared the question sounded ominously creepy. I wasn't the most experienced when talking to girls. I think the last interaction I had with one that wasn't related to me was when Daisy Alan asked if she could borrow a pencil last year. Did that count as a conversation since I only passed her the pencil and didn't say anything?

"I shouldn't talk to strangers" she replied.

"You shouldn't ask them to recover water-damaged pieces of German literature either"

"Touche" I caught her sneaking a sidelong glance at me as I hunted for the perfect stick to act as a fishing rod.

"My name's Mark" I said, looking expectantly at her as I put the stick in the water and began to fish.

"Rosianna"

"Nice to meet you"

"I don't know about that. You knocked me over then caused me to lose precious translating material? That's not my definition of nice"

I didn't know how to reply, so changed the subject; a tactical move I'd learnt from my father whenever my mother talks of bill payments. "Why are you translating German poetry?"

"To prove that German is capable of being beautiful" Rosianna had a far off look in her eyes as she spoke. She was seeing the world differently to everyone else, in a way that nobody else could understand.

"That's deep" I smiled, wanting to make her understand that I also believed in a world that was larger than just us in one look.

"That's me"

My makeshift fishing rod caught on the paper; I reeled it in.

"I want to make a mark on the universe, Mark" Rosianna was still in her dream world. She took hold of the soaked poetry that I was holding out to her.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not as much as me" She sighed like the weight of the world, or at least the German language was on her shoulders. That was it. I loved her. I might have only known her name but her words were filled with so much hope and determination that I had no doubt of her capability to save the world, one poem at a time.

She wasn't just Rosianna. She was a German translator. She appreciated poetry and how anything can be beautiful. She had intelligence, artistic ability and most importantly...my heart.

If I hadn't of have run out of chocolate milk I would have never gone outside, never been distracted by the ripples and so would never had bumped into her. That's the importance of chocolate milk; without it I would never have found Rosianna.

"Here" she said, handing back the poetry. "I've got a billion more copies of this at home"

"Is this my cue to go home?" I tried my best not to look too disappointed as she started to walk away.

"No, silly we've still got twelve more sheets to find!" Rosianna started to run, laughing as the mischievous wind flew through her hair, leaving me only one option: follow her.