Mr. Desperate

Being carless after school one day last week, I was forced to wait for good ol' Grandma to pick me up. It turned out she wasn't the only one trying to do so. As I walked out to the parking lot, I heard just the end of a conversation between two underclassmen.
"Man, do you know anyone who's single?"
"Nah, not really."
"Dang. You gotta help me man, okay?"
"Yeah, whatever."
The helper left, leaving me alone with Mr. Desperate. I avoided looking up, and edged toward the farthest end of the pavement. God, please don't let him talk to me. Please, God....
I sat down on a step and stared hard at the stack of photography projects in my hands. I sensed him coming closer. Ick. Please just go away. Don't talk to me. Where are you, Grandma?
He reached me and crouched down to examine the photo at the top of the pile.
"Let me guess: you're in ceramics, aren't you?"
Let me guess-- you're in special ed!
I bit my tongue to keep from saying, "How did you know? Yes, ceramics. That's why I'm carrying all these clay pots and vases. Don't you just love the glazing on this one?"
Instead, I gave a polite "Nope."
"Oh." He didn't waste time.
"Are you dating anybody?"
"Yes." One more reason to thank God for Paul tonight.
But even this didn't end it.
"Well, do you at least have a cell phone?"
"No," I said, in a tone I was sure would end the whole exchange right there. But this little factoid (or non-factoid, I guess) only seemed to score me uniqueness points.
"Wow, you're like the only girl I know who doesn't have a cell phone."
"Hm." I saw Grandma's car rounding the corner, and quickly stood up and gathered my things. Once in the car, I cracked up. Ceramics?! So I guess I officially have a scary guy story, although he was probably more stupid than scary.