imberly Armstrong Coulter. I always thought she was the cutest girl in school. In 3rd grade, she and I stood before everyone in the library as finalists, nervous but competitive, for the class spelling bee. She beat me. In 7th grade, we were "going together". The extent of this was holding hands and maybe a slow dance. It would be another year before I had my first real kiss with Melissa Burkhead in the school locker room. Kim and I had a sickeningly cute game where she could twirl her finger in the direction of my eyes and I would feign being hypnotized, completely under her spell and at her command. It was an appropriate metaphor in hindsight, as she was simultaneously mesmerizing and continuously trumped me in academic competition. In high school, we ran in different social circles, but were in many of the same classes. In one, we stood together, alone again in front of a class room, as finalists for a speech contest. She beat me. A decade went by and I saw her for the first time since graduation, at our high school reunion. She crossed the room with a couple of her old girlfriends to say hi. She was all smiles and pretty as ever. She twirled her finger in my face and said, "Remember that?" I laughed and enjoyed the old joke with old friends, but inside I was incredibly flattered that she even remembered.