My teacher, Mrs. Jones, is lecturing us about D-Day during World War II, but my mind is on other things. In fact I am thinking about who my future husband will be. My parents met each other in seventh grade Social Studies. Could this happen to me?

Looking around the room, I see Johnny on my left. I wonder "How could I marry him?" He's too involved in ice hockey practice every day because of his life goal to play for the Bruins. I can just picture myself reading the headline on the front page of The Boston Globe: "Johnny wins another for the Bruins." A color picture shows Johnny scoring the winning goal. I suppose he'll be too busy with his ice hockey to worry about supporting a family.

I turn to the right and see Andy, half asleep at his desk oblivious to what is going on around him. Wearing one red and one green sock with slippers, he'll never make it in the working world. I could never marry a space cadet. I can just picture Andy taking our kids to the museum when I asked him to go to the grocery store.

My parents think I should marry Timmy. They think we would be the best couple. Boy, are they wrong! Every day he teases me about one thing or another. His sarcastic words get under my skin, annoying me so much that I scream and yell to embarrass him. I couldn't marry someone who gets scolded by Mrs. Jones every day for fooling around and for forgetting to do his homework. I wonder if my father was like Timmy, teasing and bothering my mother, forgetting to do his homework and saying his little sister ate it.

Sitting next to Timmy is George, who is flirting with Gabrielle. Tomorrow he'll probably be flirting with Jaclyn, and forgetting about Gabrielle. I don't understand why other girls like him so much. Today his rumpled sweatshirt, covered with ketchup from lunch and his ripped blue jeans, make him look especially unattractive. Obviously he's not a suitable candidate.

My mom says "I didn't know I was going to marry your father back then." From the twinkle in her eyes, I know better. I wonder what my father looked like when he was twelve. I can just picture him, sitting next to my mom, day-dreaming about marrying her.

I hungrily look around the room, like a robin searching for a plump worm. Unsatisfied, I look out the window and into my heart, knowing my husband isn't here.

No one seems right for me, but I don't think I am being too picky. What I mean is I can't imagine that my future husband is just a few feet away. Before I marry, I shall see the world. I shall visit tropical islands and lie on beaches of golden sand, shaded by tall palm trees. I shall dive over breaking surf and float on the backs of rolling waves.

In search of my husband, I shall travel to Paris, and leisurely sip a refreshing pool of lemonade in an outdoor caf". My chair and I shall yawn in boredom, tired from searching for Mr. Right.

Suddenly a tall, handsome man shall appear from out of nowhere. Looking up at him, my heart skips a beat. His dark brown eyes glisten in the summer's sun as they meet mine. The man standing before me shall be the perfect husband and my search shall end here.