I had my first girl crush in the 5th grade. I was ten going on eleven. I was the new kid in school and I’ve never seen such arrogant kids released into a zoo-like charter. The girl and I quickly became friends and I thought nothing more of it in the beginning. Her name was Elysa.
On the first day of school, Mrs. Allen asked her to show me around the school. “That’s the restroom. That’s the cafeteria. Oh, and those are the bushes”, she joked. I thought nothing significant of our friendship, but something lured me in. I liked black shoes at the time, but wore my white Skechers because Elysa had the same pair but in blue. This is exceptional, I thought. I refused to wear my black shoes for weeks. Elysa always wore her hair up and I hated tying my hair. Scrunchies were a thin boundary between cold necks and liberated hair. But I dealt with it and tied my hair up, no matter how strong the winds were blowing. Before uniforms were enforced, Elysa liked to wear Capri pants. She often rolled up the sleeves of her jeans and kept them at her knees. And I, I did the same. I was a big fan of holes in the sleeves for my thumbs, and when Elysa saw my sweater, she was hooked as well. She’d ask to borrow my Guess sweater, and of course, I’d let her. During class, we’d share the Webster’s Dictionary set she brought from home. And the other students would have to use the crappy school dictionaries. We’d use tally marks to count down how many more minutes are left in school. It was a daily routine.
I knew nothing was going to happen, and I liked it that way. I was content of nothing happening.
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