I was ten, she was nine. We did not ride on horses made of sticks. I watched her from the distance, looking forward to those delicious twenty seconds a day I devoured her vision with guilty joy.
That year my class had a two-day end of term field trip. My best friend and I were put on the same cabin with some other three or four girls I felt quite partial about. I remember that night, coming back from dinner she and I sat on the little cabin porch and started talking about nothing. Well, she did. As usual, I'd rather do the listening.
My thoughts had already drifted a bit, gone to the safe place they were most used to go these days, which was to her. The nine-year-old that seemed so much younger than me, only a fifth grader. My friend had gone quiet for a moment and started talking with a tint of embarrassment. She rapidly confessed to me that she thought she might like this boy from our class. Something in my mind just finished connecting the dots.
'Fuck. So, we're supposed to like boys already and I have to be the weirdo in yet another thing. And it has to be at this. Fuck.'
That year my class had a two-day end of term field trip. My best friend and I were put on the same cabin with some other three or four girls I felt quite partial about. I remember that night, coming back from dinner she and I sat on the little cabin porch and started talking about nothing. Well, she did. As usual, I'd rather do the listening.
My thoughts had already drifted a bit, gone to the safe place they were most used to go these days, which was to her. The nine-year-old that seemed so much younger than me, only a fifth grader. My friend had gone quiet for a moment and started talking with a tint of embarrassment. She rapidly confessed to me that she thought she might like this boy from our class. Something in my mind just finished connecting the dots.
'Fuck. So, we're supposed to like boys already and I have to be the weirdo in yet another thing. And it has to be at this. Fuck.'
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