Crushes

I had two very distinct crushes that first year. I was shy and awkward and I never would have dreamed of acting on these thoughts. I wasn't that girl, I didn't know how to flirt yet and looking back now, I realize that I probably shouldn't have known how. Even though I'd come from a school where girls my age were already sneaking around with boys and some were even already sleeping with them...the idea of even kissing a boy made my throat close up and my stomach tighten so much I thought I'd keel over.

The first crush: Mike. He was friends with my brother and a year older then me. Friends with my brother = bad boy. I'd sit in my room and wait until I knew he was in the living room, I would then make an excuse to go out and talk to my brother. I'd perfected this, or so I thought, over the years. My brother had no shortage of friends, some of which I liked more then others. Looking in the mirror before leaving my own bedroom had become habit. Checking my hair and my makeup, seeing if my shorts were just short enough and my tank just low enough. I wasn't one of those girls that had the body of a 16 year old. I, sadly, had the body of a 12 year old so there really wasn't much to show off.

All of my friends knew about my crush, he was cute and bad...and the kind of boy your mother told you to stay away from. Of course, not my mom. My mom was the one that told me for as long as I could remember not to settle down, to date around, to explore my options.
I went to my locker one day at the end of the day and opened my locker to find notes and streamers and signs inside with hearts and Mike's name all over them. My face turned bright red instantly and I again cursed my pale skin and Irish heritage for giving me away. I slammed the locker shut, looking around to be sure that nobody had seen. Everyone seemed lost in their own hustle and bustle of getting out of class that it seemed I was in the clear. I tried to open my locker a tiny bit to get my bag and my books without anyone noticing. Mike walked by, he smiled at me and said hi. I almost died, my whole body resembling a lobster at this point only to see my friends off to the side holding their sides from laughing so hard.

I don't know what happened to Mike. Our middle school was 7th and 8th grade, so the following year he was in the high school and at some point he and my brother stopped hanging out. It was probably for the best, really.

Phil: Phil was in my class. He was mysterious and polite but again, kind of a bad boy. I didn't know a lot about him, but he lived in my neighborhood and I'd sometimes get to sit by him on the bus. On the rare occasion we ended up in the same seat, I'd sit there silently trying desperately to think of something to say...and when I did, I generally would wish I could take it back.
My friends and I had a nickname for Phil, which was PopCorn. We thought we were so clever. Of course I realize now that everyone probably knew what/who we were talking about, but at the time, it seemed like the best thing ever.
We'd spend hours in my room, talking about Phil and Bryan, the boy Katie was crushing on. We'd talk hypotheticals about 'going out' and about kissing boys. Swapping stories of first kisses, of course mine was fictional because I couldn't admit that I hadn't had my first kiss. That seemed like the worst thing in the world. I mean, everyone else had kissed someone and since I was the new girl, I had the luxury of making up a story that seemed believable. I'd kissed a boy while at a wedding, he was 16 and we danced all night while he slipped me glasses of wine. Now, that part of the story was true....but in my version, he kissed me before we left. I had to drive home with my mom and my grandparents, my grandma insisting that he had his hands on my butt while we danced. I claimed he did not and then pretended to sleep the rest of the way home. I most certainly was not discussing where anyone had their hands with my mother and my grandparents!