Nobody knows, but Romeo's on the Spectrum

TW: Suicide

Two households, both alike in dignity. Along the fair Saskatchewan Prairies, we lay our scene. It’s not as flat as they say, you just have to go north. But it’s in the flat south where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the woes of adolescence, a pair of star-crossed lovers offer up their lives. Amongst pleas, the adults have heard enough. With his death, Romeo hopes to bury the strife. A fearful passage of death-marked love and the continuance of rage – which but marked their children’s end, naught could remove. What here was missed, my toil shall strive to mend it in the impending passages.

Scene 1

“Clean your room, Romeo!” Mother Teresa yelled out.

“Give me an hour…” Tiny Romeo mumbled.

“Now! You never listen!” Montague, my hot-headed step-father would yell.

I listened fine! I could hear my own heartbeat and thoughts. I listened when it made sense. Partway through a video game level wasn’t the ideal to clean my room.

“Eat your supper!” Mother Teresa would yell in other instances.

Family battles held in contention over many years. I hated green beans but couldn’t rid myself of the foul offerings. My parents would become garbage pickers in the pursuit to catch me throwing them out. I tried hiding them in my pants pocket but forgot and they were discovered during the next load of laundry.

Mother Teresa would say that she didn’t run a restaurant while she’d cut chicken breasts in half, filling them with the most archaic products. The logic was confusing like most things. She seemed to be cooking for a Michelin star. I only wanted plain chicken.

Montague would tell me of starving kids in Africa. Tiny Romeo would agree and say we could kill two birds with one stone by sending my beans overseas.

That’s a summary of most nights at home. What needless battles I wasn’t fighting at there, I was fighting at the daycare or eventually school. No one could pin point a problem. At the stem of it, there wasn’t one. I just had a beautiful brain that was wired differently.

I was a boy who loved music but often didn't care for the famous people. The Backstreet Boys were my favourite but that's what they were to me. 20 years later and I still don't know any of the band members names. They were just regular people who were popular. As far as N'Sync, I know Lance because people made a big deal about his coming out, and Justin for the obvious reasons.

I thought I could change the outcome of music videos though. Tiny Romeo's all-time favourite song; called "Peaches" by the Dead Presidents of America. It was entirely weird to me. The name they'd chosen for their band, that they sang an entire song about peaches, or even decades later me growing up and wondering what kind of peaches he was singing about. According to him, it really was about fruit. Even weirder.

Halfway through the music video, a bunch of Ninja's would jump out from the trees and start to attack the band. The band was just trying to get a lot of peaches from the country, maybe for their moms! I'd get really into the song when it came on, since back in the 90s, the choice to play any music you wanted wasn't as readily available in so many mediums.

I'd get so into the song, that I'd almost forget about the Ninja's. At the very last minute, I'd try to warn the band, "Look out! NINJAS!" But it was always too late! I would grow out of that myself. I'd come to understand the difference between reality and TV, but TV often made more sense than reality.

Abed from Community highlights the sentiment quite well, "I can tell life from TV, Jeff. TV makes sense, it has structure, logic, rules, and likeable leading men. In life, we have this. We have you,"

I had speech and hearing difficulties which were remedied but was never a focal point of discussion. I’d been two reading levels behind my grade 2 class. But once my speech and reading skills were put back into check, I went right passed my reading level. I had the same Grade 2 teacher my mother had, and even read the same books she had learned from. But once those became easy, I wasn't interested in fiction books.

It was hard for me to invest in books that weren't real and I often had troubles picturing where exactly we were. Everyone raves about Enders Game, but the beginning of that book only confused the crap out of me. I asked for an Encylopedia, but the school couldn't sign me one out, they only had one set of them. I opted to read the dictionary for reading time instead. The start of each letter is really boring.

By Gr. 3 I’d already been asking Mother Teresa why I was different from the other kids. The teacher noticed the hyperactivity and that prompted a professional who observed Tiny Romeo.

During a one-hour class, she observed that while I didn’t stop working - I got up, moved around, fidgeted, or disturbed another kid 67 times. I was sent for ADHD testing which had excited Tiny Romeo.

The testing looked like a video game and I was good at those, even better than my bullies! Maybe if I aced this test, I’d get some answers to my brain. I aced it alright. The psychologist indicated I just had ‘Mild ADD tendencies’. That made Tiny Romeo furious and I snapped at Mother Teresa after. I’d done so good, they dropped an H altogether!

Scene 2

Tiny Romeo was quickly attracted to girls and their smiles. I couldn't understand why boys thought they were gross. One in kindergarten had a beautiful smile so I played musical chairs trying not to be obvious until I sat beside her. She seemed to like art so I offered to let her use my 12 pack of crayons.

“No thanks,” and without looking, she pulled out the Holy Grail of crayons; a 64-pack equipped with a sharpener. I sat there admiring them but she wasn’t done. Next, she pulled out Mr. Smelly Markers and I lit right up. I couldn’t afford those! I asked to use them, but without looking at me she informed me she didn’t want them to dry out. I got the hint and receded to the outer belt of tables amongst other outcasts.

I’d get in trouble for everything. Unknowingly, I’d tap my pencil while listening to the teacher and someone would snap. Next, I’d start tapping my foot, “Quit doing what?” I’d asked confused.

“Tapping your feet! You’re just trying to annoy us, Romeo!”

I’d grow sad looking down and noticing my foot going. I wasn’t trying to annoy anyone…

By the time Tiny Romeo met Tiny Sydney, I’d somehow kissed two girls my age and one five years older. I dreaded Monday’s until I met her. I’d start racing through my sacred weekends just to see her again.

She’d stick up for Tiny Romeo. One time I laid on the ground, sun burning my sensitive eyes after having been ganged up on. “Have any of you ever had a girlfriend?” she asked to silence. Brave Tiny Sydney had walked over to help Tiny Romeo up. She shined in the sun as she blocked the rays, helping me up and brushing the dust off my shoulders. I leapt t0 hold her hand.

I still had to fight for her, for like most of my relationships, they'd form from a love triangle of sorts. I often seemed the better man and companion, but the girls seemed to like the attention that came with multiple guys chasing them.

I grew jealous, not wanting to share Sydney with the other boys. And one time I stomped away in a fit. She chased after me, but I didn't stop until I'd travelled past a hill to sit on the other side. She'd almost given up following me too, but came over the hill and sat beside. She asked what happened and I explained to her these intense feelings I was having. It started to rain, but before they called us in, she just leaned her head on my shoulder, holding my tiny hand.

Tiny Romeo was grateful to have her in my life but we were only a brief flicker. We cuddled under a blanket while watching a movie at the daycare. A weird, nerdy boy pulled the covers over as we started to Daycare Movie and Chill.

It wasn’t long before we were separated by adults, but all we could do was sneak glances back and forth while our small brains processed everything. She left shortly after and I blamed myself.

She’d have been my Goomah in Gr. 2 if she’d stayed. I started my first entrepreneurial enterprise. The school started offering Regular and Chocolate Milk at 50 cents a slurp. Supply never met demand and we’d often be denied at lunch, having only wasted out time.

I contemplated it and came up with a plan. I opened my piggy bank, a replica from Toy Story. The following Monday, I raised my hand before the lunch bell and asked to go pee. The line for milk opened five minutes before lunch began. I’d be one of first in line and back before class ended.

At break, we would be informed they had sold out before we reached the front. I pulled out a lone carton of Chocolate Milk from my jacket, popped the top, and started drinking it to the other kids’ bewilderment. I was always looking for special effect.

A bully asked how I obtained it. A magician never reveals their secrets! All I needed was an empty milk crate and I’d have been tall enough to reach a revolutionary status.

At first, I did what any noble revolutionary does; I gave the people what they wanted! The enterprise and power had been rewarding enough. But that work was hard, time wasn’t cheap, and I could get caught.

Next, I followed the natural course of a revolutionary; I had the people pay for my cause! For each milk I'd get them, the Milk Mafia received one. The kids grew addicted so I started a milk loan service. I’d keep the tabs in my brain and no one could exceed $2. I’d use this to reclaim milk during dry spells. Even I’d become addicted! But I ran the operation, so that was alright… right?

Tiny Romeo was feeding on the power adjustment, be-tiny-ed for so long. Now bullies wouldn’t lay a finger on me or they wouldn’t get Chocolate Milk!

One kid seemed to have an endless supply of cash. The kids questioned it and he told them he stole a couple dollars from his mom’s purse; she never noticed! The other kids followed suit but I didn't need to, they were already paying the Milk Mafia. I wasn’t concerned with getting payments of “dirty milk”, it all tasted the same to me.

The concession lady began to wonder about the amount of milk I was buying. Tiny Romeo made up a white lie and told her the teacher would let me go get milk for everyone if I finished all my classwork. She thought that was great while my teacher started to wonder about how regular I’d become. Must be the gross Red River Cereal the daycare force fed me for breakfast.

Greed also seeped into the bathroom sinks where Tiny Romeo would dispose of leftover contraband each day. Except one day I watched as profits spiraled down the sink instead of Chocolate Milk. I tried to transport some home and they lasted. Now I was bringing upwards of four Chocolate Milk cartons home each day.

I’d rub them in my bullies faces at daycare, proudly drinking them while they begged, like I had to to use their Gameboy. What I didn’t drink I would take home to enjoy during my favourite television show, Pokemon. Now the milk Mafia had expanded further than intended; out of the school, past the daycare, and into the family home. Suspicions started to rise.

Tiny Romeo had become good at hiding things though. I sucked my thumb until I was 12. I didn’t tell Mother Teresa about my self-awareness. There was one place a 7-year-old boy knew I didn’t want to end up. In an insane asylum wrapped up in a straight jacket, giving myself the longest hug ever.

It had been other kids stealing while I reaped the rewards, but the caretaker with family relations started to wonder if Tiny Romeo was stealing from Mother Teresa. We weren’t wealthy. The two cornered me at the daycare locker and I had 4 milks in my backpack. I knew the rouse was up and started to melt down. If the Milk Mafia disbanded, things would go back to normal!

I told Mother Teresa everything, including who was stealing from their parents. The bullying only increased after so we moved to my second school for the remainder of grade 2.

Scene 3

It was a lonely walk for Tiny Romeo so I gravitated towards video games. I’d get praise for my ability while only watching myself get better. At least when I wasn't getting bullied for playing them. I’d get a Gameboy Pocket and Pokemon Yellow.

Next, I received an N64 and Pokemon Stadium. I played it for months, wondering how my controller hadn’t broken from constant throwing on the ground. With hard work I could teach my Pikachu on Pokemon Yellow how to surf. It took a couple years, but I got it done. I was very proud of myself, having never met another person who had obtained one.

I met a group of boys at the new school in the town of Pile O’ Butts. One was weird, eccentric, and liked Pokemon a lot. It seemed like a match made it heaven. I found someone I could relate to. I'd found a best friend.

It helped that I became a local celebrity. With my cute voice, I became the spokes-child for Victoria Square Mall, voicing radio ads. At first I didn't want to share them even though Montague had gotten me recordings. I feared it would just give me another reason to be bullied. The ads received great response and I was offered a snowboarding package since they weren’t allowed to pay me. Montague didn’t think I’d like snowboarding and I received a gift certificate I couldn’t even afford a snowboard with.

I’d only be in Pile O’ Butts for Grade 2. Montague received a promotion in another city. The eccentric boy suggested we might see each other again, but I doubted it. Montague and Mother Teresa got married that summer and we moved to Saskatoon.

I spent an amazing summer with my Step-Grandfather, a retired minister. We’d take trips to Ruckers, Micky Dee’s, and Mini-golfing. I’d thought school had started when we moved there which made it extra special. I believed that while all the other boys were at school, I got to spend my days with Grandpa.

The arrangement fell through and Montague’s future in Saskatoon was unclear. Mother Teresa didn’t want me to have to start at a new school and have to move part-way. It was decided we’d move back, but not to Pile O’ Butts where I’d had some friends. We moved back to the city where I continued my lonely walk.

I was always curious and wanting to learn, even if I wasn’t a typical student and rarely got along with teachers. I’d still get called Teachers Pet or a geek. They were wrong! Geeks wore glasses and had overtly runny noses! I was a nerd; I just had the runny nose! It wouldn’t be long before young Romeo didn’t want to associate with that title either.

I met new bullies everywhere, my biggest being 4 years older than me and the babysitters son. I tried avoiding him which just left me open for a bully in my class. One night, Montague said something that surprised Tiny Romeo. “I don’t condone violence, but if the schools aren’t going to do anything about it, you’re going to have to stick up for yourself. Punch that bully square in the nose,” he said tapping the spongy part on mine.

A year had passed of bullying. As Tiny Romeo stood in the line for water, the bully came up and shoved me into the fountain. Then he grabbed me, swinging me around and pushing me into the lockers. I finally snapped, grabbing his neck like I knew wrestling and shoving his face into the locker. But I wasn’t finished. While he looked dazed, I squared up and socked him square in the nose. Now he was crying and bleeding!

Tiny Romeo smiled at the victory while other kids looked in shock and terror. One called me a monster. Another asked how I could be so mean. How had they forgotten that I’d been bullied everyday? The school wasn’t happy actually having a mess to clean up; A bloodied kid and his parents. I received an in-school suspension and further confusion on rules. ‘Zero Tolerance for Bullying’ only seemed to apply to me, the one getting bullied.

I tried remaining friends with that old friend from Grade 2 but he lived too far for me to see often. I went for a visit in Grade 4. We played Pokemon. He showed me max level Pokemon I didn’t know he’d cheated to get. He asked to temporarily trade for my surfing Pikachu, wanting to also complete his Pokedex. I’d be naïve for too long.

I traded my prized possession and got excuses in exchange when I'd ask for it back. It started with trying it out, then graciously leveling it up for me, and then his Gameboy died and he had no more batteries. I cried to Mother Teresa to figure it out, but like most things, she didn’t understand how important a few bits of data were. Everyone except me agreed I could get it back the next time. But I saw the smile on his face as I left, and he started dodging me like I suspected he would.

Scene 4

After the incident with the bully, nothing changed and we moved just before Grade 4 ended. My parents bought a house, and I could have gone to the same school, but there was one closer. We switched both schools and babysitters. Without constant people in Tiny Romeo’s life, I built my life inferences from Television, and you shouldn’t believe everything you see on there.

It seemed if you threw a raging party, all the kids accepted you. There was an open bar in the basement. I invited the bullies and a few ‘cool kids’ after school, knowing I’d never be left alone for a weekend.

I blasted music and provided snacks. Unknowingly, we created combat juice trying to make our presence less noticeable from each bottle. The party went off great, all the bullies thanked me for a good time. It went around the school and we agreed that we could do it better a second time.

We became bartenders at the second party, finding a tasty drink that mixed well with vodka. We drank fast and polished off Mother Teresa’s two-six. It wasn't long before the room started to spin as the magical effects of alcohol took over my tiny frame.

I pretended to freak out and told the boys that I’d forgotten my parents were coming home early. They freaked out, asking if I needed help cleaning up quick. I just needed them gone or I’d give them something else to talk about the next day.

I cleaned up between bathroom breaks and crawling to each destination. The basement looked good so I crawled up the stairs, somehow reasoning I needed food. I open a can of Alphagetti and ate it cold, the last can I’d ever eat. Next, I reasoned I needed sleep, so I laid down.

I’d done a good job cleaning downstairs but forgot an empty bottle of Polar Ice on the kitchen counter. When my parents came home, they got Tiny Drunk Romeo up for a talk. I didn’t hear much except “Actions have consequences,”. I felt mine.

Mother Teresa had already paid for a Home Alone course that started that night. I went but didn’t retain much dying from alcohol consumption. They didn’t tell me not to put unfinished bags of popcorn back in the microwave with a twist tie on! I dealt with that on my own! I passed the two-night course, but now my parents didn’t trust me enough to leave me alone. I remained at the babysitters. I also lost my Halloween privileges, a staple of my childhood.

It was the last consequence that echoed the loudest. I’d snitched even though I didn’t think other kids should get in trouble. I threw the party. They got in trouble, and all but one of the kids who hadn’t bullied me before, joined in now.

I’d try planning safe exits, but they’d cover more bases and doors. I just started to take it. They’d get bored and I could walk home crying, if I could hold it in that long.

It calmed down as winter rolled in. Instead of leaving, I’d wait inside until they got bored and cold, making excuses when teachers would inquire why I wasn't heading home. They just made things worse when they were included. As the cold increased, the bullying came to an end. But not before Tiny Romeo took a walk with Death.

I’d gone home after a good beat down, looked in the mirror, and wondered what was wrong with me. I cried, wanting the immense level of pain I felt to disappear. I gathered all the knives I could find and tried to cut my vein, wanting all the pain I felt inside to flow out onto the ground. But nothing was sharp enough to pierce the skin. I tried to find Montague’s big hunting knife. It could not be found that day, but would mock me later throughout life.

I’d grown tired after failure and went to sleep. I woke up, felt fine, and figured it was a fleeting moment. I didn’t bother to tell my parents, having started a cycle of further regression. They’d ask what was wrong, and I’d say nothing, remembering all the times I’d spoke and nothing was solved. Montague’s temper would flare and he’d say that something obviously was, or I wouldn’t be acting out.

I found my reprise in music, singing and dancing around. I loved to entertain and make people smile. Not a whole lot about life made sense to young Romeo. One minute a band was popular, and the next it wasn’t. Sometimes mainstream was good, sometimes it wasn’t. I loved Nickelback no matter what people said. I’d sneak Montague’s copy of Silver Side Up and listen to it on a grey portable CD player. One of the songs resonated with me about Bio-Dad.

Overnight success didn’t make sense. If I got famous overnight, all my bullies’ attitudes would change. The concept was stupid, people should just like me for me. I used the idea to deal with the heaviness of life. I’d close my eyes, and imagine all the people I needed to listen were in the audience.

The song that started it was "White Flag" by Dido. The lyrics always confused me. I couldn't tell if she was saying "ship" or "shit". I told Mother Teresa once that Mrs. Morriestte had sworn in her song, but mother told me I'd just heard wrong. In the end, I'd taken a love song, and repurposed it as a suicide song. I wasn't going to wave the white flag, I was going to go down with my ship. Or shit.

My imaginary world needed to make sense though. I reasoned I found a magical lamp that contained a Genie who’d grant me three wishes (because apparently Genies were real or something).

The first wish was for a magical notebook. Any song/artist I wrote was erased from people’s minds. My realities still dealt with probability. I didn’t want to risk being called a fake in my fake reality. I loved all types of music, so for my second, I wished for the ability to sing and perform any piece of music I wanted.

Actions had consequences though. For my final wish, I wished the artists received no negative repercussions. There music provided me so much, after all. Like most things, I knew this was weird as crap. I probably shouldn’t tell anyone.

I also found that you could buy friends. I stole $20 from Mother Teresa’s purse and proved the TV didn’t lie after all! I always forgot the ending to those shows. I started taking cigarettes from Montague for my anxiety-filled trips to 7-11 after hours. Just one of many coincidences, I came out the womb 7 pounds, 11 ounces.

It was within that anxiety filled haze I learned the reason people smoked. I inhaled chemicals, and exhaled anxiety. That came to an end quicker than stealing the money. I was a cute Tiny Romeo after all, who’d expect a thief? It made me sad to steal, but the benefits far outreached the possible grounding. I’d stolen $60 by the time I got caught.

While the stealing came to an end, I’d formed a right of passage for the evil act. I was becoming something that could further not be described. I had nothing more to offer them, but very few went back to bullying. I just had four main bullies to deal with. Year by year, diminishing in quantity. But I also met a hero.

Scene 5

Tiny Romeo had been getting bullied by a much bigger, older kid when I first started at this fourth school. Someone came to my rescue as I sat on a log, just calling out to be bullied.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Calvin said with his thumbs to his ears, wiggling them back and forth mockingly. From that point, a friendship was formed that blossomed into best friends.

Calvin taught Tiny Romeo how to deal with bullies. If they couldn’t catch you, they couldn’t beat you up. “It’s okay to run away?” I asked, “Only chickens run away,”. But he told me it was probably better to be a chicken that ran away, than one cooked for dinner. That made sense. “Run Tiny Romeo, Run,” Calvin whispered.

Calvin didn’t just teach Tiny Romeo, he helped me become a Little Romeo. One with a bit more strength. But I always knew I couldn’t rely on him to fight all my battles; I’d have to learn somehow.

***

Mother Teresa and Montague asked Tiny Romeo what I wanted to be when I grew up. I’d wanted to be an astronaut, but reasoned by Grade 6 that not many people actually went to space. A brain-reality played and I wasn’t happy sitting at ground control, asking how it was up there. I needed a new dream.

I wanted to help people. “I want to study viruses… Cure the Common Cold!” I said wide-eyed. Lots of people got it, that’s why it wasn’t called the Uncommon Cold. I could help lots of people! Montague suggested I wanted to be a Microbiologist. Micro? Tiny like me? And I instantly knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I’d always had a logical, literal brain. Reading Tuck Everlasting in Grade 6 was a disaster. I started my journey of not sleeping. I’d lay there and wonder what the purpose of everything was. I reasoned if I lived forever, that would be a terrible fate. To watch everyone pass on. To learn everything and have nothing to do. But life was too short to learn everything I wanted to! It would scare me and I’d cry myself to sleep.

Scene 6

Little Romeo’s love life was a mess. The girls expected me to make the plans. What did they want to do? Sit around and play video games while consuming absurd amounts of sugar? I didn’t think so and would stress over it. We only seemed to have kissing in common. I couldn’t even figure out where the girls were coming from and reasoned it must have been my Rockstar hair. It certainly couldn’t have been my weirdness.

I’d entered the new school and was introduced to a stereotypical group of popular girls. A trio of them and they were legendary. Articuno was the cold one of the group; up until my acts of thievery, she wanted nothing to do with me. Zapdos was the erratic one of the group; she electrified the atmosphere and got everyone going. And than there was Moltres; Calm, collected, with a fiery instinct.

I asked Calvin what grade she was in, me being in grade 4 at the time. She was only a grade older and my eyes popped out. She was endowed to say the least. Where did they come from? Would my growth spurt happen overnight like that?! The slow game certainly wasn’t indicating that it had been working.

Calvin went over to inform Moltres I had feelings for her. She smiled at Tiny Romeo as I blushed. She had a beautiful, warm, and inviting smile. Why hadn’t the other boys noticed that?

The other boys would inform me I had no chances with the most popular girl at the school. They didn’t have to tell me that, I already knew! I was in the peewee league, while she was repping for the NHL. We were playing entirely different sports! I wasn’t in one of those weird boy movies, this was real life! Still, I’d say, “watch me,” accepting a challenge. This would keep me busy.

I’d been looking for a fairytale like love, but reasoned I was too young for it; things kept ending for reasons out of my control. I met one girl who hit me pretty hard, but she started sticking up for me, like Sydney.

Sarah left my shoulder bruised for days, but Little Romeo didn’t have the heart to tell her she was inflicting bodily harm on my frail body. I also reasoned she must be putting my bullies in their place. I asked her to go to the school dance with me, an official date.

A magical night for Little Romeo. Something felt different and I knew I had to walk her home after. It was midnight when we left the school and I needed to know she’d get home safely. As we walked, my arm around her, she informed me she was moving. Like others, she hinted at the possibility our story wasn’t over, but I knew it was.

I looked sad as she offered words of wisdom; there was nothing we could do about it, so we had better just make this a night to remember. That boy couldn't forgot. We rolled around on the grass outside her friends’ house kissing, laughing, looking deeply at each other. One last kiss before parting ways.

I started to cry on my way home. I started to wonder if I felt ‘bigger’ than other boys. The smiles, the cuddles, the love and passion, commitment. It had only been a month with Sarah, but took me just as long to get over it.

Other girls would confuse me. I bumped into one at the fair and we hit it off so she invited me into her group. After 3 hours of flirting and holding hands, it came out over lunch she was dating a guy in the group. I was shocked since she'd informed me she was devout with Christ. If she lacked values and morals, what hope was there? Not to mention her boyfriend had been there the entire time. No wonder he looked sad.

I met a girl online through a mutual friend and we agreed to go on a date at the fair a year later, the day my self esteem came crashing down. She took one look at me, froze, and ran away. I was stranded, alone. Mother had just dropped me off and she wasn't coming back to pick me up, as by now, we'd moved again back to Pile O' Butts for my high school.

I got into another relationship a few days before Christmas and went hard on the special day, always envying those that got to celebrate them. It was already rocky a few days after so I wasn’t going to bother with a Happy New Years.

Instead she called me up an hour before the ball dropped, saying we had to talk. She’d made a mistake, cheated on me with another guy and had felt terrible ever since. I’d reasoned she was really just upset that the other guy had used her, while not realizing she was using me. She promised it would never happen again and I agreed. I wasn’t going to give it a second chance to happen.

I started another relationship before I went away to British Columbia to visit my favourite aunt and uncle, the summer after Grade 7. They’d given Tiny Romeo chocolate cake and Pepsi for breakfast when I visited at age 5. I was hoping for a vacation away from chaos, but found an unpaid summer job and anxiety over a girl I just started dating.

I told her two weeks wasn’t long and the distance would only make for a special reunion. I'd saved up and purchased a Nintendo DS hoping to utilize the online features and keep in contact. My uncle informed me I wasn’t there to play video games, so no WIFI password. After a week, I couldn’t stand the anxiety.

He had a laptop and I figured the WIFI code was saved on there. I found where he kept it and took it to my room where I messaged a girl. Within minutes I received one back; she’d moved on to another boy. While I didn’t have feelings invested, I was pretty distraught that it had only taken a week.

Mother Teresa had no clue about my love life, figuring my first date was one she drove me to in Grade 7. When I wasn’t bumping into girls, they’d somehow find me on MSM Messenger. I laughed at the idea it was my first date, but the meeting turned into a mess.

She tried hard to be exactly like me. Thus, our conversations lacked substance as she didn’t have answers to questions she should have if she really was a fan. I yawned to let her know I was checking out and she looked over at me longingly. I liked the kissing part, so why not?

Immediately I was taken aback by a foul smell. I'd been told I had cleanliness problems, but girls? They weren’t supposed to smell bad. I didn’t know what to do and freaked out; I couldn’t tell her she stank quite dank.

Mom refused to pick me up so I just had to wait while a girl was confused on my lack of sudden interest. I didn’t know what to say so I later tried a cliché I’d heard, “It’s not you, it’s me,”. While it was true, it didn’t land any better than my normal approach to language. That only infuriated her and she told Little Romeo that I was like all the other guys. I’d had it up till that point. It takes two to kiss!

And in between I flirted with all the girls even if I had no intentions. I’d looked at 100 guys chasing one girl, and 100 girls not receiving that level of attention. Young Romeo couldn’t have known I was being a heart-breaker, I just wanted to make them smile.

I had a .001% chance of catching a legendary bird. Masterballs were hard to come by and I only had tiny Pokeballs. I’d psych myself up in the morning; today was the day I said something more than “hi…!” Except as soon as she’d smile, I’d forget the English language. I’d mumble and stumble my way off to class.

Calvin came up to Little Romeo as I played football at the start of Grade 7 and said Moltres liked me. I told him that he was crazier than me! All I’d managed to do was draw weird boy pictures for her in vibrant pastel crayons and say “Hi…” Everything in between was missing. The things that came easier with other girls.

He rushed backed shortly after to say he wasn’t kidding, she wanted to kiss me. All I had to do was go to the swings. That made even less sense. Now we were skipping everything and going straight to kissing. This had to be a rouse, but there was only one way to find out.

I walked over and very briefly gained an ounce of suave, “So I heard you wanted to kiss me?” I said smiling, still waiting to wake up from the dream. She smiled big, leaned over, and kissed the weirdest boy at the school on the cheek. I brimmed with emotion and made an “eek!” sound. Wait… Was I a geek?

Oh snap! I’m in the .001% reality! I hadn’t bothered to form a game plan which had seemed futile. In fact, I might be subconsciously chasing far out of my league to prevent something forming and getting hurt. My brain went from zero-to-sixty. The boys and I would often ride down her street acting like it was on our way. One night after the kiss she was out front. I hit the brakes and skid up beside her. A weird boy trying to act hard.

She smiled and said hi. I responded but couldn’t be bothered with her for once, just two boys fighting on the grass. One was very fit and had history with Moltres. I reasoned they were quite literally fighting over her and I started wondering if we’d even work out. I had an early bedtime; she was free spirited. I’d try to defend her honour, but know I’d get beat up. A brain-reality formed where she walked away laughing at my weakness. I wished Moltres a good night, the last one.

Two years chasing a girl, had turned into two weeks of brain annihilation. I couldn’t see a forever thing and wanted to avoid the hurt. I didn’t think my nerdy anxiatic brain could entertain her. As soon as the talking had come easy, the rest was a mess.

Not long after, Calvin asked if I wanted to go down her street but I didn’t care, I only had a toe in. I surveyed the streets but Moltres wasn’t outside. Instead, I trailed off into the parking lane. I found the back of a tent trailer. My pelvis reeled forward into the handle bars, chest impaling the metal frame of the trailer, and head bouncing off the top.

When I came to, Calvin was laughing and I started laughing to. I knew we were laughing at different things. He was laughing that I’d ran into the trailer over a girl. I was laughing because I’d somehow knocked the feelings out of me at the same time, reasoning this was entirely too much work and stress.

I stopped chasing Moltres and she became confused; she’d just kissed the weirdest boy in front of the school after all. She confronted Little Romeo on my way home after school and sadly asked what was up. I explained it as best I could, but she didn’t understand. I told her I had to go, knowing if she started to cry, I was going to sacrifice myself.

She was a year older and in grade 8 by this point. The idea of us being together was far too movie-like. That the most popular, currently most beautiful girl went off to high school and still maintained a relationship with that weird boy in grade 8 seemed less likely. I figured she’d have given it %100, but figured the odds were far stacked against us. Like other kids, I didn’t want her to get bullied or lose her status for being with the weirdest boy on the east side.

Young Romeo could only see myself. I cared for everyone, but was unable to see how I appeared self-absorbed. How unfair I was for not giving her a fair say in my anxieties. I’d just walk away, feeling it was better for everyone in the end.

I saw Moltres one last time in my Grade 8 year. I wanted to go to high school across town for Forensic Science. I was convinced I was going there no matter what Mother Teresa said. I wasn’t happy surveying a local high school in the area. I went angry, at least until I walked through the middle of school and saw her. She recognized me.

She looked a little sad. The possibilities for why were endless. Was high school taking her for a ride? Was she losing her identity from elementary? Did she miss that weird boy and my cute pictures? Did she wonder what that weird relationship looked like and was just wanting a little cutie to hold her tight, and then kiss her passionately? I just prayed to a god I was slowly growing away from that she was alright, and that high school would be good for her. I was going to need a new legendary bird though.