Memoirs of a Kid

by Cuba Monkey 2 years ago in love

I. Part One: The First Blush

Memoirs of a Kid

It all started with that backpack. That damn backpack.

I remember walking through the H-building on my way to my studio art class. He walked in front of me and all I could see was that girly backpack on that boy’s back. I think it was Dora the Explorer or some other Disney figure. For a moment I thought about yelling out “I like your backpack” or something like that. And I know I should’ve. But it was one of my first days at this school and I don’t know…Looking back now, I would totally do it.

Anyways, I forgot about him. I mean, I remembered that backpack, but not his face in particular. Only that he was kinda cute.

So when I saw him a week later in the library, I didn’t recognize him at first. I probably wouldn’t even have noticed him, if he hadn’t had that look on his face. Or maybe it wasn’t even a special look. It was just the fact that he stared at me for a moment, letting his eyes wander over my body quickly and then looking me right in the eyes. If it wasn’t for that look, I might’ve never even thought about talking to him later. This look made me feel like there was something in the air. Like there was some sort of attraction. Like he actually liked what he saw. And that look. That little chance of he could possibly like me, made me fall.

Weird. I know. Dumb. Stupid. But hey, it wasn’t the first time. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only girl feeling that way.

So when I saw him standing just a few feet away from me at the football game some weeks later, I just had to. I would lie, if I said I didn’t hesitate. I stood there for at least ten minutes – or maybe less, but it felt longer – just thinking, if I should really do it, my eyes jumping from the field to him, back to the field, trying to concentrate – failing – back to him. So I did it. I went over to him, touching him slightly to get his attention. I don’t remember every little detail, or maybe I do, but I can’t write it all down.

“You are one of the boys, who wear those girly backpacks, right?” I’m pretty sure those were my exact words.

“Yes.” That smile, oh my God. And this one was only a small one. The bigger one was still to come.

“I just wanted to ask why you do that. I mean, it’s funny.”

I don’t remember the exact words he said, and it doesn’t really matter. I mean, I knew that it was a thing some senior boys did. But I acted as if I heard the words he said for the first time, just to talk to him.

Weird. I know. Stupid.

But it was worth it. Because of that smile, that laugh I got. Oh my.

And I think now he knows me. I regret not talking to him any longer. Not telling him how I wished we had boys who did stuff like that at our school. Not making him ask about me and where I am from. Not telling him my name.

But I think he remembers me anyway. At least I hope so. It seems so, but who knows. I feel like I’m not in the right position to judge.

Next thing I can remember clearly, and which is pretty big for me, even though it doesn’t include him, is talking to my friend about how I kinda think he’s cute. And her saying the following thing. “Oh my god, I can totally see that. I just pictured that. Oh my god, yes, girl.”

Maybe she was just being nice. Or she felt like she was supposed to say something like that, because she is my friend. But, as you might know, people with crushes tend to believe in the theories that sound better. So I just keep on believing that’s really how she felt and thought.

So by now, the little blush on my cheeks when thinking about him had turned into a major crush. And still, all I could do when I saw him on the party I went to a week later, was stare at him, without saying a word to him. When we got there, my friends and me, it was already a nice party with a few drunks, a few stoned ones and the rest left with a smile on their lips. I had my hopes up that he would be there.

Up, like one head smaller than me, so I could’ve looked down on them, when I would’ve seen them getting destroyed and not feel too much pity. Not higher.

So when I stood there, half listening to my friends’ conversation, half observing the place, when my eyes caught his now familiar face, my heart went faster. Really, I’m serious. For a second or two it just went wild. Then it kinda calmed down, not as calm as before, but ok, calm. I spent the night following my friend, but we kept on coming back to where he was. I was thinking about things I could’ve said to him. There were things. I just didn’t say them. I blamed it on the fact, that I never got a good chance of speaking to him alone. Or the fact that we went home pretty early so I didn’t get to. “But if we would’ve stayed longer, I would’ve done it.”

Yeah. Sure.

I still believe he saw me, even though he didn’t look at me straight away. But whatever.

In the following week I saw him walking towards me. All that stood between us was a door. He opened it and let me pass. Nothing more. A soft “Thank you” by me. And a mumbled “No problem” from him. Nothing more. But still my heart went faster afterwards.

Weird. I know. Stupid. I know! I know! I know!

I’m starting to feel like a weird, stupid, little stalker.

But still, I’m believing we’re going to meet. To talk. To smile at each other.

Feels wrong but at the same time so good and so right.

…I hope this is to be continued…

Cuba  Monkey
Cuba Monkey
Read next: 'Chocolate Kisses'
Cuba Monkey

i like words. espiacially when they are bundled together as one...ah whatever. what i want to say is that i like poetry.

(also i'm german, so sorry if my grammar sucks)

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