(This is a smidge true and a smidge fiction. I changed the names to protect the guilty.)


I was the picture of adolescent horror, but I had no clue. It was the morning of my first day of sixth grade. I sat in front of my mirror picking my blonde permed hair into the perfect halo. I adjusted my pink-rimmed square glasses on the bridge of my nose, folded the collar of my turquoise turtleneck dress down and added the perfect finishing touch. A extra long “pearl” necklace. I looked like a thirty-year-old business woman in an eleven year old’s body. All I needed was the brief case. The smile was undoubtedly pre-teen though, under bite and all.
I was terrifically uncool.
“Triangles or squares?” my mom yelled from downstairs.
“They are actually rectangles,” I corrected coming downstairs with my backpack.
“Rectangles it is,” she said cutting my sandwich and handing me my lunch.
“Bye mom,” I said heading for the door.
“Wait for your brother. He’ll be out in a second. Ryan? Triangles or Squares?”
“Tell him to hurry up,” I said walking outside.

Then the first thing that ever really happened to me, happened.

I froze. On the porch was a red rose with a note folded in perfect triangle attached to it. It said my name. B-E-T-H. Definitely boy handwriting. I scrambled to pick it up, ran behind a bush that I’m pretty sure was not tall enough to hide my hair, and unfolded the tightly bound ruled paper
Dearest Beth,
My name is Adam Harris.
I sat in front of you last year in Mrs. Kline’s class.
I think you’re neat. I think you’re the prettiest
girl in school. Especially in that blue dress you wear almost everyday…

“Oh my god.” I could barely breathe. I kept reading.

You’re the smartest too.
I’ve been waiting all summer to see you.
Let’s hang out at recess. I’ll write you a note.
Adam

I didn’t think I had ever talked to him, but that didn’t matter. Adam Harris. A boy.
“We had the same initials!” I thought to myself. “I’d better get to school. Oh gosh. Oh no. He’s going to be there. Oh god…”
I took a step onto the sidewalk and was nearly mowed over by the latest fashion trends.
“Nice dress Beth. Didn’t you wear that last year?” A familiar voice mocked. Amanda Wright. The most popular girl in school. She laughed with her minions as they ran away.
I didn’t care. Adam liked my dress.
“Beth, wait up!” my little brother ran up. “What are you doing? Is that a flower? What do you have that for?”
“Ryan, shut up!” I said. I stuffed the rose and note into my backpack and continued on with my brother trailing behind me.
“Sooooorrrrry,” Ryan whined.
But I beamed.
In school relationships were like the love affairs on soap operas my babysitters liked to watch. Beginning with strangers exchanging glances across a crowded playground, an innocent chance meeting at the drinking fountain, falling in love by Social Studies and broken hearts by Gym class. I desperately wanted to be part of that cycle.
A note boyfriend.
The bell rang.
“See you after school…with your booooyyyfriend,” Ryan teased running off to join his class.
I didn’t care. Nothing could get me down that day.
Adam. There he was. His messy brown hair covered his face. His red converse propped up on the seat in front of him.
My mind was going a millions miles a second.
“He’s not looking over here.

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