Overview

This is a short story about a young heart and how karma works.

Let me tell you a story about young love. Scratch that. It’s a story about the first time I got a crush. The thing about a crush is that it hits you, hits you real hard. Then it grows. It’s like a boil on your butt. The one that makes you feel uncomfortable. The boil that makes you do crazy things like sitting with one butt at the edge of a chair. Woe unto you if they are those high school issue wooden chairs. Now that’s the crush feeling. Sounds gross but it really is something.

I was in class five. All I cared for was my bicycle, Cartoon Network, Action Night and food, in that order, until she came along. Since we are doing true stories, let me just be discreet about her name. Instead let’s use S as her name. S was new in our class. She was stupidly pretty. The thing about being stupidly pretty is that you tend to make people believe that you are out of this world. I don’t know if I am making sense. Anyway, let’s just go on, you’ll get it as this builds up.

I won’t bore you with a description of S. I am sure you won’t remember those descriptions by the end of this read.  Instead I’ll tell you about what really stood out for me. Her hair and the gap between her teeth. The gap really fascinated me. I had never seen someone with a gap. She was my first, and ooh boy did I break my virginity in style! I am talking about the gap virginity. Her hair was the kind that made you care about hair even if you were a dude. They were curly, long and black. They looked soft like the fur hair on a pillow case. Each time I saw them I always wanted to touch them. I dreamt of holding them in my hands, feeling them. The dream never came to pass.

I did so many crazy things to gain her attention that she never noticed. I made the class teacher move her to my desk so that I could be close to her. Of course I didn’t give this as a reason for the reshuffle. Instead I told him, our class teacher, that my desk mate would not give me a break. She was always hell bent at disturbing me. Of course this was partly a lie. The thing about having a crush is that everybody that isn’t your crush but tries to draw your attention seem only to come out as annoying.

She moved to my place, my desk. I thought this would bring us closer. It didn’t. She was always distant. She seemed more willing to talk to other people than to me. I envied them. I could never get a sentence out of her. It was always a yes or a no or an hmm. This was really frustrating to my young heart. Just to make her have a conversation with me, I pretended not to have textbooks so we could share hers. I pretended to lose my pen every week so I could borrow one from her. I pretended to sleep during night prep hoping that she’ll wake me up when the teacher on duty came around. Maybe then we could have something to talk about. She never did. I got massive beatings for sleeping in class. Those were the days when canning was the in thing.

Life was hard. I was miserable. I had to do something. I brought in a third party, my friend. He was dumber than I thought. He advised me to tell her how I felt. Okay, do not run into conclusions yet. You think this isn’t a dumb move but it really is. You see, the greatest sin in our boarding school back then was having relationships. It meant thorough beating, discrimination by the teachers and at times even expulsions. So why would I put myself at risk by telling her this? Then she probably would go blubbering to the teachers and I’ll get expelled before I even get to know what puberty is. No that was not a move for me.

As time went by, I toyed with the idea of telling her. It seemed a distant thing. Then it grew closer and I started even dreaming about it. I started making plans about it. My rational self was all against it. I pushed it aside. I made myself believe that everything will be fine. I will tell her, she will be elated and say yes. Then we will live together forever. I made strategies of telling her. I could write a letter, but this would leave valid evidence. I could tell her face to face, but then I’ll lose my confidence and start stammering. I could ask my friend to tell her, I really wasn’t sure if our friendship was the die for kind. Life got harder.

I settled for the second option. I was going to tell her face to face. This was much safer. At least she would not have incriminating evidence. I planned how it would be. The time would be a few minutes into break time. At that time most people would have already left the classroom. She would still be there. She always takes time to arrange her books and stationery a few minutes after the bell rings for break. She was the neat type. I’ll pretend to look for something in my bag. When the coast is clear, I’ll give her a flower and pop the question. On the night before this, I’ll sneak into the head teacher’s compound to steal the flower.

I was set to do this. I came into class that morning looking so happy. The stolen flower was in my bag. I sat and waited for her to walk in. She never did. Two lessons went by. She never came. Break time, she was nowhere to be seen. I never saw her again. She had switched schools. Her reason, her desk mate would not give her a break. He was always disturbing her and she couldn’t focus on her studies. Karma is a bitch.

WRITER: BYRON