Before I begin, let me just say that I was a different person back then. I was sixteen! I was just a little girl! So don't go laughing at me, or I'll pop you in the mouth real good. You'll die from blood loss.
Now where was I? Oh yeah! The story.
I guess it all began when I was standing by my locker that one morning. I was putting away my books, when suddenly my at the time friend Angie came up behind me. "Hi!" Angie squealed.
I turned around and squealed an indistinctive greeting back, and then turned to finish putting away my books. But Angie wasn't just saying hi and passing by, like she usually did. For once, she actually had something on her mind. Which is strange for a girl like her. You know how in those movies they portray cheerleaders as pretty dumb girls? Yeah, that's Angie. She wasn't book smart, street smart, or even just girl smart. I'll be frank, she was a dumby. But she sure was pretty. Golden hair with a hint of brown, and lush green eyes that were like forests in that a boy could easily get lost in them.
"Guess what!" Angie said with her usual overexcited tone.
"What?" I asked, trying to act as excited as her.
"Principal says, there's a new senior coming tomorrow."
My eyes lit up immediately. "A new boy? Did he describe him? Oh I hope he's cute!"
Yeah, I talked like that. But I don't now, so shut it!
Angie and I dreamily imagined him until the bell rang. "Gotta go!" Angie declared. And with that, she skipped away happily.
I continued to imagine the perfect boy. Usually, this would be a good time for me to sing. Alone in the hallway, pressing books against my chest, and thinking about a boy. Unfortunately for you, my life isn't a musical. But if I remember correctly, I did hum a tune. Probably a tune that I made up on the top of my head. I did that a lot back then. Still do, in fact.
Enough about that. Anyway, I practically stumbled into my next class. Drama class. Luckily, this was the only class that didn't suck at my pain in the butt school. And it still wasn't perfect. The teacher, Mr. Hanson, wasn't the best looking guy around. Nor the best smelling. But he was a good teacher, and he rarely gave homework. And when he did, it was fun stuff like writing scripts. Don't ask me why writing scripts is more fun than essays, but whatever the case, it is.
Anyhow, I'll skip the drama part, because this is a story about romance. Not a story about school drama, which there was a lot of, by the way.
So yeah, after class, I went to my locker to pick up the books I needed and head off to science class. Which by the way, is the worst class of all.
As I approached my locker, the doors swung open. And in he walked. My books dropped to the floor. Yes, just like the movies, morons. And he walked in, holding his backpack with his left hand, and holding his jacket which was swung over his shoulder with his right. My eyes were glued to him as he walked down the hallway. And maybe I was imagining it, but I'm pretty sure everyone stopped to admire him. Including the boys.
I didn't know it yet, but that wasn't just any guy walking through the door. That guy was going to be the guy. My first love.