I moved to a different school, where for one year I read. I spent all of the classes with a book under my desk. I continued with my custom of dressing in tiny belly-tops, showing off my budding figure to the best advantage I could, but innocently. I wanted to look good, not understanding what the whole thing was about, just knowing that boys paid attention to me when I did, and oh did I like attention.
There was a boy there, his name was Liam, and he told me he loved me. I laughed at him, but can you blame me really? We weren't even in our teens. There was another boy with bright blue eyes, his name was Joshua, and he asked me out every week at least once. I turned him down each and every time. I wasn't interested in a relationship, a mixture of believing I was too good for them, and fear. My only experience with was from my previous school, where May, Saffy and I took turns, getting a chaste little kiss each from our "boyfriend". Here I was alone, envied by the girls for my long wavy brown hair and smooth tan, and disliked because I didn't talk to anyone, as I was too busy reading all the time.
There was one boy, who I didn't outright reject. His name was Lionel, he was tall and had floppy black hair that was always a mess. He smoked stolen cigarettes and brought me a flower, and stole my books and read them himself. He had a girlfriend. He confided in me: he didn't like her. He didn't want to go out with her, but he didn't want to hurt her either.Being 'taken' didn't stop his courtship of me, and really, that's the only way I can describe it.
Growing up in the era of mobile phones, it was easy to spend all my credit in one night, texting him for hours on end. After school I gave up waiting on my mom, and instead I would go for walks with him. He used to spread his jacket out and let me lie on it, and he would sit on the ground, and we would chat about nothing for ages. Whenever I think of it, I picture sunlight and talking and smiles.
But things changed, as they do. He broke up with his girlfriend, and told me he wanted to be with me, but I heard that it was she who had broken up with him. And how could I trust him when he'd been going out with her the whole time? He could do the same to me with another girl. Not to mention, I was still scared by the idea of being tied to someone, when I didn't know anything about relationships. Learning from my mother wasn't a possibility, for her every relationship was the definition of dysfunctional. Nonetheless, I tentatively said yes, and we were an official couple, for all of two weeks.
Looking back I realize I was most likely just being foolish, but hindsight is a curse. What happened was one of the girls in my class asked me if we had broken up, and I was shocked, not knowing where this notion came from, and investigated. The girls f the class seemed to be under the impression that we were splitting up. I was terrified of being dumped-me, the girl who everyone chased. I ran for my mobile phone and texted him angrily, accusing him of planning to break up with me, and angrily stating that I was there first, and if anyone asked he could say it was me who had dumped him, because I was done!I didn't hear back, but in school he ignored me, and it gradually faded into something that I wasn't even certain happened. I suppose that was helped by my entry into secondary school, and teenagerhood, where the real trouble began.