Growing Up - Tearing Down

The first boy that ever showed me any attention was an average looking guy by the name of James Ashby. He was a nice looking boy who was quiet in class, and he always had a wave of blonde hair over one eye. Not a surfer sun-bleached blonde; not a platinum blonde out of a bottle; not even muddy blonde. A nerd who listened to Mr. Mays speaking at the front of the class; took lots of notes; and always had his homework done.

James liked to use a green pen with the cap slightly chewed. I know this because I watched his every move in class, and he had short clean nails. James wore nice shirts that needed to be ironed; but made certain to button them to the top of the collar. He seemed somewhat shy; he listened to music when he wasn’t in class; he was not attached to any sport. I didn’t know where he lived, or if he were an only child. I just knew his quiet confidence attracted me. His eyes were hazel, and his smile was always sincere.

My best friends Sandy and Carole and Martha all told me he was a geek; a dweeb; uncomfortable as a new pony. They told me I could do better. James was my first crush and I wasn’t going to let him go. James didn’t doodle or dawdle in class; he always arrived early; he ate his fruit out of a blue Monster Truck lunchbox. He was twelve and had no pimples; I was six months older and sported a variety of blemishes on my forehead. I had no breasts to speak of, but long legs that would serve me well in drill team.

At night I would quietly pray that James would notice me. Two weeks later he approached me after school to present me with a silver chain and heart. There was a little bell in the center of the heart and he had it engraved with my name. Each time I had to walk to the front of the class the bell would jingle quietly while I felt loved and protected. James was a good boy; Ja’Nee was a nice girl.

There was another boy in my class that made my hands sweat and my neck itch whether I was wearing a turtle-neck sweater or not. Bill Rucker had black hair like my Dad, and blue eyes the color of some expensive gem you see in the jewelry store at the mall. He was disrespectful of Mr. Mays and once told our music teacher, Mrs. Carcelli, that she needed glasses and mouthwash. Bill wore clothes that were never quite clean; never pressed; never matched. He would steal your pencils; your lunch money; your new tablet; not once saying he was sorry. Bill would not take textbooks home; forget to bring his homework in; he was fifteen minutes late to class (if he showed up at all.) I loved him more than the world. My best friends Lisa and Caroline and Kathy all told he was the most buff boy in our grade. He wore deodorant, and sometimes smelled like my dad's aftershave.

My Mom didn’t know about Bill Rucker – she didn’t know about the heart that James Ashby gave me. I wanted to ask her if it was possible to love two boys. In the last week I had my first period; started wearing a bra that my aunt had given me; my braces didn’t hurt; and my complexion cleared up. I knew I was beginning to mature, and I knew I was ready for love. And I had already made an important decision to pierce my virgin ears and bleach my hair with the bottle of peroxide Mom kept under the bathroom sink. I was coming of age.

Bill Rucker asked me if he could walk me home from Vanalden Elementary school. I told James that my Mom was picking me up, as I took off the heart and chain to place in my coat pocket. Bill held my hand the entire ten blocks, and I thought this was it - he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Just rough around the edges. When we got to my carport on Wystone Avenue, Bill looked at me with his big blue eyes and asked if we could go steady. I bit my lip to keep from crying and told him yes. What I didn’t tell him was how happy I felt inside! My friends would envy me; my teachers would take notice of me; my life would be good.

As he walked down the driveway he said, “Ja’Nee, do you know what today is?” I said, “It’s Tuesday, April 1.” Bill smiled and said, “April Fools” as he walked away.

The moral of this story:
A good guy is hard to find. Don’t toss him and his jewelry out when you have a sure thing.