He had curly red hair.
Not the tight, frizzy kind of hair, but the loose carefree kind of
curls. They were beautiful and so often
I had to hold my 11-year-old hand back from running fingers through his
perfectly placed hair. Steve wasn’t
dreamy. He had a raspy voice with a
slight lisp. But everyone loved
him. He was so cool with his green
shirts and all-star shoes. In fifth
grade, we sat right next to each other for a whole 3 months. Of course, the seats were assigned, but I
thought it was destiny. Every time he
sat down with a sigh and a tuneful “hi…” flowing from his lips, my heart melted
only so slightly. We weren’t ever
exactly friends, but more of acquaintances all through 4th, 5th,
and 6th grades. Every now and
then we would be on the same wally-ball team or we’d be paired for thumb war
competitions. I held the record as the
thumb war champ. My thumbs are quite
unbeatable.
No girls ever really talked about Steve, which made me
happy. I felt more confident as I kept
my treasured crush to myself knowing I was the only one who adored him. Steve would never, not ever know how much I
liked him. Once he brought worms- in-
dirt cupcakes to class for Halloween and he ran around the classroom with
chocolate frosting smeared across his freckled face with gummy worms dangling
from his teeth. It was disgusting, but
oh so cool. I loved his confidence and
his relaxed demeanor. I always imagined
him growing up to be quite the catch.
Through those three years in elementary school we always
acknowledged each other and had fun together whenever we were conveniently
paired for assignments and activities. I
knew nothing would ever actually happen between us, but I still admired him
from afar.
Toward the end of 6th grade we had camp. All sixth graders went away for a week to a
camp ground in the Washington mountains.
I looked forward to it all year and was so excited to have a whole week
playing and hiking and flirting with boys and NO PARENTS. It was a perfect set up. Finally we were off on our grand
adventure! And Steve was nearby.
I had it all perfectly imagined in my head. It was going to be the perfect week. I kept Steve constantly in the corner of my
eye as I did ropes courses and climbed trees.
The first evening we were lined up for a giant dodge ball tournament. It was going to be big and we were all tense
with sweaty palms as we waited for the whistle.
When the whistle finally shrieked and initiated the
slaughter, I ran as fast as I could straight for the brightest red ball in the
center of the court. I grabbed it quick
and with all my strength swung my arm back for the kill. As I whipped my arm around, a giant red ball
came straight at me and hit me square in the face, between the eyes, with a
swooping WHOOSH. I felt the ball slip
from my hands as I fell backward and landed with a thump on my back.
Everything went BLACK.
When I woke up, I looked up to see six or seven faces
staring down at me. As I became increasingly
conscious, I heard a loud cackling laugh right in front of me. My friends lifted me up to my feet. Still the laughing continued. I looked around for it to find Steve, sides
splitting with laughter. He couldn’t
control it! He hit me with the giant
rubber ball and knocked me out right off my feet! STEVE HIT ME!
Apparently he’d never seen anything so hilarious in his life. Oh
geez! I watched in disbelief as Steve stumbled off still
laughing. As I walked to the restroom
with the nurse, I looked back at Steve, cursing him AND dodge ball. He didn’t say sorry and he didn’t care. Needless to say, we never talked for the rest
of camp or ever again! But I still loved
that golden red hair. What a shame….I
never got to run my fingers through his beautiful hair.
Obviously, I never played dodge ball again either. The thought of a giant, red, rubber ball
still haunts me today. Be sure to keep
those things away from me!
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