Chapter Four-I Hated Him

 

                His name was Dalton and he appeared in my life in 7^th grade. Thanks to Melanie and a few other smart girls that accepted me I was finally making a name for myself in little old Manchester. I was still quite, still hiding from everyone, but I at least had a group that I fit into.

To top it off, I was the only 7^th grader with genuine tits, by this time they were about a B cup and I was no longer wearing trainer bras. Tits meant I got noticed more, and I was always hoping to catch the eyes of Scott, a popular, basketball playing boy that was the apple of just about every girl’s eye.

                When Dalton showed up he threatened the delicate threads that formed my life. In Manchester the new kids were always hated. The new kids that were smarter than everyone else were targets. Dalton was the latter. He was brilliant, funny and artistic. All of my friends voiced negative opinions about him though. He was awkward, strange, too tall and looked weird. So by default I had to keep a distance.

                Then he started crushing on me. It started with little things, smiles and looks while I was in the hall. These were all gestures I could ignore. Then the valentine’s gifts came. Chocolate taped to my locker and handmade cards that I threw at him in anger. The new, awkward kid wanted to date me, and I hated him for it.

                We shared an art class that year, and I spent most of it threatening to stab him with my pencil and calling him names. I thought that if I was mean enough he would finally just leave me alone. In out tech lab class I regularly took the only computer that had his 3-D animation programs and then yelled at him more when he asked to use it just this once. I think what I hated most about him is he never fought back. He was passive, quiet, and submissive. The more I yelled the more he just put up with it and his crush on me was still pretty obvious through the rest of middle school.

                In 8^th grade I started getting anonymous letters at my locker. Confessions of love and just sweet things that I couldn’t help but write back to. I eagerly passed notes back and forth by means of my locker, trying to figure out who the love sick boy was that spun words so sweetly. I slowly fell in love with the writer, despite the fact that I didn’t know him. I wanted to meet him, to tell him that I was madly in love with whoever he was. I would have done anything to get to meet him. We made a meeting once, but he never showed and I thought my heart had broken.

At the very end of the year Melanie gifted me with a kiss on the cheek at the end of school and it was my first encounter of a romantic kind with anyone, and to this day I still wish I hadn’t been so scared of it. That kiss was more than a simple gesture of friendship. It had been her silent confession to being my admirer. And to be honest, I still loved her like I loved what I thought to be a man. It didn’t matter that she was a woman in that moment, but I never said anything because life had taught me such things were wrong.

                Melanie didn’t come back in high school, her parents decided to home school her again so that public school could corrupt her no more. I was left without a true friend once more and would have to face my freshman year alone. I had to give up Melanie, the first girl I ever had true feelings for, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself. She showed me a new world, where I could be myself. But most importantly, she showed me what it was to love, and to lose.

                I tell people I’ve only loved one person, and that’s the boy I’m currently dating. But that’s not true. I’ve only loved one man, but long before I fell for him Melanie was in my thoughts, my dreams, and most importantly, my heart.