Fifth Grade Romance

I knew I found the love of my life in fifth grade, in sixth grade too. I’ve discovered “the one” so many times that I had completely lost track by the time I left middle school. The idea of having one companion to live with forever has always appealed to me; me and her against the world, me and her against all odds, me and her FOREVER.

PERIOD.

(And I still kinda think like that.)

But anywho, amongst the social turmoil and hellish drama of the fifth grade something magical happened, and it happened on the school bus. My fifth grade school bus was as romantic as any school bus got. Yes, there was a lot of sexual tension on that yellow vehicle that smelled of vomit and body odor, and we knew it. We as fifth grade boys were standing on the threshold of adulthood, surveying the mighty vista that was middle school and adolescence. Yessir we were about to taste the delicious fruits of adulthood:

Reciting the word “boob,”

discussing the social implications of the jelly bracelet,

learning the ways of a woman… through sex education class,

and touching the top of the door frame as you walked by.

We were men; we were bachelors on the prowl! Ronnie Grandino had a girl friend, Bert Sexton just asked Allison Macintyre to go to Starbucks, JAMIE RANDAL WAS SEEN ON TUESDAY HOLDING HANDS WITH LYNDSEY WELSH!

We were living lives of sodomy and excess.

Well, actually, I wasn’t. I was still up in the ozone of the planet Female, but I was about to crash land thanks to that sonnuvagun yellow bus.

You see, the fifth grade bus route stunk beyond all possible literary description. There was nothing to do, nothing but strangers, and it was painfully long. I usually curled up next to the window and starred out the hazy panes at the surrounding country side. Often I would pretend that I was in a dramatic movie living within a world that offered more excitement than my current one. Watching the Ohio hills roll by eased my mind but never completely alleviated the pain in my stomach.

Nobody really likes me very much, that’s fine I suppose.

Its middle school that scares me really. What if I never find friends? What do I have?

“Hi.”

My head jerked up with a start. I turned my head.

What I saw was a red headed girl with messy wavy hair. She was pale, and unusual looking. Not ugly unusual, but she didn’t look like most girls.

What she saw was a young blonde lad who had been leaning the left side of his head up against the bus window. Half his face was bright pink and he looked like Harvey Dent.

“Hey.”

“Do you want to listen to a good song?”

“ok.”

She took out a white iPod, handed me a pink ear bud and started navigating the black and white music library. She took the left ear bud and placed it in her ear. I placed the right ear bud in my ear and waited emotionlessly.

ONE TWO THREE UH.

MY BABY DON’T MESS AROUND

BECAUSE SHE LOVES ME SO

AND THIS I KNOW FO’ SHO’

*clap clap clap*

I smiled instantly, it was my favorite song at the time: Outkast’s Hey Ya. I was tickled at the discovery.

“I love this song!” I grinned.

“You know there’s dirty lyrics in there?” she asked.

I looked up at her. Our heads were rather close together to keep the short ear bud cord from popping the speakers from our ears. We mutually stared blankly into each other’s eyes for an uncomfortably long duration.

“No.”

“It’s when he says ‘just want you in my Caddy.’”

This was news to me… how on earth could that be dirty? All I could think of was golf balls. Maybe that’s it? Balls are dirty… but it’s a stretch.”

“Yeah I know.” That’s a lie.

She smiled and I smiled.

“Where do you live?” I inquired.

“I’m in three stops.”

“You live in that red house with the barn in the back yard?”

“Yeah, my dad has a tractor that he lets me ride.”

“My grandpa has a tractor; my dad mows Grandpa’s field with it. He has a big lawn mower that attaches to the back of the tractor which is so powerful, it can chip a rock!”

“Here’s my stop. I need to go now. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She walked down the aisle, as unexpectedly as she came. I stuck my head out from the top of the seat like a meerkat and watched her walk down the aisle. When she was out of sight I switched to the seat across the aisle and looked out the window. She was running down the street to her house, her backpack a bounce behind her. Craning my neck until she was out of sight, I then resumed my normal position on the bench.

That was the first time in my memory that I had ever conversed with a girl.

I oozed with indifference.

The next day I was sitting in class, drawing smiley faces on the desk with my eraser when I saw the girl again. She was sitting diagonal to me in the class room. I stared in disbelief; I didn’t know she was in my class! Weird.

I wrote that on my desk with the eraser:

W-I-E-R-D

(I before E except after C)

I sat calmly and doodled. But the next thing I knew I was staring at her again!

I looked down.

I looked up.

I looked down.

I looked up.

I looked up.

I looked up.

My eyes were fixed upon her.

I was fascinated. I didn’t know why, it was just a girl. But for some reason I was just entranced by her face. Becoming confused, I panicked. This is new, this is strange. Real strange! WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME? WHY COULDN’T I LOOK AWAY? IT MUST BE—

Love.

Dear God… this is it. This is love. I’m in love. This girl’s the one.

My eyes were as wide as saucers.

What do I do, what do I say?

There’s one thing I know for sure:

I’m going to marry that girl.

That means we’ll have kids. What will our kids look like? They’ll have her hair of course, my sense of adventure—

“Ian?”

“Yes Mr. Lynne?”

Everyone’s eyes were upon me.

“Don’t write on the desks.”

“It’s just eraser.”

“I know, but pay attention please.”

“Sorry.”

I looked up, the redhead girl was staring at me. I bit my lip and looked at the floor.

I never talked to her again.