I have a penchant for blond haired boys. His was almost white-blond. His name was Cody, which was the same as my four year old cousin who lived with us at the time. I thought I was very mature for overlooking this obvious deficit on his part. He invited me over to his house to play in his backyard pool. I thought it meant we were destined to be together for ever.
We could live at his house because of the pool situation. I would even share my red Popsicles with him. I walked the two and a half blocks to his house dreaming of ever afters filled with sugar-coated bliss. There were three other people already in the pool, all of them girls. I realized I liked my red Popsicles too much to share and seven year old boys didn’t know anything.
But the pool was nice.
***
He was a blond too, except his was a classic California golden blond that glinted perfectly in the sunlight. We sat with our friends in a circle on the cement in front of the Boys and Girls Club of Tustin. The sun was hot and the cement was burning through my shorts. I watched him not watch me out of the corner of my eye. He was two years older and clearly much, much wiser. He said all of the girls should stretch our legs out and he would tell us our future. I stretched, he picked at the skin above my scabby knee.
“This is how I can tell that a girl is going to be fat. This loose bit of skin that folds over your knee means you are definintely going to be huge someday.”
“You’re telling me I’m fat?” I looked at him, appalled by his declaration. No one had ever once called me fat before. I was the skinny girl. Too skinny maybe, but never, ever fat. My brother told me I didn’t have breasts, I was concave.
“No.” he said.”I’m telling you that you’re going to be fat someday. Watch out.”
I got up and walked away. Blond-haired boys were over-rated.
***
He was the opposite of blond. His hair was tight black curls cut close against his head. His skin was like dark chocolate. I was as pale as pale could get without becoming translucent. Sometimes we would hold our arms out next to each other and laugh at the difference.
It was my turn to work the snack booth and I was wiping down the counters, rearranging the Skittles and Whatchamacallits during a slow time. He came up to the window and looked me over.
“Wanna be my girlfriend?” he mumbled.
“Ummm… what?” I replied. He was older by three years, was he crazy? Didn’t he know that I was the skinny kid that wore huge purple glasses and had fat knees? What was he thinking?
“Wanna be my girlfriend?” He mumbled again.
“Umm.. no? I don’t think I do. I like you, I just don’t like you.” I blushed from head to toe. I’m pretty sure my teeth blushed. Did I like him? I wasn’t sure. Being twelve was confusing.
“Okay. Wanna rent a pool table with me?”
“Sure. Give me half an hour.”
I only saw him twice after that. I missed him.
***
It was his last chance. One more strike and he was out. He was sixteen. It seemed like a waste. They called him Over. I have no idea of his real name. I had seen his tags around town. They always said Over. Whoever he was before that was long gone by now. At only thirteen, I had a long history of being a sucker for the underdog. When he first started coming around, I tried to be nice. I snuck him a free candy bar between customers.
We sat at the booth across from each other, our legs stretched out in front of us. His feet rested next to my hip, mine next to his. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. I forgot that he was Over, that he spent his free time with a marker and a can of spray paint. I forgot that he had an entire gang of men standing behind him.
“You know, if you were my girlfriend, I could protect you.”
“Protect me from what? I don’t need protection.”
“What about those girls on the bus?”
“I don’t need protection from them. It was gum in my hair, not an attack.”
“Still, you should tell them you’re my girlfriend.”
“What’s the difference between being your girlfriend and this?”
“You’d have to let me kiss you.”
“I don’t think this is going to work out.”
He got up and walked to the sign that declared there were Children at Play. He took out a two toned grease pencil and scribbled OVER across the top. He looked at me as though he was trying to see into my head, trying to judge if I would tell or just let it go. My eyes were huge. Didn’t he know this was his last chance? Didn’t he know that someone beside me would see it eventually?
He laughed and kept walking. He had a hitch to his walk and his black pants hung so low they looked like they were going to fall off. I wondered how he kept them up. Luckily his huge white t shirt covered everything important.
I went back to work.
***
Another blond squeezed his way into my life. Nathan of the puppy dog eyes and the soulful smile. Every emotion played out right there on his face. He couldn’t hide anything. He asked me to be his girlfriend on Friday during Calligraphy class. When he looked at me, I could feel heat buzzing around in my stomach. I felt dizzy and happy. For the first time, I said yes.
He gave me his copy of Two Princes by Spin Doctor. I sat in my room all Friday night, playing it over and over.
When I came home from a friend’s house on Saturday my parents were sitting at the dining room table with my brother having lunch.
“Someone named Nathan called today.” My mom said.
“Is that your BOYFRIEND?” My brother yelled.
“You have a boyfriend?” My dad called at my retreating back.
“Ooooo… a boyfriend!” My mom said. They all stared at me. My Mom’s face was shocked. My Dad’s looked amused. My brother’s sceptical. I kept walking up the stairs, never saying a word, my face flaming at the embarrassment.
I sat down at my desk and wrote Nathan a letter breaking up with him. I gave it to him on Monday.
Two weeks later we danced at the Eighth Grade End of Year Dance to Lady in Red. I was wearing a red dress sprinkled with white daisies. It was meant to be. He held on to me like he never wanted to let go. I still can’t listen to that song without thinking of him.
I love that song.
