By Laura Gene Beck
There is a wisdom of the head, and... a wisdom of the heart.
~Charles Dickens
I moved from Massachusetts to North Carolina the summer before eighth grade. It didn't take me long to notice that my new classmates were a lot more interested in dating than my old friends had been. Girls on the bus continually talked about who was "going with" who. At first I didn't know what they meant. Having a boyfriend at twelve or thirteen? I was totally not ready for that!
There is a wisdom of the head, and... a wisdom of the heart.
~Charles Dickens
I moved from Massachusetts to North Carolina the summer before eighth grade. It didn't take me long to notice that my new classmates were a lot more interested in dating than my old friends had been. Girls on the bus continually talked about who was "going with" who. At first I didn't know what they meant. Having a boyfriend at twelve or thirteen? I was totally not ready for that!
Still, I was all ears when it came to other people's love lives. A boy named Garth was a major subject of gossip. Every other day, the rumors had him going out with a different girl. He was a year behind me, but he rode my bus so I knew who he was. He was blond and cute and very smooth. I thought he was a little too in love with himself, but I could see why he was popular.
Garth never seemed to pay much attention to me. Not that I expected him to -- I was a new kid, sort of a nerd and not what most people would call pretty. So I was totally surprised when he called me up at home one day in February. He called to say he liked me. A lot. Me!
A day or two later, he took the seat behind me on the bus and started talking in a quiet, serious voice. He talked about himself, about the hard life he'd had.
"We moved a lot when I was a kid," he said. "So I never had a best friend. And maybe because of that, I've always been a loner. I can act friendly on the outside, but I always keep the real, deep parts of me hidden."
He leaned closer to me. "I guess I'm just too sensitive," he said. "I feel things, I take things really hard . . . so, I don't want people to get close."
I got off the bus thinking that I hadn't really been fair to Garth. He wasn't stuck up. That was just a face he put on, so people wouldn't know how sensitive he was. I felt sorry for him. He was so nice -- and so unhappy!
A few days after that, Garth came by my house after school. We stood around on my porch talking for a long time. It was cold, but we didn't care. Actually, we didn't notice. We were too involved in our conversation.
"I have to tell you," he said. "I think I'm falling in love with you. You're just so amazing, so perfect -- "
"No, I'm not!" I said, blushing.
"You are!" he insisted. "You're beautiful, you have great manners. . . ."
I'm not good with compliments even when I know they're true. But when they're not true, and I wish they were . . . "I'm not beautiful," I said. "I'm not even pretty."
"You are beautiful," said Garth. He put his arm around me. It felt strange, but I didn't try to stop him. "Look," he said. "I've gone with a lot of girls, and I know. You're special. You really are."
I shook my head, but I didn't try to argue.
"Listen," said Garth. "Tell you what -- I'll help you stop saying bad things about yourself, if you'll help me stop being so sensitive. Okay?"
I smiled at him. "Okay," I said.
He held me closer and bent his head like he was going to kiss me. I didn't know what to do. I turned away suddenly, and his face just brushed my cheek. I felt kind of clumsy, but I was glad he'd missed. I wasn't ready for kissing, and I honestly didn't like him "that way."
I felt all mixed up inside. I was happy and excited and totally flattered, but something still felt wrong. For one thing, I felt like I was pretending to love him when I really didn't. Shouldn't I tell him the truth? But how? And how could he be in love with me, anyway? He hardly knew me!
Just then my mom turned on the outside light, and Garth let go of me fast. He said, "See you tomorrow!" and took off down the road.
The house felt stuffy and warm after all that time outside. I dropped my books in the kitchen and ran up to my bedroom to think.
I really only liked Garth as a friend, but his arm did feel nice around me. And it was kind of cool having someone in love with me. I told myself it wasn't like I had to do anything about it. What did "going out" with someone mean anyway, besides just spending time together? I could just tell him I wasn't ready for kissing -- couldn't I?
The next day on the bus, Garth acted like nothing had happened between us. He acted like we were just friends. I told myself he wanted to play it down so the other kids wouldn't tease us. But his acting seemed a little too good.
For the next few days, whenever we were alone, Garth talked about how he loved me. But when other people were around, he acted like we were just friends. Of course, I was just friends with him, but the whole thing was starting to bother me. Was he ashamed of liking me? Or was he lying about it in the first place? Why would he lie?
A week went by, and after that, I hardly saw Garth at all. That was okay. I didn't exactly miss him. I was so confused about him, about what had happened and about what it meant. Then about a month later, I heard something that helped me understand.
I was on the bus when I heard a girl mention Garth's name. "It's disgusting," she said. "They actually brag about how many girls they've kissed! Garth's got the most, of course."
"Yeah," said her friend. "Like every seventh-and eighth-grade girl in the school! I hear he's working on the ninth-graders now."
I felt like I'd been hit in the stomach. I just wanted to crawl under the seat and die. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have believed a single one of his ridiculous lies?
It took me a while, but eventually I got over it. After all, he fooled a lot of girls, not just me. I just wished I'd listened to that voice in my head that said something was wrong. Now I know better. I know that you should always listen to that little warning voice, because it's usually right.
Garth never seemed to pay much attention to me. Not that I expected him to -- I was a new kid, sort of a nerd and not what most people would call pretty. So I was totally surprised when he called me up at home one day in February. He called to say he liked me. A lot. Me!
A day or two later, he took the seat behind me on the bus and started talking in a quiet, serious voice. He talked about himself, about the hard life he'd had.
"We moved a lot when I was a kid," he said. "So I never had a best friend. And maybe because of that, I've always been a loner. I can act friendly on the outside, but I always keep the real, deep parts of me hidden."
He leaned closer to me. "I guess I'm just too sensitive," he said. "I feel things, I take things really hard . . . so, I don't want people to get close."
I got off the bus thinking that I hadn't really been fair to Garth. He wasn't stuck up. That was just a face he put on, so people wouldn't know how sensitive he was. I felt sorry for him. He was so nice -- and so unhappy!
A few days after that, Garth came by my house after school. We stood around on my porch talking for a long time. It was cold, but we didn't care. Actually, we didn't notice. We were too involved in our conversation.
"I have to tell you," he said. "I think I'm falling in love with you. You're just so amazing, so perfect -- "
"No, I'm not!" I said, blushing.
"You are!" he insisted. "You're beautiful, you have great manners. . . ."
I'm not good with compliments even when I know they're true. But when they're not true, and I wish they were . . . "I'm not beautiful," I said. "I'm not even pretty."
"You are beautiful," said Garth. He put his arm around me. It felt strange, but I didn't try to stop him. "Look," he said. "I've gone with a lot of girls, and I know. You're special. You really are."
I shook my head, but I didn't try to argue.
"Listen," said Garth. "Tell you what -- I'll help you stop saying bad things about yourself, if you'll help me stop being so sensitive. Okay?"
I smiled at him. "Okay," I said.
He held me closer and bent his head like he was going to kiss me. I didn't know what to do. I turned away suddenly, and his face just brushed my cheek. I felt kind of clumsy, but I was glad he'd missed. I wasn't ready for kissing, and I honestly didn't like him "that way."
I felt all mixed up inside. I was happy and excited and totally flattered, but something still felt wrong. For one thing, I felt like I was pretending to love him when I really didn't. Shouldn't I tell him the truth? But how? And how could he be in love with me, anyway? He hardly knew me!
Just then my mom turned on the outside light, and Garth let go of me fast. He said, "See you tomorrow!" and took off down the road.
The house felt stuffy and warm after all that time outside. I dropped my books in the kitchen and ran up to my bedroom to think.
I really only liked Garth as a friend, but his arm did feel nice around me. And it was kind of cool having someone in love with me. I told myself it wasn't like I had to do anything about it. What did "going out" with someone mean anyway, besides just spending time together? I could just tell him I wasn't ready for kissing -- couldn't I?
The next day on the bus, Garth acted like nothing had happened between us. He acted like we were just friends. I told myself he wanted to play it down so the other kids wouldn't tease us. But his acting seemed a little too good.
For the next few days, whenever we were alone, Garth talked about how he loved me. But when other people were around, he acted like we were just friends. Of course, I was just friends with him, but the whole thing was starting to bother me. Was he ashamed of liking me? Or was he lying about it in the first place? Why would he lie?
A week went by, and after that, I hardly saw Garth at all. That was okay. I didn't exactly miss him. I was so confused about him, about what had happened and about what it meant. Then about a month later, I heard something that helped me understand.
I was on the bus when I heard a girl mention Garth's name. "It's disgusting," she said. "They actually brag about how many girls they've kissed! Garth's got the most, of course."
"Yeah," said her friend. "Like every seventh-and eighth-grade girl in the school! I hear he's working on the ninth-graders now."
I felt like I'd been hit in the stomach. I just wanted to crawl under the seat and die. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have believed a single one of his ridiculous lies?
It took me a while, but eventually I got over it. After all, he fooled a lot of girls, not just me. I just wished I'd listened to that voice in my head that said something was wrong. Now I know better. I know that you should always listen to that little warning voice, because it's usually right.
http://www.chickensoup.com
Комментариев нет:
Отправить комментарий