Her and Her Unofficial Love Affairs

CHAPTER 1

My story starts way, way back in high school. I was in my sophomore year, first day of class when a new classmate came in. Cliché this may seem but I must say that he was tall, dark, and handsome. Of course, he was handsome to me! He was also lean, carries himself well, and totally my type. He's got those pair of tantalizing eyes that attracted me the most. It was not a love-at-first-sight kind of stuff for it was not the first time that I saw him. His classroom was adjacent to mine the previous year. Let's just say, it was the first time that I took notice of him.

Unfortunately, he was seated at the back row while I was in front. It was so hard to take glimpses of him because it would be too obvious. There were times when our eyes met but I simply looked away, trying to hide the build-up of butterflies in my stomach.

And to be honest, I couldn't really remember our first conversation. But to tell you, every time I got the chance to talk to him, I felt so nervous and always tripped over my tongue. I hated myself for being so and just wished I've melted away at the middle of the conversation. And after every encounter with him, I felt so stupid and wondered, "Had he noticed it?", "Did he see that I've blushed?", "Had he heard my heart beat faster?" So many afterthoughts and so many "I should've done this or that" but at the same time, also formulating words for the next time we'll have the chance to talk again.

During recesses, I wanted to catch up with him but he was always with his boy friends and I couldn't get near them because I was also with my girl friends. You know, we were on our adolescent stage - wherein boys are with boys and girls are with girls. It is a conscious stage wherein youngsters feel awkward with the opposite sex. They are aware of each other's existence, attraction is also there but they are just afraid to show it and approach one another.

Day after day, that was the scenario - stolen glimpses of him, wishes of him to walk by me, and hopes for conversations with him. Until one day, our homeroom adviser told us that there will be a rearrangement of our seat plan which will be permanent until the end of the school year. I got transferred to the very first row and guess what. He was transferred to the second row right behind me! I was so happy then and considered that fate cooperated for us to be closer. Imagine that! We were given a great deal of time to know each other. Well, just the fact of having him close to me for the rest of the school year excited me to some extent!

Then we had little getting-to-know-you conversations. I found out who his parents are, what are their occupations, when is his birthday, where he lives, and how many siblings does he has. I also found out that he's into basketball and table tennis. "Oh, he's sports-minded! I'm gonna be the one to hand him a towel and a bottle of water each time he plays." That's what was on my mind.

Little by little, the stammering vanished and I felt so at ease with him. I laughed at every joke he cracked, considered his views and opinions to some matters, and hated Algebra with him. We also agreed that dogs are great pets, exchanged likes and dislikes in television shows and movies, and shared music.

One afternoon break, from out of the blue, he handed me a cassette tape of Peter André and told me to listen to the song Mysterious Girl. Without a word, I just took the tape from his hands and put it in my schoolbag. Then I instantly turned my head away from him. What was he thinking? Why did he lend me a cassette tape of some artist I didn't know and haven't heard of about? Why was he lending me something I didn't ask to borrow?

When I got home, I didn't change my clothes yet as I always do every time I arrive. Instead, I turned on our cassette player and listened to the tape, tuning into Mysterious Girl. I listened intently to the lyrics but all I could catch was the line "Oh, mysterious girl. I wanna get close to you."

And what did that mean?! Even the dumbest person on earth could understand that. How much more to a witty thirteen-year old who's discovering a new world of love. "Oh, my God! Am I in love?! Is this what they call love? How about crushes? Is he only my crush or is he already my love?" A lot of questions came across my mind like jets of lightning passing to and fro so quickly but registering so blatantly. I just stared at the cassette player until the whole side A of the tape finished rolling. I didn't play the song again for some reason I didn't know. I just returned the tape to its place in my schoolbag, out from my sight.

I haven't slept all night analyzing things and trying hard to keep myself not to presume that he liked me too. It would be so inappropriate for I was the kind of girl who considers myself not a beauty. At that time of my life, I ranked myself Class C when it comes to beauty, fame, and social status. The "social status" thing had bothered me a lot since his family was among the elite in our little town. But this doesn't mean that my family was poor or unpopular. It was just like his family was better than mine when it comes to prominence and circle of friends to hang out with.

Plus,there was the "beauty" thing. Unlucky for me, I was really not a beauty. Even worse, I grew up being the object of ridicule to kids - playmates, classmates,even relatives. They always teased me and called me names like "libat" (cross-eyed), "ita" (Aeta), "agta sa paril" (a very black persona in Filipino mythology on the wall), blah, blah, blah. Poor unfortunate me! I was born black!