Letting Go

Chapter 10

I remember the first time I liked a boy. We were both in the seventh grade and we had history class together. I sat in the far left corner of the classroom and his seat was right in front of mine. For a seventh grader, he was very tall. He had curly light brown hair with natural golden like highlights and his eyes were a dark chocolate brown. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks and he had these dimples, one on each cheek, that would make my heart flutter every time he smiled. He was my first crush.

It was nearing Valentine's Day and we were learning who Cupid was and what he meant in different cultures. Some cultures saw him as an evil man and some saw him as a cute baby. My favorite version is the Greek myth. Eros, the son of Aphrodite, was a version of Cupid and I aimed to be as heartfelt and courageous as Eros. I wanted to be able to take the man I love and have him love me the way I love him. I wanted to go against everyone who has whispered cruel words in my ear and drowned me in their hatred towards me. Valentine's Day. I would confess and find the courage and confidence that everyone has slowly been ripping away from me.

Valentine's Day came around and I remember my heart feeling like it would burst out of my chest. My hands were shaking when carrying the wooden box I clutched closely towards my chest. It took me two months to find all the pieces to build the wooden box and to practice making homemade cannolis. On the first day of school, everyone had to introduce themselves and say one fun fact about themselves. His fact was how cannolis are his favorite dessert.

My arms and hands were shaking every step closer I took towards him. He was talking to one of his friends and they were laughing. The closer I got towards him, I felt heads turn to watch me. The moment I got in front of him my heart kept beating faster and faster. He stopped in the middle of his conversation turning to look at me, but I couldn't think of what to say to him. Everyone's eyes were on me. Letting the box speak for itself, I held it in front of his face and let him take it. I watched him open it and stare down at the dessert that I had made for him. I spent hours the night before preparing everything and hoping he would accept the feeling I put into making everything. I always felt like when something is handmade, it shows how much the person cares for you. At least that is what my dad used to say to me.

Only a few minutes passed by, but it felt like hours. All he was doing was staring down at the box. Suddenly, he slammed closed the box and got up from his seat. Grabbing my arm, he dragged me out of history class and I could feel his nails digging into my arms. Once outside in the hallway, he let go of my arm and pushed me on the ground. He opened the box and threw the desserts I spent so much time preparing for him on the ground in front of me and stomping on them with his foot. I felt tears roll down my cheeks as I watched him stomp over what I thought would get him to notice a girl like me. A crowd began to form and people from our class and other classes came out to witness what was going on. My cheeks felt hot from embarrassment and the tears would not stop rolling doing my face. I felt like caged animal. All eyes were on me and there was no escaping.

Thinking he was done when he started walking away, he swiftly turned back around and threw the wooden box at the back of my head. As I started to lose consciousness, I remember hearing laughter from the teachers and students. Now I know why they call them crushes.

Bolting straight up from my bed, I could feel the dampness of my shirt and my hair sticking to my forehead. My hand reached up to the back of head and I slowly traced what was left of the scare from so long ago. I remember having to get a few stitches from the blow I took that day and how I woke up in the hospital with my dad asleep by my side. His hand was holding mine tightly, as if he was too afraid to let go.

Shaking my head from the memory, I got up from my bed and changed my damp shirt into a clean one. I walked to my bathroom to wash my face and fix my hair into a bun. Just as a finished doing my bun, the door bell to the apartment rang. Not thinking much of it, I went to open the door with out checking first. Big mistake.

"Cartier!!!" I was suddenly in the embrace of Elson with my face buried into his chest.

With my voiced muffled, I attempted to speak, "Elson. Voice. Air. Let go."

Laughing, Elson let go of me and took a step a back. Since Elson decided to attack me, I didn't notice Emerson standing right behind him. The door was closed and Emerson was looking around my apartment taking in the area I have worked so hard to keep people out of. Being friends with Elson, I now realize my once guarded fortress is being burned down every second I'm with him.

"You see!" Elson started. "Her house looks like it came out of a rich Korean drama. Everything matches!!"

Rolling his eyes, Emerson responded, "Your house matches too Elson."

Elson shook his head vigorously. "Not like this."

Emerson sighed and rolled his eyes at Elson. "I don't know how we became friends."

Smiling, Elson put his arm around me shoulder and looked down at me. "So... I was thinking thaaat weshouldgoshoppingtodayandnowthatyouknowyou shouldagree"

Blinking a few times to process what he said, I stared at him for a few seconds before looking away. He wants me to go shopping? Absolutely not.

"Before you say no," Elson began, "I think who you is great. I will be your friend no matter what kind of style you choose to wear in or outside of school."

"But," Emerson cut Elson off and started to finish Elson's thought, "when you smiled the other day, we realized that people don't realize how pretty you are."

Pretty? Elson and Emerson both gave me a pleading look to go with them to mall. Getting to know Emerson these past few weeks lead me to the conclusion that Emerson is just a mature version of Elson. Kinda. Both of them are extremely tall,
extremely loud for no reason, and both of them just latched on my life wagon unexpectedly. Differently, but unexpectedly.

"CARTIER!" Elson and Emerson yelled my name which snapped me out of my thoughts. Awaiting for my answer I sighed and looked down at my feet. If I say no they will be hurt, but if I say yes then my feet will hurt.

Sighing I again I mumbled, "Let me grab my phone and wallet."

As I walked away from them, I could hear them cheering and arguing over who gets to drive to the mall and who gets to sit shotgun. Smiling to myself, I shook my head at their relationship and grabbed my stuff. It's going to be a long day.