Never let a boy hold your hand.
Don’t even let him touch you – not “accidentally” either.
Because, when you let him touch you, that game that you’ve been playing with his head – that game that makes you feel so great but so bad – yeah! that game! – that game is over!
Suddenly he’s won.
He’s got you right where he wants you.
You had him in your intricately weaved web of deceit and trickery (and fun!) but now he’s escaped. Now he’s in charge.
He has you and everytime you see him you say “hi” and he ignores you.
Or he teases you.
He plays mind games! Hey, that’s our job!
Everytime you see him you want to hold his hand again but then you say something so damn stupid!
He laughs. You giggle a little bit. Why, Lord? Why am I so inept at life! you proclaim.
And the good Lord doesn’t answer because you can’t hear Him because you shouted that in the middle of the cafeteria and now everybody’s pointing and laughing.
You want to cry. You want to run away. But then he takes your hand. Holds it in his.
Just smile.