My First Real Fall [Phosphate 11's First Challenge]
The first time I fell in love, it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t the stuff of movies, with violins thrumming in the background and two doves cuddling on a branch somewhere.
When I say I fell in love, I really do mean I fell. As in on the ground, right in front of his house, with him outside with his friends watching and laughing. Oh, and pointing. (As if the laughter wasn’t cruel and adolescent enough.)
I was 11 and skating around the block going a hundred miles an hour, despite the fact that I have a reputation for being a klutz (I’m the only person I know who wakes up with bruises). I certainly wasn’t looking to fall in love.
I’d never had a boyfriend before and I still played with Barbies. I dreamed of being an astronaut (this was before I realized I’d have to be good at math in order to be an astronaut, math being my least favorite subject). Boys were just … there.
But then he appeared, like a brilliant comet streaking across my sky. He had acne and braces. But a kind smile. That day changed my life.