In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First Crush.”
My first crush was on a boy named Stephen. It was fifth grade when he moved into my town, and I thought that was it. He was the one.
He had bleached blonde hair, blue eyes, and an earring. He played goalie in hockey, and was the tallest boy in the class. In other words, swoon. I was not the only one in love with this boy. I’d estimate about 95% of the girls in my class were vying to be his. I was convinced he was into me, in all of my braceface glory, until I realized that all he wanted were answers to homework. Sayonara pal.
I moved after 6th grade, and forgot about him completely until now. A quick Facebook search yields nothing.