Don't Mention It. Ever.

Diplomacy is not my strong suit.  Tact and I are not close companions, either.  I open my mouth with the best of intentions, but there's really no guarantee what is going to come out.   I might say something very complimentary, or I could spew forth some nonsense about how the Giant Malaysian Honey Bee lives in very tall trees.  I was much, much worse when I was in the seventh grade.  I was gawky and gangly and found myself with curves when I was not the least bit ready for them.  I was also extremely black and white about everything; and extremely honest.  It was as if that special lasso that Wonder Woman was always throwing about was perpetually around my shoulders; I could not tell a lie.Worse, I was compelled to reveal information best left unspoken.  I would have made a horrible spy. 

Before classes at Kirby Junior High School, all the students would 'hang out' in the courtyard.  Hanging out involved all the girls taking up strategic spots which allowed for optimal ogling of the "cute" boys.  The boys would just hang out in front of the gym in a huge blob of pre-testosterone, pushing and shoving at one another in order to demonstrate their coolness.

On this particular morning, my friend Cathy and I were hanging around, mooning over a boy named Kenny.  Kenny was a handsome boy whose shoulders had widened , and he looked close enough to manly for us to swoon over.  Cathy and I never actually swooned or said "He's dreamy!"  But he totally was dreamy.  Think young Patrick Dempsey, before Grey's Anatomy made him annoying.  Kenny was throwing a football to his friends, showing off his arm muscles. Cathy and I watched Kenny, just like all the other girls. 

And then I saw something that meant that I had to speak to him. Had to.  It was a compulsion that could not be denied.  I had to speak to Kenny and tell him what I had seen.  Now. 

I left the safety of the sidelines and moved into the courtyard, where Kenny caught a football right in front of me.  I flushed beet red, my face warm in the morning sunlight. All of the other girls were looking at me, some glaring, others encouraged by what they saw as my bravery.  Kenny himself smiled benevolently at me, as one smiles at the village idiot.  Encouraged, I motioned him closer, so that I could whisper quietly in his ear, and Kenny, that handsome boy, put his hand on my shoulder, and leaned ever so close.  My heart was aflutter, my stomach flipflopping all over the place.   I could have kissed his cheek, it was so close. 

"Your pants are unzipped," I said, looking up at him with eyes that screamed "Please don't hate me!"  I quickly looked away while he checked, expecting to hear the standard "thank you".   Then Kenny, the benevolent, turned as red as I was and moved quickly toward the gym.   



Prompt:  A Seventh Grade Memory