The death of me.

Sarah Becker, the first and best example of my relationship with girls. It was in 8^th Grade. We were the best of friends, always talking, joking around, everything was peachy until the second she found out I had a crush on her. I told Mark DeLuca, who told Jenny Graham, who told Matt O’Connell, who told Sarah.  That day was probably the end of my innocence.

I’m sitting there drinking my Ecto Cooler juice box, eating a ham and cheese, and out of peripheral vision I see Matt and Sarah, and more specifically Sarah looking directly at me and giggling her high pitched giggle.  She knew, and I knew she knew.  She even knew that I knew.

She comes up, and meekly utters out a single syllable

Hi.

With that my face is redder than the reddest tomato you could ever see.  I can’t speak, I can’t think, and I can’t do anything but be painfully aware of how awkward and small I feel. That is the day Sarah and I stopped being friends, and she started to be the girl I grade-school loved.