Dedication: This essay is dedicated to Rebecca Cooley. The time and space between us has only made you more beautiful.
Rebecca Cooley had sat in the same seat for the last eight weeks but I barely noticed her since the school year began. But today something was different; she was the prettiest girl my eyes had ever seen. Our eyes met across the room, I quickly averted my eyes. I was a seven year old second grader at Weatherly Elementary. The only thing I knew was that her name was Rebecca Cooley and that I could not help thinking about her. Until this day, I had cared solely for ice-cream, recess, and sports. I was confused. Why did my mind tell me to keep looking at this girl? I knew that boys were supposed to like baseball, soccer, and football—not girls.
The hands on the clock seemed to stop as I thought about how the sunlight glinted off her dark brown hair. Unsure what to do, I consulted my three best friends. The ever-wise Matthew knew exactly what to do. Most of Matthew’s worldly knowledge came from the movies he watched, especially the movies his mom picked out, “the stupid movies without robots or superheroes.” He often shared with us his misery about watching those chick-flicks, but he dared not complain to his parents lest he lose that most revered privilege, watching PG-13 movies! His instructions: just go over there and kiss her, because that is what always worked in the movies he had seen. My friend Shawn immediately proclaimed that I was too chicken to kiss Rebecca. I unquestionably detested being called a chicken, but being strong of heart I was able to ignore his banter.
I held up well under their pressure until the ante rose above my tolerance threshold. Jeffery, the shrewdest of my three friends, offered me his Incredible Hulk pencil sharpener, the Rolls-Royce of pencil sharpeners, to kiss her. The Incredible Hulk’s stainless steel hand gripped dual pencil ports with blades as strong as The Incredible Hulk himself; it was the envy of every second grader in Mrs. Adcock’s class. But the straw that broke the camel’s back came when Shawn dared me to kiss Rebecca. He did not just use the run of the mill dare. He used the coup de grâce of all dares, the infamous triple-dog-dare. I no longer possessed the willpower to chicken out. My head was screaming no, but young and foolish I declared that I would kiss her.
I knew with perfect certainty that I should have nothing to do with Rebecca. For a long time I had feared the hair pulling wrath of girls as exemplified by my sister. Girls had cooties, played with dolls, did not like dirt, and most importantly did not appreciate the indispensable talent of burping the letters of the alphabet. It was the ultimate sign of weakness. I wanted nothing to do with their kind. I secretly held hope that an opportunity to kiss her would never manifest itself. Not deterred by my unwillingness, Matthew formulated a plan so that Rebecca and I would be the last two people in the classroom before recess. As soon as we were alone I was to get the job done. I searched for some possible escape. Unrelenting, Shawn passed an unsigned note to Rebecca telling her that a secret would be revealed to her if she waited to be the last to go to recess. Shawn knew the target well. She, like all giggly second grade girls, could not resist the lure of a secret. The ball had been set into motion and there was nothing I could do to stop it although I desperately wanted to.
“Time for recess,” Mrs. Adcock called out. Normally this announcement stirred joyful anticipation in my soul, but now that anticipation had simply turned my stomach into one large knot. The inevitable time had come. I tried to slip out the door, but Shawn and Jeffery blocked the way. Matthew quickly joined them. They barred my path and forced me to wait. Students hurriedly exited the room until only Rebecca remained in her seat wondering who would reveal the juicy secret. I could take it no longer, I caved in. It was better to get it over with than face this ridicule from my three best friends. I had a date with destiny. Staring at my feet, I slowly trudged across the room. After what seemed like an eternity I arrived at her desk. I mumbled a lame greeting. Rebecca spoke with the voice of an angel, “Do you have a secret for me? Wait, what are you doing?” As I had already committed to this self-inflicted torture, I felt no need to respond. I quickly leaned over, closed my eyes and puckered my lips. For an instant, our lips touched. During that brief moment in time, I was certain that I was in heaven. My heavenly bliss ended when Rebecca screamed and pushed me away. Apparently, she was disgusted with the whole idea of being kissed by second grade boy. I ran as fast as my legs would take me down the hall and outside.
Within seconds, Matthew, Shawn, Jeffery, and the rest of the boys were circling me like vultures around a carcass. To rid myself of these drama scavengers, I told the tale of the last few minutes carefully leaving out the details of my brief brush with sensory heaven. I turned red from shame when they laughed at the ending of my tale. When the ridicule stopped we went to play kickball. By consensus, I was banned from playing because I now had cooties. I sat by myself waiting for this eternal recess to end. Across the school yard the girls gathered around Rebecca were looking directly at me, their mouths twisted in an expression of disgust like they had just sipped some rancid milk mixed with warm orange juice.
As the class filed in, Mrs. Adcock pulled me aside. She sternly told me to leave the girls in the class alone or else she would have to call my parents. I was on the verge of crying and calling my parents would only serve to further humiliate me. I felt the spotlight of shame shining on me long after my peers had forgotten the incident. The Cooley family moved two weeks after that fateful day. I often wondered whether Rebecca knew that I had mustered the bravery to kiss her only to escape certain mockery from the peanut gallery. To this day I secretly cling to the possibility that Matthew was right when he said, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
Disclaimer: My apologies to Logan Tucker. This was a long time ago. I have no plans for the immediate future.
epic.
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