I was in the third grade and we took the same bus to school.
He was fair-skinned and had rosy cheeks.
He had thick, soft, jet black hair.
He had thick eyebrows and piercing eyes.
He was the class and bus clown.
He was that kid who joked around all the time.
I loved him.
He was my second love.
Seeing him every morning on the bus eagerly waiting for me to show up made me happy.
He would make fun of me and joke around with me, but we never touched each other.
I remember the first time we touched.
He and Kamal were sitting behind me and Dina that day; we were sitting at the back.
My hair was straightened that day; I had just gotten it done at the hairdresser’s.
We were sitting quietly when I suddenly felt some strands of my hair being pulled gently.
I couldn’t tell if it was the wind or if he was playing with it.
I stayed still and didn’t try to find out.
Because I didn’t want him to stop.
“Shame on you, it’s wrong to play with a girl’s hair,” the bus supervisor berated him.
I was so happy! It meant that it wasn’t the wind; it was him!
He answered back and said, “She’s not annoyed, by the way. She likes it.”
She looked at me and I told her that I wasn’t annoyed.
He kept playing with my hair the rest of the way.
It was the best bus ride ever.
That was the first time a guy touched me.