Fourth grade and 5'5"

Did you know that I’ve only grown less than an inch taller since fourth grade? It’s true, though we won’t discuss how much I’ve grown wider – sufficely to say it’s somewhere between an inch and a yard. And not only was I the tallest girl in the fourth grade, but I was the most curvaceous. Puberty chewed me up and spit me out in about three weeks, leaving only emotional angst in its wake.

My advanced looks combined with my sweet elementary fashion skills and pathetic eyewear – let’s just say I now refer to those glasses as my “safety goggles” – made me part beauty queen, part circus freak. Some boys focused on the former. (Like Ben, who later told me he only “went out” with me because I was the only girl in our grade who “wore a bra for a reason.” Class act that one.) Some boys focused on the latter. Like Seth.

I loved Seth with all the passion a fourth grader can muster. I loved him so much that my shoes were covered in his name, though my proper upbringing gave me the restraint to only mark up the soles. I loved him so much that I had to refer to him in code so that no one besides me and my 78 best friends knew who I was referring to. We selected the name “54” as his code name because, for some unknown mathematical reason, all boys had to have code names that were multiples of the number 9. (It’s the hottest number, perhaps?) Apparently I was good at math because other girls settled for names like 18 and 27. But Seth – Seth was a 54.

He made this giant wave in the front of his hair that rippled all the way to the nape of his neck. He wore mock turtleneck Jimmy’Z shirts in bold geometric patterns. He rode a bike with the grace of a sixth grade boy. (And he was in sixth grade so he didn’t ride very special at all.)

I batted my lashes from across the blacktop. I wore my best Gap plaid shorts. I passed notes to a friend of a friend of a friend of Seth’s cousin, inquiring about his affections. I crank called him at slumber parties just so he knew I was out there, waiting for the moment when I could mutter, “Hi, is there Seth there?” without fear.

Then, a magical thing happened. At the big Battle of the Books competition held after school on a spring day, Seth and I found ourselves only a table away from each other, being quizzed on the nuances of “Bridge to Terabithia.” I tried and tried to make eye contact with him, but to no avail. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught him mouthing something to me.

“I love you.”

No, it couldn’t be. I looked again.

“I love you.”

There was true peace in the universe! Seth loved me. I loved him. We would be married shortly and start a family. We would be happy for always and forever.

“I love you,” I mouthed back with zeal.

Within moments a note came my way.

From Seth.

With a heart on the outside.

Anxiously, I undid the origami folding open and revealed the following message:

“I said, ‘I elephant you.’”

The old “I elephant you” trick. I had been duped.

My heart broke into a million pieces and I was despondent for what seemed like forever but was actually only two days. Which is when I met Jason, but that’s another boring post.

But I like to think the experience made me stronger.

But not taller.

No, never taller.