The next year I moved to Standard Six. Alain and Mila were in the same class as well. I made sure I was sitting near Alain again, and we chatted away every day as usual. I realized he was quite cute. Maybe he could be my boyfriend when I became older, I mused. I wasn’t sure what having a boyfriend involved, but I knew that you held hands, and the boy took you to the movies and brought you flowers and chocolates. It sounded nice, in any case.
One day I was daydreaming in the assembly while the Lord’s Prayer droned on and on. Since I wasn’t a Christian, I found having to say the compulsory prayer every day meaningless. Alain was in the line in front of me, and I was staring at him.
When we walked to class, my friend Mona said: “You looked like you wanted to be honeymooning with Alain! You like him. I know you like him.”
“Of course, I don’t like him. Don’t be so silly,” I said angrily.
But I was worried. The eleven year-old girls and boys in my class barely spoke to each other. If the girls thought I liked a boy, they would tease me relentlessly. I had just started wearing a small, white bra, and that made me self conscious enough. I didn’t need more headaches. The boy sitting behind me teased me about wearing a bra and tried to pull the strap. About half the girls wore bras, so the boys should have been used to it by now, but they were so silly. Boys were like that, and they couldn’t help it.
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