The Freshmen

Can’t be held responsible
‘Cause she was touching her face
I won’t be held responsible
She fell in love in the first place

The first time I had butterflies in my stomach, I was in the third grade. It wasn’t because of that impending doom that involves my Math assignment and/or a science project about growing plants out of cotton which I was procrastinating on around that time. His name was Brian Sibulo. Of course, that was his real name. I mean. Now, he’s probably in his late 30s and he does not have a clue who I am.

He was a freshman at that time in my Dad’s English class. My dad sometimes brings me to one of his classes. An all-boy-school plus the only girl in the classroom — that’s somewhat a big deal for a third grader from a  Catholic all-girl-school. A little grin always comes up to my face when I pass by B114. That was the name of the classroom.

Brian was different from all those fresh out of puberty squirts. He smiled at me the first time he  saw me walking with my Dad. He pinched my cheek at one time and let me sat on his lap.He pretends to listen to my Dad during his class and I would just look at his awesome face and sigh. Of course, that not what I did, I was in the third grade. I simply doodle away in his notebook while he effortlessly pretends to listen to my Dad’s lessons.

The definition of crush spelled out his name and from my innocent little giggle when he asked if he’s cute, I could pretty much tell that he is my first ever dreamboat, until one day he said he’ll show me something.

Shut the front door. It’s not what you think it is.

So one day, he, as usual asked me to sit on his lap while my Dad lectures away. For some reason he trusted Brian, to have let me sit on his lap. And I trusted him too and wished that he’ll pull out a lollipop from his pocket and give it to me as a sign of his unwavering devotion.

But of course that wasn’t the case. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and instead picked the very first picture  that I have mentally burned the very first time I laid my eyes on it.

It was his girlfriend at that time (who knows she may have been Mrs. Sibulo now or the mother of his first bastard, who gives a fart?). I stared at it for a very long time. She was very pretty and she was from my school too. And I hated her guts, I think.

Brian started blabbling about Sandra. Actually, I wasn’t so sure if that was her name. I was mentally spacing out in between. But what I did remember — is  him asking me if  she was pretty and if I wanted to be like her someday.

I might have said yes. I wanted to be Sandra or whatever her name was. I don’t like her innocent smile or her pimple-free face though. I wanted to be a Sandra because Brian wanted her.  I smiled at him  and pretended I was happy as a clam but in my mind I was really mentally cursing him and his Sandra.

And so that’s how I held my very first grudge and how I became the little school girl who punched the next student who called me “fat girl”. Yep, it was in my Dad’s class too – a classmate of Brian’s and he became the easy scapegoat for my passive-aggressive tendencies towards the first dreamboat.