Slipped Away
December 17, 1995
I was in fifth grade the first time I set eyes on you. It wasn't love at first sight; you always told me not to believe in such things. I wasn't even paying attention when our teacher first introduced you to the class. 6:00 AM hockey practices had me with my head down in the back row, trying to make up for lost sleep. So I didn't even notice when our teacher escorted you to the back row to the only empty desk, right beside me.
"MR. HORTON!" our teacher scolded, slamming a hand down on my desk to wake me up. I raised my head to see 25 other faces turned to stare at me and for the first time, I saw you, standing there looking at me skeptically.
No, you couldn't call it love at first sight, but there was something there. For the first time I had the undeniable urge to get to know someone, that someone being you. So I waited, a full 45 minutes to recess to be able to talk to you. When it finally came I found you by yourself on the swing-set, rocking forward and backwards on a swing ever so slightly.
"HEY!" I called out to you, your gaze left the pavement and found my eyes. I walked over and stood in front of you, "I'm Nathan."
"Nice to meet you." You turned your attention back to the pavement.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Ryder," you paused and looked up at me, "look, you don't have to be nice to me just because I'm new and you feel like you have to or whatever."
"No...I just," I faltered, "I just figured we should get to know each other, seeing as we'll be sitting together for the rest of the year."
"Oh."
"So what are you doing over here all by yourself anyways?"
"I'm swinging."
"Not really," I pointed out.
You let out a sigh and began to swing harder and faster until you were as high as you could possibly get and then you leapt from the swing, jumping several feet in the air and landed on the ground below. "That better?" you asked me sarcastically.
"How did you do that?"
"I learned back in Boston."
"Is that where you used to live?" You nodded. "Are you a Bruins fan?"
"I don't like hockey."
My jaw dropped. "How can you not like hockey? I love hockey!" I told you, as if it would make you change your mind.
"Of course you do, you're Canadian. That's pretty much all you're good at."
Before I could comment the bell rang and you began walking back towards the brick building, leaving me shocked and alone on the swing.
xxx
I had noticed the "For Sale" sign next to the Madigan's old mailbox and I had noticed the "Sold" sign as well, but I had never anticipated people actually moving in, or at least the idea of us getting new neighbors. But it was a reality I had to face that afternoon when the bus stopped in front of my house and I wasn't the only one getting off the bus. You also got off, walked into the Madigan's old house and slammed the door behind you.
"MR. HORTON!" our teacher scolded, slamming a hand down on my desk to wake me up. I raised my head to see 25 other faces turned to stare at me and for the first time, I saw you, standing there looking at me skeptically.
No, you couldn't call it love at first sight, but there was something there. For the first time I had the undeniable urge to get to know someone, that someone being you. So I waited, a full 45 minutes to recess to be able to talk to you. When it finally came I found you by yourself on the swing-set, rocking forward and backwards on a swing ever so slightly.
"HEY!" I called out to you, your gaze left the pavement and found my eyes. I walked over and stood in front of you, "I'm Nathan."
"Nice to meet you." You turned your attention back to the pavement.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Ryder," you paused and looked up at me, "look, you don't have to be nice to me just because I'm new and you feel like you have to or whatever."
"No...I just," I faltered, "I just figured we should get to know each other, seeing as we'll be sitting together for the rest of the year."
"Oh."
"So what are you doing over here all by yourself anyways?"
"I'm swinging."
"Not really," I pointed out.
You let out a sigh and began to swing harder and faster until you were as high as you could possibly get and then you leapt from the swing, jumping several feet in the air and landed on the ground below. "That better?" you asked me sarcastically.
"How did you do that?"
"I learned back in Boston."
"Is that where you used to live?" You nodded. "Are you a Bruins fan?"
"I don't like hockey."
My jaw dropped. "How can you not like hockey? I love hockey!" I told you, as if it would make you change your mind.
"Of course you do, you're Canadian. That's pretty much all you're good at."
Before I could comment the bell rang and you began walking back towards the brick building, leaving me shocked and alone on the swing.
xxx
I had noticed the "For Sale" sign next to the Madigan's old mailbox and I had noticed the "Sold" sign as well, but I had never anticipated people actually moving in, or at least the idea of us getting new neighbors. But it was a reality I had to face that afternoon when the bus stopped in front of my house and I wasn't the only one getting off the bus. You also got off, walked into the Madigan's old house and slammed the door behind you.