She was blonde (people that know me are already laughing), she had short (kind of curly) hair. I know I must have talked to her at some point, but I don't remember ever saying any words to her. I was in second grade. She was my first crush ever. I'm not sure how long I had a crush on her. It's odd because I left at the beginning of the fifth grade, but I think she had already moved before that. Back in the day, when I was in second grade, I had learned of this hand sign that meant "I love you." You took your hand, folded your middle and ring fingers into your palm and you had it. I remember sitting in class (I'm pretty sure she sat somewhere in front of me and to the side) and doing this sign and showing her during class. I don't have any memories of any conversations with her, but I remember telling her "I love you" in sign language.
When I was in third grade (I'm pretty sure it was third) my mother, who ran a little babysitting operation out of our house, called me into the living room. In there she was talking to another lady. My mother asks me, "Do you know a Mikel in your class?" I froze. Literally. I could not move even if there was a fire. Not that I knew the Mikel they were talking about was the same one I had a crush on, but even the possibility made me lose any motor functions. My mother showed the woman a class picture from second grade and the woman pointed to Mikel and said, "Yah, that's her." At that point my mother informed me that she was going to be babysitting Mikel. Mikel. Babysitting. Coming to my house. In MY room. It was more than my poor little heart could take. I did the only thing that much excitement and adrenaline could do to my small body, I ran. I ran straight out of the living room full speed into my room, I slid under my bed and hid there. Not even the girl being there, but the possibility that she might be made me hide. I layed there, trying to calm down.
Eventually she did come over. I don't remember much about it, but I know I didn't turn on the charm. If anything, the roots of my hopelessness with women started rather early. One day she was in my room. I was there and at least one other boy that my mother was babysitting (there may have been two). The boy(s) and I were standing next to each other near the door (quick exit in case anything weird happened, I guess) and Mikel was standing in front of us. It was like we were in line for some inspection. The other boy (or boys) were significantly younger than Mikel and I. I don't remember by how much, but I remember being older than them. Somehow the conversation made it's way to point where Mikel said, "You know I could kiss one of you." I looked at her, down at the other boy (or boys), back at her, back at him (them) and then back at her. I knew it had to be me. I had this guy next to me beat no problem. Piece of cake, so I took her in my arms and layed a big fat kiss right on her lips. Okay, so I didn't do THAT, but what I did was certainly as romantic. I jumped onto the second bunk of my bunk bed, leaving the poor kid(s) at her wraith. I would like to know what exactly went through my head at the time. I'm thinking it was just a basic surival instinct, the only way this was going to end was her breaking my heart so I fled. I know I didn't think girls had cooties at the time and I know I kind of wanted to kiss her, I just didn't know how to go about that. At some point she moved and I moved and that was about it. What facinates me is the reaction to these feelings I had. There is something about being young and being in love that doesn't happen when you get older.
I'm not sure if this happened before or after the hiding in my bed to avoid a kiss incident, but one day we went to the pool. I think my mother was driving and I was in the back seat. I'm not exactly sure how this worked, but I believe Mikel and another friend of mine (I guess my mother babysitted her too?) Jessica were in the back back of our Chevy Blazer. In retrospect they wouldn't of had any seat belts one which makes me wonder which part of my memory is fuzzy on this. So back there was a bag that my mother kept changes of clothes for everybody, since we were going to be swimming. In said bag, MY clothes sitting in there, waiting to betray me. This was probably still third grade and being a young boy I had a love for comic book characters, and the Ninja Turtles. My mother also bought me my clothes, including my underwear. And like any good young man I loved me some underoos. So inside this bag was my Ninja Turtle underoos. And soon enough these same underoos were in the hand of Mikel. I'm sure the color of my face was beet red as I yelled at Jessica for going through my stuff (I'm sure my voice was more the tone of a wounded baby kitten than that of anger).
I think that's it, the only real memories I have of her. I really don't remember ever saying goodbye to her, which is kind of sad.