One heart for two hearts

This a short non fiction story about me in kindergarten. Suggestions welcomed.

I liked Patrick. Patrick liked me, and we both enjoyed drawing each other hearts. We would start the day pretending not to notice one another, even though we sat at the same table. Then, after coming back from the bathroom or grabbing something from my book bag, I would return to my desk to find a small folded piece of paper on my desk with the words “To Kali” written in sloppy five-year-old handwriting. I could always tell it was from Patrick by the way he hunched his body over his desk, trying to look as focused on his work as possible. His checks would turn rosey pink and his chestnut eyes never moved.

On the inside was a single pink heart, since pink was my favorite color. He would draw the top so that it looked like lower case M’s and then connect the bottom with a giant “V”. I thought his hearts looked weird, but I didn’t mind. I’d just smile, rip a corner of a piece of paper, and then draw two hearts on the inside, only mine were red, which was his favorite color. Then I’d fold it in half and, on the front, write in my neatest handwriting possible “To Patrick.”

The pattern would continue, but with each torn piece of paper passed between our desks, one more heart would be added until eventually we had entire strips of paper covered in hearts of all colors and sizes. After a while, I started getting creative , using the hearts to write his name in giant letters, or drawing an even bigger heart out of smaller ones. On days when I was feeling exceptionally flirty, I would design little stick figures that resembled us. One would have long golden brown hair with fat green dots for eyes and would be wearing a pink triangular dress; The other with hair drawn in little brown tufts and a huge U-shaped smile that took up most of his face. He continued to draw his silly looking hearts.

The teacher eventually noticed our excessive note passing and moved us to opposite sides of the room. It was an obstacle, but we were not easily discouraged. We would wait until the teacher was deep into her lesson, a time we thought she wouldn’t be paying much attention to us. Then, as ninja-like as possible, I would slide out of my seat, crouch low to the floor, and sprint to his desk, hoping that everyone else’s seats would hide me from the teacher. Sadly, I never made it. Every time I tried, the teacher would catch me and demand to know what I was doing. After the third time I used the excuse “I forgot something in my cubby,” she figured out that I was lying and put my card on yellow. Patrick just sat quietly with his head down, trying to hide the folded piece of paper in his hand.

About two months into the school year a new girl named Savanna came to school. She seemed pretty nice at first, like any other little girl who wore pretty dresses, had long blonde hair, and smiled a lot. Then one day she some kid told her that Patrick liked me and that I liked him and decided that she was going to do something about it. I’d never seen the two talk to each other, or even sit next to each other on the reading rug before, so why she got so angry, I wasn’t sure. She never said hi to me, or let me borrow her crayons, even though I always offered mine to her. She even went as far as sitting at the toy kitchen table during play time and telling me to “back off” because Patrick was her’s, followed by a threat to beat me up if I didn’t do so. Not sure what else to say, I asked why we couldn’t just share him. Savanna just shook her head.

The dispute between Savanna and I didn't last very long because a few months after she arrived, Patrick moved to Pennsylvania. I didn't believe the teacher when she announced it to the class a few days beforehand, but when he didn't show up to school the next week, I figured that she was probably right. I wasn't too sad or upset about it. Savanna didn't mess with me anymore, which was a good thing, but whenever I looked at the hearts he drew me earlier in the year, I missed him.

The school continued and before I knew it, Kindergarten was over and first grade was right around the corner, and then shortly after, second, third, and fourth. Eventually Patrick became just a memory, something I thought about to make me smile. He was replace with other boys, and I was probably replaced with other girls, but he always had, and will always have, a special place in my heart. My real one, that is.

Reviews

[Rose of many colours]

Awesome I realy enjoyed this write.. it makes me smile. God Bless

[Tabby H.]

I love the simplicity and the sweetness of this story.It made me smile.:-)