Firsts on Fridays

First on Friday is my little game to get your creative juices flowing.   I will give you a first and you tell us the story.  Write it like a story.

First heartbreak.


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He stood maybe four inches taller than me, smiling a dimpled smile that touched his eyes.

“Hi, Sarah,” he said. “Do you want to play with us?”

I shrugged. I could catch the ball better than half the boys on the playground, but my older brother stood not far away and glared. Wade had become his friend when he moved in at the beginning of the year.

I looked over to the other boys, my brother’s face twisted in a snarl. “I’d better not.”

“I won’t let you get hurt.” He smiled again, and my seven year old heart melted.

I had never thought of any boy as anything but someone to play ball with. Like another brother. But I didn’t want Wade to be my brother.

“Thanks, maybe next time.”

He went back to the game and I went back to watching.

On the bus ride home, my brother informed me that that boy was off limits. No explanations. Just a command to stay away.

Being stubborn, that would not do. Wade became an object of desire. Well, as much as a seven year old tomboy could have. I stared at him all the time, but rarely spoke to him.

Two months later, he moved, devastating me. It was then my older brother told me he went around kissing any girl that would let him.

I don’t know what broke my heart more, that he moved, or that it was possible he just wanted to add me to his list of conquest.


All I can see through my blurry tears is his hand on top of mine, holding it tightly.
He is attempting to comfort me at the same time he’s causing me the worst pain I’ve ever experienced.

Doesn’t that mean something? He has to still care if he’s reaching out, right?
I try to convince him of this. I tell him he does still love me, he just needs to give me a chance. I haven’t even done anything wrong!

It doesn’t work. . . .

He looks me right in the eye and says he ‘just doesn’t feel the same’ as he used to. What the heck? How does that happen?

Whatever. I finally understand he’s not going to change his mind, so I decide I’m going to be mad instead.

I look at him and just stare for a minute.
Although I’m angry, he’s still beautiful to me.
I want to memorize his face.

But not with that expression on it. . . . Pity. Screw you and your pity!

I snatch my hand out from under his, grab my bookbag off the floorboard, and get out of the car without a word.
I swing the heavy old GTO door shut, and give him one last glance before I head up the porch steps.

He smiles at me. Smiles! While tears are streaming down my face!

I turn away, this time for good, and head inside to hide in my room for the rest of my life.
The pain is so horrible, I’m sure I won’t live through the night.
My heart won’t be strong enough.

I will never forget this moment. Ever.

I won’t.


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