I don't remember how we met. I mean, I know the first time I saw him, but we never really had an introduction. I saw him my first day of sixth grade, sixth period: math class. He's a grade above me, and I had double jumped in mathematics, but I was too terrified of "upper classmen" to make any older friends then. But I remembered him; after all, who could really forget a guy that had fiery hair, pale and freckled skin, and mostly wore black?
Summer before seventh grade, I auditioned for a part in my local youth theater's production of High School Musical; at the time, I enjoyed the stage and loved the people at Showase Youth Commmunity, so despite my hatred of the Disney phenomenon, I went out for a place. I was given the role of a thespian (you know, a theater geek?) and at the first practice, there he was, sitting across the stage. I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn't place his name until after the parents left and we played the ever infamous name game. "Jimmy," he had said, and I was determined to befriend him.
At school, he had three of my classes, since we were both in our middle school's gifted program and they group together seventh and eighth grades because of lacks in funding. We had lunch together, and soon fourth period Language Arts with Mrs. Jacobs became my favorite.
Jimmy and I passed notes, but not regular ones. We had this song, "The Music or The Misery" by Fall Out Boy, that we sung sometimes and on these notes, we'd just write a lyric back and forth until the song was finished. With this, at HSM practice we were inseperable, and he took my phone and put his number in my contacts while I did the same with his. When I got it back, I had found Jimmy under "Him" in my contacts with a rather odd picture to match. And then I fell.
Wanting to be closer, I confided in him the secret that I was cutting, which he was seemingly set out to stop. Practice later that week, towards the end, there's a scene in my mind that I just can't get out of perfect detail: him sitting behind me, pulling the chair I was in closer to him, the chair on its back legs. His arms were wrapped around my chest, and all it let me know was that, maybe, he was interested in being with me. I honestly didn't know how I felt about a relationship at all, considering I had had a relationship lasting a year and three months that I still wasn't quite over. I let the weekend come and basically asked him out over email that Friday night. He said yes.
I was still uncomfortable around him at school, and so all we would do was hug and hold hands. HSM rehearsal was different, and I don't really remember why, but I do know that during a break before hardcore practice, he took me down the hall near the bathrooms and held me in this captor grip and told me that there was one way he'd let go; from the way he looked at me with those ligth blue eyes, I could tell it was a kiss. And so I did.
Jimmy and I barely kissed in this part of our relationship, and being the stupid girl I was at twelve, I was always caught up in drama and jealousy and whatever stupid crap I used to be invloved with then. I thought he was "cheating" on me with one of his close friends, and I flipped, essentially. After HSM was over, and a few days before Thanksgiving break, I broke up with him. Seven weeks, gone.
Well, I had tried to get him to care, and I was basically begging him to take my razor blade and "rag" so I wouldn't cut anymore; he refused it and told me to just keep it because he couldn't handle it any longer. I got reported to my guidance counselor for cutting and she called my mom, leaving me home alone with my very very upset mother for five days; I stopped cutting until January.
Between late November and mid-January, I had gone through three other guys before getting that I was never done with Jimmy (who was still my friend at the time). Our theater had cast for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and I was an Oompa-Loompa at first, later adding Mrs. Bucket to my roles. During a practice where they were only blocking Charlie and Willy Wonka, I took the chance and asked him out again, using hypotheticals. We went back out before practice ended.
I had gotten over that fifteen month relationship and was going to put my all into this second chance; first week of the renewed relationship, and we were making out like crazy every morning and every other chance we could get. At lunch, his hand would find its way between my legs, over jeans. Mrs. Jacobs had debate teams up and running, and because we were partners with two weekends remaining before the debate (we were pro-death penalty), I went over to his house so we could "practice." It turned into doing absolutely nothing but rolling around on his bed, making out and him trying to get me to put my hand down his pants, which failed. The next weekend, he spent at my place and stayed for dinner. My mom hovered so much we could barely even touch each other. It drove me nuts.
Even though me skipping fifth period (Spanish) would upset him, we would always get over it by the next school morning, which we spent together with another couple behind the school, by the locker rooms. One time, these sixth graders were throwing rocks at us and one hit me in the back of my head; he chased after them and I believe took one down. I think that was one of the only times he was ever protective of me or showed he cared.
Last couple days of school, he came up with this bright idea to sneak into my house late one night, and it was implied we'd have sex. After he persisted, I agreed to it; too bad I live in a gated community with security. They caught him a half hour after midnight, to which the police called my house phone, and when my mother woke up, she called his mom to update her on what had happened. I was let back to bed after a long lecture, and I begged the next morning to let him still come to my birthday party that Saturday; she allowed it, but only if I wrote his parents an apology letter. I did, and we took it over that afternoon; he had one for my mother, too. In the end he still came to my party, and we were lucky enough that my mom left us alone and stayed inside. At least, when she wasn't taking pictures.
My real birthday was a couple days later, and Jimmy's the day after. While his party was the night of my dance recital's dress rehearsal, I still caught the last hour of the fun. It was what all the movies said "older" parties were: 7 minutes in heaven, spin the bottle, and it was certainly nothing my mother would allow, but I didn't care. Seventh grade to me was reckless, where I could rebel against what I hated and what I had grown up with. When Jimmy and I made it into the closet together, we could hear the people outside the door counting, but it didn't stop us from making out like no tomorrow. Not to mention this was my first experience feeling a guy's penis. To let it be less awkward, the rules had been changed to two minutes instead of seven, and so he and I could finish up what we had done in his closet, we snuck off to the bathroom. Lips locked, we managed to take off each other's shirt, and he was on my bra when I could hear the other kids asking where he and I were. He never got near my breasts when I put my bra and shirt back on and went back to his room with the others. Spin the bottle kind of failed because I only got to kiss girls.
We didn't see each other much the rest of the summer, and I went to my first session of TIP with the promise that he and I would talk every night. I found Graham the first day of classes, and I didn't know what I felt after knowing I was cheating. It was laughable to me, since Graham was such a sweetheart, even though he barely knew anything about me. Didn't know about Jimmy, didn't know about my cutting, didn't know about my friends back home. All we had were twenty days, and when those days ended I had no intentions of talking to Graham ever again.
A couple weeks later, and I was back home, Jimmy's and I's six months together came to a grinding halt; I was upset, but later I could see his point. He was going to high school, let alone not the high school across the parking lot, and he wanted freedom. I thought it was the end of him and I, but I refused to let that be the reality. Even though Graham didn't let me go, and I grew to realize I was head over heels in love with the boy I cheated with.
And in November of 2009, I got what I thought I had wanted. Regardless of Graham.
To be continued...
Love,
Caitlyn
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