October 1958 — George is 15

The new school year had started just barely over a month ago now. You were new to this school. You had to transfer from another secondary school because of something

one random day your mum switched your school at the beginning of this new school year.

By now, you’d became a lot more passive and withdrawn. More thoughtful than loud and outgoing. Your light had dimmed, but you still were that little boy who wanted to be passionate and expressive with your love on the inside.

—

You had seen George around a few times now. He was in your art and french class. You exchanged eye contact often and shared little smiles.

His wonky teeth that looked like fangs peeked through his soft pink lips as he constantly tried to push his long, greased up quiff out of his eyes. You always spotted him leaving the school wearing his too big hand-me-down leather jacket he always kept stuffed in his satchel.

Now, you were in french class, right before the end of the day. You had a quiz and had to get into teams of 2 that your teacher had picked herself. You had to bite back your grin and cover your mouth when she said you’d be going with George.