[June, 1989] The Spark is Gone
I don’t really like George anymore. I guesse the spark is gone. He asked me out and I said “I don’t know” and he just said “forget it.” I don’t really care. I’m over him. 10 more days of school.
I had a dream that Marcela and me were together and I asked if she wanted to be friends again and we started crying.
Such fickle hearts 11-year-olds have. Just a few months earlier I claimed to be “madly in love” with George, and here I was, responding to his attempt at courtship with indifference.
I still remember how nervous I was when he asked if I wanted to go on a date. The idea of asking my parents for permission seemed overwhelming and when I looked at his swarthy features, I didn’t know that I was properly attracted to him. Or maybe the whole concept of dating just seemed too daunting for me at the time. Whatever the case, I “guesse” felt the same ambivalence, considering he took back his request pretty much right away.