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In the window of the big wooden
house across from Ricky, the girl sat doing her homework every day
except Wednesday, which was horseback riding. Ricky watched this,
memorizing her routine. He was 12, was suddenly getting feelings he
wasn't expecting, and had no idea how to go about this. He could always
talk to his dad, though. So Ricky started to ask his dad about this
stuff he was feeling. His dad smiled as he stopped Ricky from having to
verbalize stuff that 12-year-olds had trouble talking about. His dad
recounted all of his own nervous first loves in middle school.
Sometimes the stuff he did turned out to embarrass him or get him in
trouble, and other times he didn't do anything. He didn't regret any of
the embarrassing stuff, but regretted every time he never did anything.
So go do what your heart tells you, his dad said, no matter how much
you're worried by the consequences. Ricky gathered up as much courage
as he could, and marched over to the girl's house on a Wednesday. He
poured the gas for the lawn mower up and down the wall, and lit it. He
watched, swooning, as the whole wooden house burned away. First loves
are wonderful, even for pyromaniacs. |
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