When I was 7 years old I was deeply in love with Amanda Walters. Of course as love goes, she would have nothing to do with me.

Firstly she was 9 so the age difference was a major hurdle. Her a mature woman and I but still a child. Also she came from a wealthy family and I… well lets just say if my family had two nickels to rub together they probably stole them.

But as they say, the heart wants what the heart wants and when it came to Amanda my heart was either melting at the sight of her blue eyes or fluttering whenever she smiled.

I would get up at 6am and walk a half hour to school everyday to make sure I was there before Amanda’s parents dropped her off so that I could see her when she walked in.

It was a cold walk too; I couldn’t afford a winter coat so I wore three hand-me-down sweaters and socks on my hands. For boots I just had sneakers with a couple bread bags over them held up with rubber bands.

I could have taken the bus of course but it got to school too late. It sounds stupid I know but to see her pull that hood back, her cheeks and lips kissed winter red and her hair slightly messed from the static. It did not matter how cold it was outside I would be sweating by the time her mittens came off.

All the odds were against us being together; age, social class and the fact that she never spoke to me. But I was convinced she just needed to get to know me and would soon fall for my charm.

I had been working on a plan all summer. First I had to make sure that whenever Amanda turned around she saw me.

I arranged to sit across from her in class by bribing fat Sandy Bench to trade me seats in exchange for some cookies I liberated from someones lunch pail.

Then I needed Tommy Riggs  to fake a sore foot so I could be Amanda’s square dancing partner in P.E. This cost me my entire marble collection, including Momma Wobble – a brown cats eye shooter with a big chip that made it roll in circles.

Fail and fail! The teacher, Mrs. Harding, made me move back to my seat to adhere to her Nazi alphabetical seating chart and I over looked the fact that in square dancing your partner is constantly changing so I had no more contact with Amanda than I would have if I had kept my marbles.

It was time for my master plan. I did not want to have to resort to this kind of emotional manipulation but all’s fair in love and war.

Step one, intentionally getting caught throwing snowballs at the Gym windows. This got me a brutal paddling and a week of lunch detention, which involved cleaning the class rooms while everyone else was at recess.

The previous summer I had swiped five roses from Mrs. Tredgers prize rose garden. and carefully placed each rose in a separate volume of the encyclopedia Britannica all summer.

The plan was golden; as I swept the classroom I would sneak a rose into Amanda’s desk.

Everyday after recess she finds a rose left by some anonymous stranger and by Friday when she is simply mad with curiosity I hand deliver the final flower and our hearts become as one.

The first day worked like a charm. She found the rose and her and her friends giggled and gushed wondering who it was from. The second day was even better, and by the third she had started wearing the rose pinned to her dress.

I could barely contain my excitement each day. Finally Friday morning came and I got up extra early put on my best corduroy pants and button down shirt, and splashed on some Old Spice – the ladies can’t resist Old Spice.

Once I got to school I waited, excited and nervous. I saw her car pull up in front and Amanda’s father came in. My first thought was how perfect, I can give her the rose and ask her father for her hand at the same time. Maybe we can even get the cerimony before lunch.

My excitment quickly faded however when I realized that he was by himself. He went into the Principal’s office and after a few minutes he came out, got back in his car and drove off.

Later that morning in class during attendance – from which Amanda’s sweet mellifluous “present” was noticeably absent – Principal Gaines came in and made the announcement. Amanda would not be coming back because she was moving away.

My heart sank, my ears were ringing and I felt a cold chill over my entire body. I swallowed hard and could feel my shattered heart in my throat like broken glass. The sun had gone out in my world!

Later I learned that Amanda’s parents had been secretly going through a divorce, not even their kids knew. Amanda’s mother, a social drunk, was going to lose custody of the kids so she packed them up and took off with them in the middle of the night. No one knew where she went.

Months went on and though the world was still notably darker I eventually found a bearable emotional state in which I could function, a mix of melancholy and brooding anger.

There was only a week left before Christmas break and I was looking forward to not having to come in everyday to be reminded of the emptiness.

One morning as I came into school and Principal Gaines pulled me into his office. No surprise because since I had lost my heart I had taken up a life of delinquency.

I would take any dare put before me, I didn’t care, what did I have to lose? I figured they found out I broke into the 8th grade science teachers, desk and taken his candy stash.

But when I got in the office I was handed a package. Principal Gaines said that it came to the school addressed to me. They would have returned it because it is against school policy to accept personal packages but there was no return address.

I tore the paper a little and I could smell her, a faint sweet scent like peppermint and fresh baked cookies familiar to the Strawberry Shortcake line of perfumes, only the best with her. I pulled out an envelope and inside was a photo, it was Amanda’s school photo from the previous year.

On the back of the photo she wrote: “Dear Steven, Thank you for the roses, stay sweet and stay warm.” At the bottom was a little smiley face with hearts for eyes. I tore the rest of the paper off of the package and inside I found a new bright red winter coat.

After 25 years, the coat is long worn out, the photo faded and the final rose has turned dust between page 102 and 103 in volume 12 of  the Encyclopedia Britannica. While I don’t pretend to be a romantic I cannot recall a cold winter since that day.