I Wonder Whatever Happened to Tim B.

He had black hair and the most lovely olive skin. He seemed exotic to me as we rode the bus together every day. We spent our third grade year in the same class and I was smitten. His name was Tim B., written in perfect third grade teacher script on a sticker on the front of his desk, and he was the only other student that scored perfect scores on all of his spelling tests. I was sure we were destined to be together based solely on our ability to spell words correctly. Yes, I was always a sucker for the intellectuals.

I'm not sure that Tim B. ever really noticed me. I don't remember ever speaking to him. We sat on opposite sides of the classroom, he played kickball with the boys during recess while I played on the jungle gym or swings, and we sat on opposite sides of the bus. During a class field trip, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I had one of my friends ask one of his friends to ask him to "go with me". His friend relayed his response...a big fat no. I was devastated until I heard him ask someone later that day what "go with me" even meant. He had thought I wanted him to actually go with me somewhere. It was in this instant that I realized that he wasn't really that smart at all.

Tim B. was promptly forgotten until later that year he puked in the hallway outside our classroom. He had an awful nickname for the rest of the year and then he moved away. Never to be heard from again.