I always got on better with boys. Boys were not nasty. They were not evil. If you said a thing to a boy, he tended to believe you. First confession – Walter Wheeler, if you’re reading this, I told you in the playground that day that I was an Indian Princess: you believed me, and you have no idea how affectionate I have always felt towards you because of it. I said you could tell Indian Princesses because they were given little coloured dots to wear in the middle of their foreheads. I had probably seen a picture in Odhams Encyclopaedia, which I read as avidly as Charles, my boy detective, reads Wikipedia (A Study in Cerise 1/7 to 7/7). The item almost in the middle of my forehead was a boring, bog-standard mole, of course, but then, logically, someone would have had to get the boring brown one.
That wasn’t actually true, dear little Walter Wheeler, and I do hope you have not gone through your whole life believing that you went to school with an Indian Princess. It was the first lie I can ever remember telling and it didn’t seem like actually a lie at the time, know what I mean? It was what I wanted to be. It was how I imagined myself. I was just accidentally letting you in on my dreams. PS, Walter Wheeler. I also remember that you were the only one faster than me at Spelling. Respect! Also better at Maths, but then so was the whole class.
But the real Luv of my life was Adam Kozlowski. I was reminded of him by my previous post, Secrets and Lies, when I mentioned the Polish community in my town as I was growing up.
Adam Kozlowski was simply beautiful. The moment I first saw him, at five and three-quarters, I could see that. Adam Kozlowski was an angel come to life and I lusted after Adam Kozlowski in a weird, five and three-quarters way that I still don’t, and would honestly rather not, understand. He had white-blonde hair and pale brown, freckly skin and he was full of confidence – a real boys’ boy. Most of the time he ignored me. He liked playing Cowboys and Indians, which was a boys’ game. It involved a lot of galloping around on imaginary palominos and shouting Bang Bang You’re Dead and I’ll Tie You To That Tree, You Varmint.
Occasionally he would condescend to play Doctors and Nurses with me behind the canteen. On one memorable occasion he demanded that I show him Mine if he showed me His. He did show me His, but I can’t remember what it looked like – apart from small and pink. I chickened out and things started going downhill after that.
I suppose as time went by, being ignored whilst worshipping from afar wasn’t quite enough. I don’t know why I did it. I’d never done anything like it before and of course, never since. I carved I LUV ADAM KOZLOWSKI on the inside of one of the girls’ toilet doors. I even remember what I carved it with – a penny coin. It just seemed – as far as I remember – that I had to memorialise it.
Now, I was under the impression that no one but me knew that I Luv’d Adam Kozlowski but as it turned out, they did. A pair of scratty, self-important little girls (I can see them now – they were never seen apart) immediately went to one of the teachers and ‘reported’ that it must have been me wot dunnit, because I was only the one who Luv’d Adam Kozlowski.
No doubt I was shamed and embarrassed by my one and only act of vandalism. I got into trouble, which of course I deserved, but I can’t remember what the punishment was. It wasn’t important. The real punishment was knowing that everybody knew I Luv’d Adam Kozlowski.
Also Adam Kozlowski coming up to me in the playground the next day and jeering ‘I hear you Luv me, tee hee hee!’ before running off sniggering for yet another game of Cowboys and Indians.