14 years old, a mouth full of braces, and very little exposure to the real world -- not to mention women.

Tall, tan, and beautiful.

Jenine.

I couldn't stop thinking about her.

She was in one of my classes for most of the year, until she transferred into another class.

But that didn't stop me from looking for her as I wandered campus with my few friends.

We all had crushes. And a couple of us talked about it.  A lot.

I remember the confidence and hope building in the dead of night.

Riding bikes in the evening at night can be a sort of dream world where anything is possible.

Talking about the future, the crushes, the daydreams, the "what if's".

It all made getting a girlfriend so "possible".

Until then sun rose on the next day, and we ventured to high school to great reality once again.

It wasn't so easy for us.

Hope typically faded during the days... until the night time riders would float across city streets again.

One day, my mind convinced me I had a chance.

We passed in the halls and I took a chance and looked at her.  She glanced back at me, and then quickly looked away.  As she passed, I took another chance and looked back, and she was whispering something to her friend.

Who knows what those whispers, lost in time, were.  Even she likely doesn't know.  Nobody does.

It was my first real crush.  A huge crush.

I never spoke to her.  She never spoke to me.

Sometimes hope in the night hours is enough.  It often is.  

The next year (sophomore year) she was gone with the wind.  Transferred.  Moved.  I'll never know.

I do hope all has gone well for my first crush, in this life...