That was the day that I first met Thea, she insisted on being called that. Her full name was Theadosia, an odd spelling and a name that the older boys used to mock her.
She was pretty, absolutely and undoubtedly pretty. She was the type of girl my brother cut out of his magazines and stuck on his bedroom walls.
The pale blue dress and pale skin gave her an angelic glow, flowers woven into her plait that sat over her shoulder.
Though, she wasn't as perfect as I'd made out. Seconds later she stumbled, falling flat onto her face and then, to my bewilderment, she rolled over and laughed. I know I wouldn't of at that age. I was the type of child that would cry over any little thing, something that didn't quite make me popular back then.
I'm not going to lie and say I took in her facial expression, all I knew was that she was pretty when she smiled. I can't remember the laugh that passed her lips either, funny how memory fades in that way.
She wasn't a new person, that was the thing. She had been in my class for awhile now, I just hadn't noticed her before. I wasn't a very observant child, only focussing on what was infront of me which brings me to wonder on how exactly I noticed her that day.
I was sat on a table, the makeshift wipeable one you get in school in the younger years, with a smear of paint on my cheek and the rest painting my hands.
She was by the door to the outside, not a speck of dirt on her hands or pale blue dress. I wasn't an outside person because while I didn't mind getting dirty, it was quite the opposite actually, I would end up falling and tripping over my two left feet. That would end in me crying. So, yeah, I stayed inside.
It was the begging, some would say, of myself and of who I am because that was the first time I remembered liking her. Thea. She was all I could think about that day. I would send her sideways glances, making sure she wasn't going to see. Though, most were from out the window with paint smeared hands that left my fingerprints on whatever surface I touched.
I didn't want to touch her.
I was sure I'd taint her, leave red finger prints on her arm, blue paint smearing her hair and breaking apart the delicate flowers that she wore. I was so sure that yellow would surely leave stains on her dress, bright stains that would ruin it.
Washing the paints became a habit more than a chore and I found myself by the sink with the open window watching her. I didn't have clean hands for long, going back to painting by the table after every wash.
I spent alittle longer than necessary, caught up in watching most of the others outside yelling and running. Occasionally, I'd catch a wisp of her laughter or voice, see a flash of blonde hair that would soon dissappear back to underneath the climbing frame which she had made her home that day.
I felt jealous. Some kid I can't remember the name of now was in there with her, he moved away a few weeks later but my grudge still ensued. She had her old friend in there with her too, Georgia. She was pretty too, reminded me of the old French movies my parents watched when they had a moment to sit down. She had nothing on Thea though.
I guess that was the first time that I can remember looking at someone, the first time that someone had trapped my attention fully on them.
"Thea" The teacher had called her later on in the day, her head turning away from whatever task she had been doing before leaving her seat. She had to give the papers out, it was her turn to do it today. What was on them I can't remember but I remember my hands shaking lightly as I grabbed the paper and dropping it onto the floor. I was such a klutz, not that I wasn't now anyway.
She had left by then, moved back to her seat and sat nestled in the middle of their trio and immeadiately talking excitedly with them about something or other, the noise from the class made it impossible to make out that one conversation from where I sat at the back.
That was another thing about her. She was bright and clever and radiated an aura that drew people to her. She was the type who sat at the front, had passion everytime she spoke burning in her eyes and voice, someone who was confident and knew the answer to everything.
Well, maybe she didn't know the answer to everything but she sure knew alot more than I did at that age. Hell, she probably knows more than me even now.
She was pretty and smart and confident and seemingly like an angel that had somehow fell to the earth.
She was the first girl I loved, the first one that caught my attention like that. She was pretty and I liked it.
But oh, it was all so wrong.
