I moved in when I was seven years old, and even as a gangly1 seven-year-old, I had eyes for2 the boy next door.
We grew up together. He taught me how to climb trees, how to skateboard and how to cuss3.
Years passed and uncountable love notes were placed upon his doorstep. I remember waiting and waiting for replies; but, somehow, they must have been lost along the way, although my naivete4 didn’t let me care too much.
And then one day, I did care. It’s funny how the changing seasons can bring reality to a little girl in pigtails5 and cause her to see out of the eyes of a young woman. All of a sudden, I became overly6 sad when he ignored me, and overly happy when he smiled at me. I scribbled7 his name all over my folder and read it with lovesick8 eyes. “B. Jay,” it said. “I love B. Jay.”
Unfortunately, by the time I was in seventh grade, he was way out of my league9, and, worst of all, he knew it. I would stare at him from across the hall, and, when his eyes met mine, he would quickly look away, pretending not to see me. I guess I wasn’t pretty enough or cool enough for his attention, and I wondered how he had so easily forgotten the days when we would run away from the world and hide for hours in the tree fort we built together out of plywood10 and old sheets.
Then one day, as I was munching11 on my after-school snack12, the phone rang, and it was him. B. Jay. I was confused. He had been avoiding me for months. Why would he just call out of the blue13?
“Do you wanna, uhhh, come over?” His voice was unfamiliar. It took me no longer than a second to reply.
“Okay. Sure, yeah, sure, umm, yeah,” I stuttered14 nervously.
Dial tone.
I was too excited to realize he hung up without saying good-bye. I walked quickly and casually to his front door, reminding myself to be cool.
The door opened, and I walked inside. His house smelled like old leather and detergent15. I breathed it in nervously.
“My parents aren’t here,” he said smiling.
I smiled back, completely unaware of what he meant.
He plopped16 down on the couch and turned on the TV.
“Sit down,” he said with the same silly grin17.
So I sat... and we stared at the TV... And then it happened. Don’t ask me how. I was too busy wondering how to act, but there he was leaning in to... yes to... kiss me.
My heart stopped. I swear it must have, because I lost feeling in my body and I couldn’t breathe. I must have looked somewhat awkward because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and my plan to act “cool” turned into my pretending I was a complete expert.
But I didn’t care; my dream was coming true. We were together at last... and forever... Life was pure perfection.
And then the kiss was over, ending as awkwardly as it began. We both returned to staring at the TV. I was eager to run home and tell my friends, so I kissed him good-bye and sprinted18 home.
The next day at school, I saw him in the halls.
“Hi, B. Jay,” I exclaimed.
He didn’t say a thing. He just walked by as if I didn’t even exist.
“B. Jay, B. Jay...” The louder I called his name, the faster he walked away.
I was completely horrified. What happened? I thought we were going to be together forever; I thought he loved me or at least liked me.
I went home sick that day.
It was many weeks before I could face him again. I would lie in my bed, listening to guitar solos19 that rose from his garage, and cry. I waited for some sort of explanation or apology. But I knew he would never come; it was time to move on20. And eventually I did. As the years passed, I have strengthened because of new heartaches and pain. I have learned neither to love nor to hate the boy next door, but, rather, to thank him for helping the little girl inside me to grow up.
我 是7岁时搬进那个地方的。尽管我当时只有7岁，长得瘦长又难看，却对邻家男孩一见钟情。
我们俩一块儿长大。他教我怎么爬树，怎样玩滑板，如何诅咒人。
几年下来，我为他写了数不清的情书放在他家门口。我记得自己等呀等呀，希望能等到他的答复，但不知何故，那些信仿佛都销声匿迹了，尽管我因为天真而并不特别在意。
接着有一天，我开始在意了。事情很奇怪，我还是个扎着马尾辫的小女孩，竟开始感受到季节的变迁，并用一个年轻女人的眼光看问题。突然之间，我变得敏感：他若对我视而不见，我就郁郁寡欢；他对我莞尔一笑，我就兴奋异常。我把他的名字写满了我的文件夹，并带着迷乱的眼神大声读出来。“B·杰伊，”我读道，“我爱B·杰伊。”
很不幸，我上七年级的时候，他就跟我渐行渐远了；最糟糕的是，他是成心的。我总是从走廊的对面朝他凝望，而他呢，目光跟我相遇时，就很快把脸转过去，装着压根儿就没看见我。我猜是我不够漂亮或者不够酷，不足以吸引他的注意。我真想不通：在那些曾经的日子里，我们俩一起逃离人们的视线，躲进我们一块儿用胶合板和旧床单搭成的树屋，一待就是几个小时，他怎能那么轻易就忘了呢！
接着有一天，放学后，我正在大声嚼着小吃，电话铃响了，是他打来的——B·杰伊。我大惑不解。几个月来，他一直都在躲避我。他为什么会突然给我打电话呢？
“你愿意……嗯……来我家吗？”他的声音叫人感到陌生。我却毫不犹豫就答应了。
“好的。当然，可以，一定，嗯，这就来。”我因为紧张而结结巴巴。
接着是忙音。
他没说再见就把电话挂了，我当时太激动，竟没注意。我快速却又装作漫不经心的样子朝他家前门走去，提醒自己表现一定要酷。
门开了，我走了进去。他家里弥漫着旧皮革和洗涤剂的气味，我的呼吸有些紧促。
“我父母不在家。”他笑着说。
我也笑了一下，完全不懂他是什么意思。
他一屁股坐在长沙发上，拧开电视机。
“坐下。”他带着跟刚才一样的傻笑说。
于是我就坐了下来……我们盯着电视看……接着事情就发生了。不要问我是怎样发生的。我正一个劲儿地琢磨，该怎样表现才算得体，但他已经把身体斜靠了过来……是的……他就这样吻了我。
我停止了心跳。我发誓我肯定停止了心跳，因为我的身体失去了感觉，而且我喘不过气来。我一定显得有些尴尬，因为我根本不知道自己在干什么，我原来装“酷”的打算转而变成了另一种“装”——我假装自己是个十足的情场专家。
但我对此并不在意；毕竟，我的梦想正在变成现实。我们俩终于在一起了……永远在一起……生活真是完美无缺。
接着我们的初吻宣告结束，结束的过程就像开始一样叫人尴尬。我们俩都坐回原来的样子，盯着电视看。我渴望跑回家，渴望把这件事告诉我的朋友们，于是我跟他吻别，以冲刺的速度朝家里跑。
第二天在学校里，我在走廊上看见了他。
“嗨，B·杰伊。”我大声叫道。
他一言不发。他径直从我身边走了过去，仿佛我根本就不存在似的。
“B·杰伊，B·杰伊……”我越大声喊他的名字，他逃离的步伐就越快。
我完全惊呆了。这到底是怎么回事呢？我以为我们会永远在一起的；我以为他是爱我的，或至少是喜欢我的。
那天我一回到家就病倒了。
好多个星期过去了，我都不敢再面对他。那些日子，我总是躺在床上，聆听着从他车库里飘出来的吉他独奏，终日以泪洗面。我期待着某种形式的解释或者道歉。但我知道，他是绝不会来找我的。是忘掉这事的时候了。就这样，我终于挺了过来。随着岁月的流逝，新伤旧痛让我变得坚强起来。对那位邻家男孩，我学会了既不爱也不恨，而是宁愿感谢他，感谢他帮我内心深处的那个小女孩一天天成熟长大。
1. gangly adj. 瘦长难看的
2. have eyes for欣赏；钟情于；对…感兴趣
3. cuss v. 诅咒，咒骂
4. naivete n. 天真；幼稚
5. pigtail n. 辫子
6. overly adv. 非常
7. scribble v. 乱涂，瞎写；潦草地写
8. lovesick adj. 害相思病的；因失恋而悲伤的
9. out of one’s league非某人能力所及；与某人不属同一类型
10. plywood n. 胶合板；压合板
11. munch v. 用力咀嚼；大声咀嚼
12. snack n. 小吃，快餐
13. out of the blue突然；出乎意料
14. stutter v. 结结巴巴地说；口吃着说
15. detergent n. 洗涤剂；洗洁精
16. plop v. 扑通地落下；扑通地坠落
17. grin n. 露齿笑，咧嘴笑
18. sprint v. 冲刺，用全速奔跑
19. solo n. 独唱曲；独奏曲
20. move on继续前进；转移到新事物上