The scent of lavender filled the air, bringing with it the nostalgic memory of Rachel, my very first crush. She had the longest, golden, wavy hair that dropped down to her butt, and thick, long, dark lashes. I closed my eyes as the scent grew stronger. She was nearby.
I opened them and searched for her. There she was, under the oak tree, where she usually sat with the other foreign exchange students from Europe. She and her friend, Isabella, were from France and had met here. They stuck together like glue, but Rachel had made it clear when I’d presumed on their relationship, that they weren’t best friends, because she still had her best friend back at home.
I looked about, wondering where I was. I was nowhere in sight, so I wondered what this scene could have been about. Still, I continued to watch her as she spoke fluent French with her friend. Beautiful. Perfection. Why didn’t we ever get together, I wondered?
Then I saw him, Marcus. He was the only black guy in our school. And he wasn’t a foreign exchange student. Apparently, he was born and raised in the States, though his parents were originally from Ghana…
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