“Whattca got there?” He would ask, looking over my shoulder, trying to grab my book. “What ya’ reading? Anything good?” And I would smile and pretend I didn’t want to show him. I always wondered why I got that feeling from him. The feeling of butterflies and my heart dropping to my stomach. Everyone told me I should only feel that way about her, but it didn’t matter, she could ask the same questions and I didn’t care. It was him I wanted to talk to. But all he wanted to do is take my book and call me “fag.”
Rebekah J. Buchanan is a Philly girl transplanted into fields of corn. In addition to spending time looking at corn and writing, she teaches English Education and Writing Studies at Western Illinois University.