For our sixth grade, end-of-year field trip, we went to Raging Waters, something I think most of us were excited about. Summer was right around the corner, it was hot, and for people like me who had never been to Raging Waters, it would be an especially special treat. Sixth grade was when half of the guys were still in the girls-have-cooties-get-away-from-me stage and the other half were in the maybe-girls-aren’t-so-bad-after-all-actually-they’re-pretty-hot stage. I was in the latter half.
There was this girl, Laura, who I had liked all year, but never really talked to before. No one knew I liked her, I never looked at her for long. Most my friends thought I liked this other girl, Judy who was Asian. I guess they expected me to like Asian girls only, as they did, and never thought I could like someone like Laura who was white. Secretly, I felt proud that I liked someone who wasn’t Asian. I felt different, unique, original – qualities that would ground everything I did from then on.
Well, I was hoping during the Raging Waters trip, I would get to catch of glimpse of Laura in her swim suit. I joined a group of friends, all guys, to explore the park, but was always on the lookout for Laura. I saw her eventually with her group of friends, all girls, at the Splash Pool. She wasn’t wearing a two-piece like I had hoped, but oddly, seeing her in a one-piece was still indescribably satisfying.
As I went from waterslide to waterslide, I noticed the way each slide was built and found myself painfully disappointed, but also strangely fascinated by the rides that were under construction at the time. They were like the roller coasters of amusement parks with water.
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