"So, you have a lot of female friends, right? You know, most guys would actually be jealous of you," Alex says while we are still walking on our journey to meet Clara. "Did you actually ever have a crush on any of them back in grade school?" Alex asks.
"I’m not sure. Before I even knew what physical attraction was, it felt like I could just like anyone by admiring their personality alone," I tell him. "With girls, I admired how they talked, how confident they were, how they were much smarter than me, and obviously the way they dressed and how they did their hair too, of course. They were way more fascinating than the boys, who were just plain boring and gross."
I stop for a second, thinking back to those naive days. "If life were as simple as a fairytale movie, I could imagine staying best friends with Clara until we grew up, then getting married and living in a house of our own. I'd work in an office, she'd cook, and soon after, a stork would deliver a baby to us, and we'd live happily ever after. Perhaps almost all kids my age thought the exact same way back then."
"But what I didn't get, though..." I continue, "I heard that some kids in my class were already 'dating,' even though teachers and parents always warned us not to do it yet. Why couldn't they just wait until they were older? What’s up with the rush? What's so fun about dating, anyway?" I ask, as I really have no clue at all.
***
In the fifth grade, I remember one afternoon walking home from school with Clara. We share the same route, so we spend the whole way joking around and laughing. As we reach the end of our shared road, we run out of words to say and stop. We’re just standing there for a moment, facing each other, staring and smiling.
I start to wonder, Is this what they call love? Do I feel like holding her hand? I don’t think so. Do I want to kiss her like in those famous cartoon movies? No way. Of course, even if I want to, I’m not going to do it. I’m just checking my feelings. Do I want to hang out like this every single day? Hmm, I think it would wear out at some point, right? I think to myself. Clara and I can’t hold our smiles anymore; we then laugh at the awkwardness, wondering what that was all about.
"Okay, I'm heading over now. Bye," I say, as my house is still further away on the other side of the road.
"Okay, bye! Take care!" Clara says, waving. We split up and head toward our own houses.
On the way home, I'm still thinking: Besides... if I were really in love with her, I would imagine it’s going to be fun to go on dates anywhere, just the two of us, right? But I don’t think it's the way I feel deep down in my heart.
***
"So, if that happened with one of your handsome male friends instead of Clara, would you like to kiss him?" Alex asks, breaking my train of thought.
"Not really, at least not at that age," I answer, blushing. "But I definitely could feel something different—something I never experienced when I was with my female friends."
I remember having a group of male classmates; we usually hang out together at one of my friends' houses during the school breaks. Actually, my friends usually plan everything together, and I just follow them around. We play video games, do homework, or maybe just go cycling around to buy some school supplies. But there are times when everyone else has to cancel after I have already arrived, so it is only me and the friend who owns the house left to hang out.
When I am with a crowd, I don't feel anything special toward my friends. But when it is just the two of us—like when my friend teaches me how to play video games because I am so bad at them, or when he lets me ride on the back of his bike—I always wish those moments would last forever. It feels like having the big brother I never had; a kind one, not a bully. I hope he didn't regret ever hanging out with me, because I know I am so lame and needy.
Sometimes when I hang out at one of my friends’ houses, I meet their fathers too. Most of them look so much younger than my dad, and their bodies are still in shape. When they’re at home, usually they are just wearing a singlet, doing their chores, while I just say hi and pass by. Suddenly, that same sharp pain in my chest I felt back in kindergarten returns. Yet, a lot of times I’m still curious; I just want to step back and peek at them again. But of course, that’s going to be weird, so there’s nothing I can do except wait for another chance to pass by them again. Back then, I still don't realize what’s actually happening to me.
On the other hand, when I see my own father at home, I feel nothing. Perhaps of all the men I know, including myself, my father is the only one that I am never interested in. Which is actually good, and I do want to feel just like this whenever I see other men around. But I still don’t know what the secret recipe is yet. Is it because he’s simply ugly to me, or is it because I already know his bad side all my life? When I try to apply this mindset to other men, it just never works.
***
By the end of my fifth grade, outside of school, I gather my courage to learn the Quran at the mosque near my house. I want to learn more about Islam while also trying to practice my social skills. Who knows, maybe I’m finally going to mingle with boys better here at this new place.
Turns out, I’m too late to join the basic level for my age. My friends there are mostly little kids. Fortunately, there are a few kids my age too, but they’re all girls and only two boys who are younger than me. To be honest, I'm a little bit disappointed because I expect to meet more boys my age that I can be friends with. Well, it’s actually my fault for waiting too long to gather my courage to do this. My timing is always bad.
But then I meet Zac, one of the two young boys there. He’s actually rude and mean, like the usual average boys I’ve met. But his looks really remind me of my favorite uncle from out of town, which is so… I don’t know, I always fall for this type of person anyway. I know I said it’s hard for me to remember faces before, but when you know, you just know what you like. And I still can’t describe it properly, though. He smiles a lot, his ears are big like mine, his face is long, not round like mine, and his hair is in a prince charming style. I can't even get mad when he teases me because I’m weirder than other boys he knows.
What surprises me is, it turns out, he is way more mature than me. He’s good with little kids and has already memorized a lot more verses and duas than I have. It’s often he’s the one who teaches me to memorize my duas while playing with his mini toy cars with the other kids. I don't know why he still stays at this level with me, but it turns out sometimes he also joins the advanced level at night with the bigger kids—which I can’t do because my mind is already overloaded with homework from school.
Ever since then, every time I come, he’s the only one I’m always looking for. Even though he ends up teasing me and being mean anyway, I can’t even remember why I joined this class in the first place anymore.
So, not long after that, right after the Eid al-Adha holiday, my teacher asks me in class, "Billy, did you get your share of the meat from the mosque yesterday?"
"No, I didn't," I answer honestly, since I haven't personally received anything that day.
Suddenly, Zac, who is also sitting in front of me playing around with the other kids, cuts me off with an angry look, saying, "Yes, you did! I delivered it to your house myself with my friend too. Your father was the one who received it."
Hearing that from Zac himself, I feel completely ashamed of myself. Zac must think I'm greedy, trying to get an extra portion. I feel so foolish for not checking with my parents first. Meanwhile, Zac has every right to be mad; he probably doesn't want anyone to misunderstand and think he hasn't done his job right. The worst thing is I can only sit there frozen and say “Oh” to both of them.
I am so embarrassed. The angry look Zac gave me that day gives me enough reason to never return to that mosque again. I know he probably doesn't think much of such a small thing, but I am so disappointed in myself for almost causing him trouble. I don’t think I can face him anymore. We never meet again after that day, though a part of me still wants to. One day, I even dream he kisses me on the cheek, and I wake up feeling so happy.
That is the first time I ever feel so nervous and jumpy dealing with someone. Perhaps Zac is the first love that I never realized I had.
Updated 06/14/2026
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