"but the thing is,

when you tell a little girl who has rocks in her teeth and scabs on her knees that hurt and attention are the same

you teach her that boys show their affection through aggression"

-

She sat in class for the next three hours, twiddling her thumbs instead of learning how to add doubles.

The answer she had gotten to solve her problems was not written on the white board or in a workbook or appeared on the screen of a calculator. It was on the tip of her teacher's tongue, imprinted in her brain, and on her bandaged knees from the gravel that had ripped her delicate skin.

Iris sat in class for the next three months, learning the boy's name who wasn't in her class. It was Calum, and by the number of dull red scrapes lining up and down her four foot body, Calum liked her a lot. And Iris started to like Calum.

When her strawberry blonde hair was pulled and boney shoulders were shoved, it only meant that it was his way of showing his likeness towards her. His affection was shown through aggression. Iris believed that was okay, because boys will be boys after all.

The teasing continued as well as her first crush. She didn't even have a crush on her blonde friend, not even after they spent the entire summer camping out on her trampoline and running through her sprinklers.

It's now three years later, and Iris doesn't have a crush on this new fourth grade Calum. Fourth grade Calum is taller and smarter. He doesn't push the girls he likes anymore. He doesn't grip their arms or throw paper balls at them, he simply watches and blushes. She wonders why he doesn't show his love to her anymore.

Iris spends the rest of the school year looking out the window of the door to peer into Luke's classroom next to hers. He would smile and wave and then quickly go back to his lesson. All she could do was smile and wave back and lose focus in her lesson.

She's now in fifth grade, sitting with her friends who were talking about how great the boys would be in middle school. Her friend Sarah claims she's already kissed a boy in that is in the sixth grade, but she told her that on the cheek doesn't count. Iris's comment was simply ignored. She sighed deeply, wishing that she could receive that type of attention from a boy.

Even if it meant being pushed off of the swing just like she was four years ago.