Part 1: Jesse & Kris
All the boys and girls lined the gymnasium floor in two single file lines, boys on the left,
and the girls on the right, everyone facing their prom date. It was the day of his Snowflake
dance, the day Jesse had graduated from the fourth grade. The girl dancing in front of him,
which he had personally asked to the dance, her name; Jessica. She was radiant with shiny black
hair and she wore a puffy blue dress. She wasn’t the one catching Jesse’s eye that day though;
the boy beside him wore a brown sweater with green strips and black dress pants. He was the
one that shined like a brilliant diamond, this would be the way the ten-year old would have
described him if he’d been that articulate at his young age.
Everyone was still standing in front of each other getting ready to dance, waiting for the
music, eight o’clock sharp the principal had said. Jesse looked at the girl who was his sister, ‘his boy’ he referred to
him this way in his mind (like he’d picked him out as his own) was with. She was dressed in a
black mini-skirt and tights, with a black silk top.She had blonde hair down to her shoulders
with goldilocks curls. Jesse found himself very jealous of his sister for the first time in their short lives.
Not because of her clothes, not because of her hair, but because she was going to be
dancing with ‘his boy.’ This wasn’t the first crush Jesse had developed on a boy, the fastest yes,
but not the first. Other than that of a ten-year old love of their mother and father, Jesse felt the
same as any kid with a crush, feeling as much admiration, butterflies, and adoration towards this
boy as a he could at his young age. his fantazined the entire dance that he was his sister and on the slow songs he had his arms (his sister's
arms) wrapped around Kris.
Little did they know that this crush would blossom into so much? Once they began speaking and
spending time together a whole other world would open for these boys. But the road they choose
to spend more time together may be rockier than they expected.
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