Woodrow Wilkins

I don't go with you

I was 15 and in the ninth grade. I was awkward with girls. A little shy but mostly clueless. I had a crush on this girl, an eight-grader named Melody. We were choral students. When we practiced after school, our director worked with different ensembles. And so sometimes when I didn’t have to be on stage, Melody and I and a couple other friends goofed off a lot, running around the auditorium, playing some sort of variation of tag. She was gorgeous and friendly. So I started liking her for a girlfriend, but had no idea what to do. Well, one day, during study hall, I passed a note, asking if she would meet me at a park later. Our homes were about a half mile apart, and the park was a public place between them.