Sonja

After being tested as a boy with a very high IQ I when I was 11 years old, I was destined to go to university. The secondary school I had to go after primary school was not one where people of the working class normally would send their children. It was in a posh area of the nearby city and I needed a bicycle to get there from our village.

I did great the first year, scored really high marks and was a very dedicated student. It was always a struggle to find a quiet place in our crowded house, but I managed to do my homework every day. It did bother me a bit that I was such a small boy compared to my classmates. The older students looked like giants to me. That changed in the second year, suddenly I grew like a beanstalk becoming skinnier and skinnier. My clothes were all a bit unfitting, the legs of my trousers too short just like the sleeves of my shirts.

My view of my fellow students changed a lot too, I had only eyes for one girl: Sonja.
She would sit two desks away in front me. I would stare at the back of her head all day, admiring her blond shoulder length hair. At home I could see it, while dreaming away, instead of doing my homework.

One day a teacher asked me something. I didn't have a clue what he was talking about and started stammering. The girl of my dreams had turned around and I could see she was miming something. It took a while but then I realised she was actually giving me the answer. I understood her message, gave the answer and the teacher was satisfied. He did add that he would be pleased if I would try not to sleep during the lessons. I only blushed, not being able to say anything.

During the next break I wanted to thank her. She was together with the big girl with the funny glasses. I waited till that girl would get away, did not dare to go to her. I just stood there and watched. The big girl went to the toilet and Sonja was on her own. I wanted to go to her, but remained where I was, sort of paralized. I made a decision: I would speak with Sonja at the big school party at the end of the week.

During lunch break I went to a nearby park and sat at a bench with my sandwiches and self hate. A few old ladies walked over and looked at me. I was very aware that they would think that I was a weird boy and felt ashamed. I got up, the old ladies sat down on the bench and I walked towards another one. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Again I decided: Friday night would be my finest hour, I would talk to Sonja. Maybe we could become friends?

Friday evening I cycled to school, much to the surprise of my parents. "You? To a party?" I had mumbled as a reaction and just went. There would be a famous dixieland band playing.
The party people were mostly the older students. I felt out of place with my short legged trousers being not elegant like theirs; it seemed to be fashion to wear blazers and not a stupid coat like mine.
I was as tall as most of them, but I was very aware how skinny I was. Some of the boys were quite muscular. The girls were wearing colourful dresses, they all looked so mature. Yet none was as nice as Sonja. But she obviously was not there.

Yet a couple of the boys asked me if I liked to come along. They had a stash of beer hidden. This was only meant for the oldest students and the teachers, but they said they had nicked some.
I drank three bottles of beer and felt a bit more at ease, talked more in an hour than in the last year.
Not being used to drinking I started to feel ill and I told my new friends I had to go home.
I found my bicycle and hurried away from school, had to stop after a few mile because I had to vomit. I felt very sorry for myself and very stupid: of course Sonja was not at that party. I cried for miles on my bicycle.

The torture of my being so shy went on for the rest of the year. I failed horribly and had to change schools. Never saw Sonja again.

Years later I became a member of a website "Old Classmates". I found an old picture of the old class, saw my skinny old self standing at the back of the group. In the foreground sat my first idol: Sonja.
I even got in contact with her and we chatted for some time. She told me that she had been a very unhappy teenager, certain that she was very ugly and unattractive. None of the boys would ever speak to her and most of the girls were treating her bad. I told her of my secret love for her and she admitted that she had always hoped I would come to talk to her. She was too shy to get to me, never dared.
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