His name was Norman. Norman Timmons. He was quirky, weird and cute. He had black curly hair and glow in the dark tennis shoes. He sat behind me in my 5th grade class. He was always laughing, falling out of his chair and getting in trouble. I like trouble. I always have. It was after school. It was a dare. I kissed him and then I ran. I ran as fast as I could, all the way home. And I remember my heart. My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t breathe.