The Gift

He stood alone in the playground, watching the girl with the long, brown hair and brown eyes, chatting to her friends, clearly oblivious to him.

Some of her friends noticed the lanky, bespectacled black-haired boy looking at her and made one or two sniggering remarks, but she paid no attention. Sometimes she was alone in the playground, but he still could not bring himself to speak to her.

One afternoon, he saw her walking home alone. That was the perfect moment. She was walking confidently, unaware of his presence. He decided to let her walk a few steps ahead before following her, as he did not want to frighten her. He walked slowly, his footsteps silent. He saw her turn around a corner and followed her. She walked on for another quarter of an hour or so, then approached a detached house and rang the doorbell. A plump, brown-haired woman opened the door and the girl went in. The door slammed behind her. He had failed again.

One lunch break, he overheard her telling her friends that she would be inviting her friends for her sixteenth birthday party that Sunday afternoon. Of course, she did not notice the poor lovelorn boy, looking desperately at her.

An idea flashed through his mind: she did not invite him, so he could not come, but he could buy her a small bunch of carnations, leave a note saying that it was a gift from him for her birthday.

He chose the finest bunch that he could buy. He hid them from his parents and from his younger brother, with whom he shared a room. When her birthday finally arrived, he wrapped the flowers in paper, wrote a note with his name and said that he wished her all the best for her birthday.

Then he ran off, fast as lightning.