Tales of failed and fractured romances (and other strange encounters with the male species)

Author notes: These stories are all true and personally happened to me. Memories of exact dialogue may be slightly off, but I assure you, these are all sadly true. I have however changed all names, including my own. Bella is a nickname of mine though.

Boomer

He was tall and big for a boy his age, broad-shouldered, with bright red hair, freckles, and a shy smile. He was always nice to me, sitting beside me in the classroom, talking to me without the oafish aggression and swagger of most young males aiming to impress a female peer. I wasn't very interested in dating, but I liked him, and I knew he liked me too.

We were five years old, but that wasn't the real issue.

"Boomer!" Cade nearly screamed with laughter, his eyes bugging in hilarity. "His name is BOOMER?"

Cade was my brother. At twelve, he more than I apparently understood the importance of a name that could be taken seriously in a dating partner.

"Bella and Boomer! Bella and Boomer! Bella likes Boomer!" he chanted in glee, and my voice rose up shrilly as I tried to reach up into the front seat to hit him- all slaps he easily evaded.

"Stop it! Stop it, I do not! Mom! Mom, he's making fun of me!" I shrieked, but Cade was undaunted.

"Bella's got a boyfriend! Bella and Boomer, sitting in a tree!"

"MOM!"

"Cade, stop making fun of your sister," our mother admonished, before looking back at me in the rearview mirror, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Bella, what does Boomer look like?"

If my family was to be trusted, there were obviously some guidelines needed for this business of liking boys. But how was I to know that a redheaded boy named Boomer wouldn't meet the criteria?