November 21, 2002 | 10:48 PM

Having been dumped by Trevor and deserted by Joshua, the beginning of first grade wasn�t looking so hot.

There was nobody to blow kisses at during story time. Fuck, there wasn�t even story time anymore. There was USSR (Uninterrupted Sustained Silent Reading Time�what a bunch a� commies) during which you had to sit quietly at your desk and read Dick and Jane books, or in my case Maurice Sendak.

The kid that sat next to me always read with his lips moving. Which would have bothered me if his lips weren�t so lovely.

His name was Tommy Addaire. He was new to the school system and he was albino and had a large head of silky white hair.

Tommy resembled an alien and his clothes were always too big. But he commanded respect as being the only kid in the class who knew how to multiply.

Once again, I was in love. Unrequited love. A new experience in my young life.

Unlike Joshua and Trevor, Tommy didn�t give a flying fig that I knew every line of Star Wars. He was Mormon and I don�t even think his parents let him watch it.

(Have you ever noticed that religious nuts always restrict their children from watching the most benign movies? No Timmy, you can�t watch The Last Unicorn because unicorns are satanic. They have horns just like lucifer, and if you watch things like that you�ll wind up in hell with the rest of the little boys and girls that don�t sit in church for eight hours on Sunday.)

I did everything I could to get Tommy Addaire�s attention. I brought him packets of sweet tarts and offered to tie his shoes for him (something at which he was none to adept.) Each attempt at winning his heart ended with a brush off.

The situation was dire. Drastic measures were needed.

I rounded up the little girl gang of friends I�d collected�Whitni, Emily, and Rachel and declared outright war on Tommy Addaire every day at recess.

The moment we�d get out to the playground, I�d drop my Strawberry Shortcake backpack and let out a battle cry.

Tooooommmmmmmyyyy Addddddaaaaaaaaire. You better run �cause I�m gonna kiiiiiiiiiiisssssss you.

Tommy�s already nuclear pale skin blanches even whiter, and he took off like a shot, stumbling along in his untied Keds as me, Emily, Whitni, and Rachel took off after him.

Round and round the yard we�d go. Tearing through games of four square and disrupting the remedial children�s wonderball match. I pursued Tommy like that flying dog thingie that chases the bullies in The Never Ending Story, whooping and screaming all the way.

Sometimes I�d get close enough behind him to grab on to his jacket, but he always eluded me eventually. He was always just out of reach. This went on for months and months. Finally, I conceded defeat. I was never ever going to catch Tommy Addaire.

Whitni, Emily, Rachel, and I gave up the kissing game and found a new passion in creating dioramas out of blades of grass, barbie doll heads, and transformer action figures scotched taped in lewd positions inside discarded shoe boxes. (Oh what I wouldn�t give to still have one of those today.)

At first, Tommy seemed relieved that he was no longer the object of our stalking. But once he realized we really and truly had lost interest, he became perturbed.

One afternoon, Tommy approached the four of as we sat on the blacktop mutilating our dolls and covering them with flora.

Hey, do any of you guys wanna try and kiss me?

We exchanged glances.

I tossed my pigtails and surveyed the formerly beloved Mr. Addaire with scorn.

No not really.

His shoulders slumped and he walked away dejected.

From then on, I found love notes scrawled in crayon inside my desk as well as the occasional half eaten bag of M&M�s.

I ceremoniously ripped up the notes and threw the candy in the trash. I was not going to be sweet talked into forgetting months and months of rejection. I was going to teach Mr. Albino-thinks-he�s-so-fucking-great-�cause-he-can-multiply a thing or two about a thing or two.

The end of the year came and Tommy�s family moved away to Utah. Who knows what became of him. He was never heard from again.