Flipped (from the percipient of heroine )

When I was seven years old, a new family moved into the neighborhood. That day I was sitting on my doorstep when his gaze met mine through the car window, and in that instant, my heart skipped a beat，I flipped. After the car stopped, I ran over to help them unload their luggage. He was so shy that he immediately dashed to his mother, but I caught up with him. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I felt myself drowning in those eyes. My heart pounded wildly - "Will I give him my first kiss?" Just then, his mother came out to greet me.
That night , I lay in bed thinking that almost-kiss. I just knew he liked me - he was just too shy. For years after, we stayed in the same class. Determined to help him overcome his shyness, I took actions to greet him and hug him. Our routine continued until fifth grade, when he started hanging around with this annoying girl. I even saw them holding hands! Though furious, I trusted he'd eventually see through her. As I know, a they had a falling out after a week.
After that incident, he seemed less shy. His desk was moved in front of mine and he began greeting me every morning with a cheerful "Hi, Juli." I lived for those moments. Then one day I noticed his hair carried the fresh scent of watermelon. Throughout sixth grade, I just couldn’t hold back myself leaning closer to catch that fragrance.
One afternoon in seventh grade while watching my father paint in the yard, he suddenly asked about our relationship. " Nothing special," I said. "Maybe it's his eyes... or his smile." My father smiled, "But what about him?" he continued: "A painting isn't just the sum of its parts. A cow is just a cow, grass merely grass and flowers, sunlight through trees simply light. But combined, magic happens."
I don’t know what’s his meaning until the day I climbed up to the sycamore tree. I drank in the sweet air mingling sunlight with wildgrass and earth. From then on, I became a regular visitor to that tree, witnessing nature's daily miracles. One day, I finally understood what my father meant about the whole being greater than the sum of its parts.
One morning while watching sunrise, some noise came from below. The owners wanted to cut down my tree. Despite my desperate pleas, they wouldn't stop. I called to him waiting at the school bus stop, begging him to join my protest in the branches. He turned away.
As crowds gathered below, my father finally came to retrieve me. I must come down. For weeks afterward, I rode my bike to school to avoid seeing the stump.
I was so hurt that I decided to avoid him. To distract myself, I focused on taking care of the chicks I’d hatched at the science fair. When they started laying eggs, they laid more than my family could eat, so I sold some to neighbors. I thought I should give some to his family too, to thank his mom for her kindness. So every morning, I’d deliver eggs to their door, and he’d come out to meet me.
One day, he said the bus stop was cleaned up and I should come back. But later, I saw him throwing my eggs in the trash. “Have you been doing this every day?” I yelled. He said they were worried about our messy yard and germs. I ran home crying, deciding never to speak to him again.
I started fixing our yard with grass seeds and tools. Surprisingly, his grandpa came to help. And he seemed didn’t know about the eggs. He taught me a lot. One day , he came over to my yard and complimented my yard later, I quietly said, “Thanks,” may be feeling less angry.
After that day, at school, a girl told me he kept looking at me. She dragged me to the library, but we overheard him laughing when his friends made fun of my uncle. I ran away, heartbroken.
At the school charity auction, I bid to have lunch with another boy while he sat with my enemy. During lunch, he suddenly rushed over, pulled me up, and tried to kiss me. I didn’t know why he did so, and I pushed him away and rushed home.
He kept calling, but I ignored him. Then one day, I found him planting a sycamore tree in my yard. I went out to help. As we dug and talked, I realized we’d never truly understood each other before. That afternoon, under the dirt and sunlight, everything finally made sense.