Not drinking the last of the milk in my cereal bowl.
Not picking up litter I saw in the street.
Hitting my little sister with a Harry Potter book when I was mad at her.
Seeing pictures of starving Ugandan kids and not knowing how to help.
When me and boy in my class teased each other that we alone were going to win the Harry Potter poster in the contest, and then when I won it I cheered myself because the whole class was silent and I wanted to make all that teasing worth something, but nobody cheered with me and the teacher told me to stop and everything was silent when I went up to get my poster.
Picking grass nervously while I waited for my mother at the end of day camp.
Another time with a different boy when we always pretended to fistfight during recess and then once totally by accident my fingernail cut his shoulder and I told him I meant to do it because we were mad at each other and I was afraid of sounding weak in front of a boy, and then the teacher was livid with me and no one would believe I really hadn’t meant it at all.
Picking legs off a daddy long-leg.
Not killing bees and making someone else do it.
Whispering to my sister that the girl scouts weren’t my friends when some of them were listening.
Loving the school pizza when no one else did.
Telling my best friend at gymnastics camp that I would see him tomorrow, and then we had to go to Acton for a week because of a funeral.
In middle school, with a different boy, when he asked for a dollar with the promise to pay it back and then after I gave it to him he laughed at me and said he wouldn’t pay it back so I stole—literally stole and took to my house—his favorite hat, again because I was afraid of boys thinking I was weak and then when I asked for the dollar everyone pretty much hated me and the dollar felt disgusting when he gave it to me, and even the troublemaking kids took me aside and said I could really get into trouble for stealing, and I was so upset because I was supposed to be one of the good kids, and I’d never stolen anything else! It’s just so hard to figure out what you’re supposed to do in Middle School. I apologized later to this guy in a letter. We didn’t exactly sit down and have a heart-to-heart, but he did start telling jokes to me again, and I was so grateful.
Scratching my teacher’s knee instead of my own itchy one while we were having a conference. She saw it as endearing.
Once when I brought my hairbrush to school because I didn’t have time at home, and then the brush got stuck in my hair while our classes were in lines outside, and this kid who was mean to me hissed, “What did you do to your hair?”
Unceasingly teasing this other boy who I actually kind of respected because that was the only way I knew how to talk to him, and even though he tried to make jokes with me and ignore it, I annoyed him so much he ended up hating me.
(Hmm…the more I write this, the clearer it becomes why I didn’t have so many friends…)
And then there was another boy in Middle School who I really, really, genuinely kind of liked (except there was this other girl who he would have been so much better with, and this guy and I, we really couldn’t manage to string together a conversation like he and that other girl could) but damnit the same thing happened and even though he was nice to me sometimes he laughed at me and it made me mad and when he tried to hold my hand while we were skating, I thought he was trying to trip me like he did earlier so I ripped it away. Then, two seconds later I was like “AW FREAKIN—was he just—? AUGH! Totally missed that!” What an idiot I was. He did that kind of thing all the time—offered to help me up when I fell, offered to help me put books away. What was wrong with me? Once I swore at him. Really, really badly. I still don’t know why. I think I thought he’d said something about me, but he really didn’t. I felt so guilty. I wanted to cry. It made him so upset. I kind of whispered it, so I really didn’t expect him to hear it, but he did. The first time I used the F word aloud—why did I use it for someone so nice? I remember that was a really bad day. Valentine’s Day. Middle School. A.k.a. hell. There was a rumor or two going around about me, I think. Maybe I thought he was involved, or I was just taking my feelings out on him. That’s the one thing I wish I could take back, out of all the things on this list. I’m even okay with scratching that guy’s shoulder or stealing that guy’s hat, but I really, really wish I had bit my stupid tongue in front of this person that day. It’s been seven years, and sometimes I still lie awake and think about the things in this particular paragraph. I did admit I liked him on the last day of school. And later at the graduation ceremony, he was smiling and joking with me like always. Thank goodness for pure hearts. But I never officially apologized to him. I’ve been trying to talk to him on Facebook lately, but…I really wish I could see him in person. Which makes it kind of stupid that I’ve missed a few of the most recent yearly reunions at our school. Well, maybe I can go this year. Or maybe I’ll just suck it up one day and apologize on a Facebook message instead of messing around, trying to get into an active conversation first. But we were never good at active conversations. It never would have worked—we just couldn’t talk. Not as well as he could talk with that other girl. They were really, really friends. Maybe that’s what I wish even more—I wish THEY would start talking again. Geez. And you know what’s kind of funny? This girl is one of my best friends now. I talk to her more than any other long-distance friend. We visit each other all the time, driving all the way up, or all the way down.
All right, fine. So I didn’t drink the milk. Didn’t pick up some litter. That Harry Potter book will always have a dent in it. I still have to check Helping Ugandan Kids off my list. Won a poster. Picked some grass. Hurt a shoulder by accident. Picked some legs, killed some spiders, ran from bees. Made people feel bad. Ate some pizza. Told a truth that didn’t come true, stole a hat, scratched a knee. Mangled my hair. Teased a few boys.
And now, I’m about to interrupt a blog post in favor of Facebook. Figures, don't it?
