Most people who have been through public school say that while high school was the best time of their lives, middle school was the worst. I agree. Completely.
Her name was Rachel (it wasn’t really). She had red hair that she never combed. She smelled bad. She was overweight. And anyone who showed her the least amount of kindness immediately became her new best friend, like it or not.
She was the Middle School Lesbian.
I’m not sure if she even was a lesbian, but everybody said she was. And that was enough.
I was the new kid in town. Seventh grade was my first time in any kind of organized school, and I was having trouble making friends. Rachel revolted me—I’m ashamed to say it like that—but she was the only one who would talk to me, so I talked to her. And people took notice. They called me a pig and a whore. They asked me if I actually liked it, or if I was just in it for the money. Half the time I didn’t even understand what they were talking about. It was as if they were speaking a foreign language.
I’d never been put in a situation where just being nice to someone could have those kinds of consequences. And so, in a spirit of self-preservation I’m ashamed to admit to, I pushed Rachel away. I started sitting with other people at lunch, even though they didn’t talk to me. I switched seats in classes so that we’d be as far away from each other as possible. I was never mean to her; I just pretended she didn’t exist. If she tried to talk to me, I acted as distant as possible.
She got the message. I got the feeling that she was resigned to it, had even been expecting it. She went back to sitting by herself at lunch, and I did my best not to feel terrible for not telling an adult what was happening. Because Rachel had told me things I thought someone should know. She had told me she’d been raped as a child, and that her father was an alcoholic and beat her when he was drunk. The problem was, she had sworn me to secrecy, and I didn’t even know if she was telling the truth.
The only thing I thought seemed corroborate her story was a picture she showed me. She was perhaps in kindergarten. Her hair was beautiful, silky auburn. She was smiling irrepressibly. She had dimples. She was a sweet, happy child. How could that have just changed?
I never saw Rachel again after eighth grade. I don’t know what happened to her, and neither does anyone else. I hope wherever she is, she’s happier. And I hope she doesn’t blame me for what I did to her. Remembering the kind of person she was, I don’t think she does. I think she knows I could never do something like that again. I hope I won’t.
Wherever you are, I'm sorry
By quotation - Posted on September 28th, 2007
Tagged: friendship
• Peer pressure
• relationships
• school
• shared responsibilty
• Shared responsibility
I hope she is happier too. She must have really trusted you to confide like that in you. It's too bad that she had such a difficult childhood and was then treated so poorly in middle school. It's also sad to hear that she appeared to be such a happy child, and that was erased. Hopefully wherever she went, she was able to make friends and feel included. I'm sure she doesn't blame you for anything. She was probably thankful to be able to share her pain with someone even for a little while.
Thank you.
It is really sad, and I'm terribly ashamed of the way I acted toward her. She was probably a better person than the people I hung around with later.
CEM
I don't think by saying what a horrible jerk you were will do any good. lol I probably did it to someone unconsciously too. At least you realized it and never going to do it again, so that's a good sign. Through high school and middle school, I've always wished to have at least one best friend. But it never happened because even when I considered them as my best friend, they wouldn't considered me as one. Just as friends. Now, I'm trying to find that one true friend who will stick through thick and thin with me during my college years. Oh by the way, who's Stephanie? Did you just slip her name out?
I started out writing it using her name as Stephanie, then realized that I know a couple of Stephanies who might read this, and when I pick false names I try not to pick names of people I know... I don't think I know any Rachels. I hope I don't.
Too bad you don't have a best friend--I have one now, but didn't for many years. I always had my family, tho. They're great. I've found, however, that when you go looking for friends you find the wrong kind. Best friends just sort of drop into your lap. I might never have met mine if she hadn't moved to the US from Europe.
CEM
I was the mama bird and took the dorks under my wings, but I was a cool girl so it was cool. Everyone knew better than to push up on me, I think it is sad no one stood up for her. Sometimes, you save someone's life with a smile. Sad story,and it is in my blog 'Random Acts of Kindness'...or whatever I called it.
As I watched the exchange, I saw her smirk dash the glint in his green eyes and he stared at the ground. I kept thinking, he is done, done with life and the way it treats him. She was prepared to take my order but not before barking at him, "Sir, move over," his ears had failed him and he moved closer to ask what she needed. She laughed at him and condescendingly said, "Move over so I can take their order, they are hungry."
Well, last I checked I wasn't starving so I finally spoke, "I can order from here just fine," and I did. When his order was ready- they pushed the tray towards him with not a word. I picked it up and handed it to him with a smile, looking him straight in his weathered deep green eyes. He had a sad smile, the type that comes from years of hidden hurts.
After I had taken my seat, I decided to get him a gift certificate...I only had the $5 on me, but it's the little things, remember? I set it down next to him, and he didn't even look at it, his tear-filled eyes were on me. He told me, "I was done (putting his hand to his head and mimicing pulling a trigger), but you're an angel!" I grew misty-eyed at his honesty...and pointed at the gift card that I had written 'God Bless You!!' on, "This is for you, I wanted to buy your next meal". He didn't care about that, I had seen him. SEEN him, not looked thru him and it had saved him.
Sometimes you save people by being kind and not conforming ot the way other's treat them. Many people together do not make better decisions...think KKK, or gangs...I know you have learned, but remember.
That's terrible. Middle school is quite possible one of the worst years anyone can go through. In Elementary school, we are all copying what we see around us and trying to find what fits right in our little brains. By Middle School, we have either copied what is right or wrong, and are trying to grow into it, expand it, or are still seeking acceptance in our puzzle-piece world. High school can be hard, because we usually know what we like and want, but are afraid to do/be it.
I feel terrible for "Rachel," and I feel terrible for you to have to live with this in your memories for all these years. No one should ever have to go through what Rachel experienced, and you should have never been pressured to do what you did.
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