27

1987

spring



It mattered, I guess, where I was going. I had so much trouble keeping at attention in class that I was moved to remedial class. This was a place where students went when they just couldn't keep up with the rest of the class. Of course, this further drove me inward. The kids would laugh at me and call me stupid. Sometimes they said I was supposed to be in special ed. I would have dropped out of the remedial classes if my dad hadn't threatened to beat me silly if I didn't go. I was disliked so much that even the other students in the remedial class would make fun of me. I would just sit and turn inward on myself during class. In my mind, my imagination rushed and created busy images of places much better than reality. I would get so lost in this world that I had created that I rarely heard the teacher when she called to me. I skated by in remedial by getting Cs on most things. Eventually, I was allowed to return to regular classes. Everyone stared at me with disgust...everyone, that is, except for the skinny little girl with glasses that sat in the corner of the room and read all the time. I watched her twirl her hair around her finger from day to day and wondered could I harass her enough to bring her down lower than my level. I just wanted someone else to be the center of the negative attention. And so I planned to bring attention to her for the next couple of weeks. I wanted a stepping stone...I could feel the fires of hell, I could feel the grip of death...I could feel something else too. Something new had taken hold of me, a new emotion. I could feel a careless abandon, much like a numbing.

I was to soon make aquantance with a deeper hatred.



1987



I tried to draw attention to her but I only drew more attention to myself. The popular kids would tease her and then finally give up. She, apparently cared less about what they thought about her. I watched her and grew angry with her. I hated her power to silence their taunting. I hated her ability to rise above the seemingly ceaseless dribble. I watched her everyday as she twirled her finger round and round a tuft of hair and read book after book between classes. I would sigh and grow more curious by the day. Finally, I decided that I wanted to speak to her. I gathered the courage and asked her what her name was. She would ignore me for days afterwards and this would only frustrate me and drive me to find the answers that I sought. I would ask for the name of her books, I would make jokes and finally after various silly questions she would turn to me and glare. At some point she gave me her name and then told me what she was reading.



It was not until the next school year that me and Karen would realize that we were best friends.



Over the summer, I thought about her. I started going to the library and checking out books to read. All summerlong, I read many books. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. She seemed to read lots of things, just like my big brother.