Me as a kid

I used to imagine myself beautiful … not that I was ugly. I had big eyes and soft brown hair … all any kid needs to be considered cute. But I wore glasses, and never had much of a sense of style. In my imagination, I would come to school in a beautiful flowing white gown, with long hair, and sparkling white shoes with high heels. I'd walk into the classroom, and everyone would turn and stare. Kids would run to me, and ask if they could sit by me at lunch. And Janee Jolley, the snob, would be bald, her long curly locks taken by a sudden illness she had brought upon herself with snobbery, and her bald head would be misshapen and have bumps.

The dream would always be hobbled at this point. I couldn't imagine going to recess in my beautiful white dress and heels. The dress would get muddy, and it would be hard to run. So I in my mind I switched to beautiful white pants, which had the magical property of not getting dirty, no matter how hard I played. But they didn't flow when I walked, and iI would lose interest in the odd amalgamation of dream and practicallity.

I had two enemies in 3^rd grade; Janee Jolley the snob, and Chelsey Hillman. Janee didn't pose much of a threat … frankly, I wasn't in her league. She lived on the hill with the other rich kids, had beautiful long blond curls, and was surrounded by a bevy of friends on the playground. I didn't interact much with her, only on the odd occasion when we were assigned to the same group table in class. She was for the most part a philosophical enemy. She represented everything I hated, and wanted.

Chelsey Hillman, on the other hand, was real. She was a mean critter, with sharp teeth and claws. She and her divorced mother lived in our neighborhood. She attended my church, went to my library, and played with my friends. We went to summer camp together, and ate at the same table in the cafeteria. I hated her. She hated me. She and I vied for the same friends, and she tried to poison their minds against me. She watched for ways to ruin my life. I had to be vigilant to avoid her tricks. I had to be conniving to spar against her. She told Laurie, my best friend, that she would rather die than invite me to her birthday party, even if I was the last person on earth. Laurie told me this, with pity in her eyes.

I tried on occasion, to do what we were taught in church, and turn the other cheek. I tried to be nice to Chelsey. I tried to invite her to my birthday party … the sacred day on my eighth birthday when my mom would actually allow me to have a “friend” party, rather than just birthday cake with my own family. I had five brothers and sisters, and my mom would only let us have friend parties on our eighth, twelfth, and sixteenth birthdays. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event, practically, and the first time I would have this privilege. I prayed for the strength to invite her. I felt inspired to do it. I wrote her name on the back of an envelope. Then I erased it. Then I wrote it again and put it in my coat pocket on the way to school. Then crumpled it into the garbage once I got there. I pulled it out of the garbage, and saw that it was ruined. I threw it back. I had failed. I couldn't do it. This was my day, and I didn't want her to ruin it. I knew I was being selfish, and didn't care. I had a chance to bridge the chasm, and didn't. I didn't want to take the risk.

The greatest affront, perhaps, was that I had invited everyone I could think of, even a few boys. But I didn't invite her. Not if she was the last person alive on earth.