Stream of consciousness...

4th was painful. The pain intensified through the end of the 6th grade.

I thought I had a best friend, but she told me as years passed where we went from friends to enemies, like most girls do. Yet, she shared with me one day that she used me when her "true" best friend was mad at her. Nice.

This same "best friend" I thought I had was the boy-magnet for EVERY guy I had a crush on. Totally not her fault, I know, that they had a thing for her. However, she fully knew how much I was in love with said boy(s) before she got involved with them. And not once did she acknowledge this fact that her actions hurt my feelings. She went steady* with every single one. Doesn't sound so bad? Well, of the five boys I liked, she dated all five guys (and ironically she started dating them after I had admitted to like them). The greatest irony of all is she ended up marrying a guy I had a crush on in junior high school. Funny, no? The one guy this didn't happen to reduced my ego to a memory so vibrant, I can recall the details decades later. I'll call him Will.

Will was different from the other boys in that he was outgoing, spoke his mind, and had been going steady for a long time with a girl named Ariel. Will and I live close to the school so we became friendly during the summer's open campus. Kids with nowhere to go were allowed to hang out on the school's playground where we could borrow equipment to play handball or play caroms games. It was a safe (and free) environment for kids with working parents.

During one of Will and Ariel's "break up" phases, Will flirted heavily with me. I was weak; here was a boy who wanted me and not my "best friend." I realize I was being as cold to Ariel as my "best friend" was to me, but multiple rejections can do that to a 10 year old. I was caught hook, line, and sinker.

By now, I'd even met Will's mom so when he invited me over one morning, I didn't think twice about what we might do together. I wore my best outfit which consisted of a multi-hued pastel colored button down shirt, white tank top showing beneath, pink corduroy shorts, and these uber-70s sandals which belonged to my mother. I put the ubiquitous Madonna-fied lace headband in my hair and adjusted my not-quite cokebottle glasses and hobbled over to Will's house.

Once I arrived, I realized we were alone in the house. This made me nervous, but in a good way. I had a major crush on Will and he felt the same about me! We sat in the living room and I wasn't sure what we could do to hang out.

At some point, I knew he would kiss me. This would be my first kiss, and somehow I knew it'd be one I would never forget. I don't recall what dialogue preceded his leaning towards me, but I remember being nervous but ready.

Will leaned over and put his lips to mine. But then it got weird. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, and I was rather surprised, but I had heard about French kissing. so I went with it as awkwardly as my tongue could handle it.

Then it got weirder. He pushed me down to where I was lying on the sofa, and then he shoved his hand down my tank top and started to group my tiny breast. (I had enough to fill a training bra, but I had never expected this!) I was way out of his league and I pushed him off of me. I sat up and adjusted my top and I had no idea what to make of this. The needy and insecure side of me didn't want to offend him, but I was very confused by all of this. I was not prepared for my first kiss to have unfolded like this. None of my behavior, even pushing him off, seemed to bother Will.

He smiled slyly and then asked me if I wanted to go to his bedroom and (I will never forget these words) butt f*ck. Yes, a ten year old asked me if I wanted to butt f*ck.

I had no idea what that really meant. As naive as I was about such adult matters, somehow I knew what it would entail physically, but I had no idea why a boy would want to insert his penis into an anal cavity.

My mind raced from being shocked and horrified, and yet I didn't want to disappoint this boy who seemed to like me. I sat and looked at him as I tried to make up my mind. I felt it in my gut that it was wrong and I wasn't even sure how it would all go, so I quietly uttered the word, "no."

"Get out." He said those two words and walked into his bedroom and closed his door. That was it. I waited in that living room for a few minutes, not understanding what just happened. I thought we were friends? Why did this one no create such a division between us? After I waited and realized he was truly not coming back, I left his house.

I walked home slowly, replaying the events in my mind, and all I recall was feeling confused. I entered my empty home, glad for the solace, since I had no idea how red my face could be. I didn't understand what the appeal could be to do this b.f. "thing," so I took my clothes off and stood in front of my full length mirror. I turned around to examine my butt, wondering what he would have seen had I done his bidding. I saw two mounds of flesh below my backside. I didn't get it. I was glad I didn't go through with it (this unknown thing) but I didn't know what it meant to my friendship with Will. I found out the next day.

The scene was the afterschool playground. A few of the regulars were there, including myself and Will. I don't recall how we ended up face-to-face as in who approached whom, but I do remember the circle that encased us as we looked across from one another. And I don't recall who spoke first, but I do remember the details which followed.

Will looked at me with a face full of hate. He said, "You are so fat and so ugly. I would...," he paused to fake the motion of grabbing my glasses from my face, drop them, and crush them with his foot the way one would rub out a burning cigarette butt, "smash those ugly glasses."

My mind is blank after that motion. I think I cried. I think someone walked away with me. I think the schoolyard adult supervisor spoke to me to try and soothe my pain. I honestly don't remember the rest.

When the school year resumed, I think there was some rumors floating around about what happened. I don't know what was said. Perhaps he called me a slut or perhaps he left that all out and just continued to call me fat and ugly. All I remember was that Will and Ariel were back together. It is amazing how the mind can block painful memories. And yet, sometimes the harshest parts remain so vivid.

Epilogue: Junior high was a decent change, though I can't say for much better. I was going to church which allowed a new group of people I could get to know. On my way one Sunday morning, as I looked out the van's tinted window, I saw a boy riding his skateboard down the street. It was Will. I hadn't seem him after graduating from elementary school, so this was the first time in a few years. My heart stuck in my throat and I was so grateful for the darkly tinted windows. He never saw me that day. And I never saw him again.