? 2019

Dear Journal,

I don't remember much of that night, I only remember bits and pieces of it. I remember it being the Friday after semi-formal, which I attended with my good friends wearing a strapless black sparkly dress that came down to my knees. It was far too big on me- well, some parts were. If you're a girl, you probably can relate to having friends with bigger boobs than you.

Yeah, that was me Journal, the petite girl with mild Cerebral Palsy on her right side.

I was already labelled a "goodie-goodie," so, I didn't care what other people thought about me. Maybe me being a goodie-goodie was true because of the many hours I spent in the library during lunch or studying for fun since I felt like somebody when I did those things. Sure, absolutely, but I was so much more than that. Besides, I liked the library. It was quiet, so, it was easier to study or search the bookshelves for a new book to pick up.

***

It was that same Friday during lunch when I was in the library, skimming through the books. I was trying to find something new when I found Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind. I saw it crossed off my reading list.

That's another thing you should know about me, Journal, I love to make lists for myself. I even have a bucket list for my life on my phone.

I brushed my fingertips with one hand on the spine, feeling the jitters of memories flood through my head.

I still remember Journal.

I walked down the aisles and touched various books. Oliver Twist, Moby Dick, and Little Women. They were all under the Classic section, one of my favourites. I sighed as I left the library, heading to my locker so I could pick up my things for class without the rush. Strolling down the hallways, I kept my head down until I passed the vending machines, uttering in complete fear as I locked eyes with a particular group and its leader.

Now you may be asking, "Who is this so-called "group? " Well, all in due time, all in due time. All I'm going to reveal is that they were in my grade-grade twelve. One of them (doesn't matter who, Journal) would always have a class with me, which was dreadful as I couldn't forget what happened at the beginning of grade ten.

I shook the thoughts clear, greeting my good friend Kinsley.

We met last year in grade eleven history, Journal. I didn't expect us to get along very well as she was more outgoing, and I wasn't.

I locked eyes with her honey-coloured eyes, her brown hair with faded caramel highlights was stuck into one giant braid. She also wore her glasses instead of contacts for a change.

"I need a coffee, Jess. Got any money?" She slipped off her black beanie.

"No," I shrugged.

"Bitch I know you have money; you're just being selfish cause you want coffee." She pouted.

Just as she was about to walk away, I turned to her and yelled, "You know me too well, Kinsley. Best to ask someone else who isn't also addicted to coffee." She flipped the bird at me, so I chuckled and went back to doing what I had planned to do before I got sidetracked. As I reached my locker, I saw the same grade 10 boys from the beginning of the year surrounded by it like a pack of wolves.

They were always near my locker as it was near the "smoking bathroom" Journal. I can't be shocked. C'mon, it's high school, not everything can be rainbows and sunshine when we sing about our feelings, like in High School Musical.

Anyways, there they were.

A classmate of mine, Lorraine Daniels, had a younger brother who was part of that group. Lorraine and I had been friends with each other since grade six. She still is, but you know- as you get into high school, people you consider your friends aren't anymore.

That isn't the case for me all the time Journal. I still have a good friend known as "Cat." Her real name is Joy, but I call her Cat because she has so many cats. (She doesn't seem to mind the nickname.) Cat was the first person that was nice to me in grade five. We met in art class when I spilt red paint on my white sweater. Scared that I was going to get into trouble with my mom, I asked to use the washroom which, Cat followed. She even helped me try and get the stain out with what we could use in an elementary school washroom. Needless to say, my sweater never recovered, and I indeed got in deep shit with my mother, but I also managed to make my first friend at a new school and a new place that I would eventually call home.

Every day we had lunch and recess together, and we just started talking about our family and, of course, the show The Vampire Diaries. When we shared our favourite moments together, I had a feeling we would be lifelong friends-and we have been for six years.

I stared at Carter Daniels who was laughing with all his friends who were unfortunately standing and play fighting right in front of where I needed to get to.

God, did they have to do this at my locker? I thought.

"Excuse me," I muttered as they all moved out of my way, thanks to Carter.

I punched in my combination and opened the metal locker, grabbing my afternoon binder and putting away my lunch bag, shutting it. Heading straight to English class, I sat in the front row as usual, greeting my teacher, Mr. Teddy. He said hello while I fidgeted with my neon yellow binder, patiently waiting for the bell to ring. Eventually, it did, and that's when I saw the same group from the hall stroll "coolly" into class.

Oh, did I forget to mention that the whole group is in my English class, Journal? What a "joy!"

As the third bell rang, Mr. Teddy immediately explained that since the end of the school year was approaching, we should start thinking of a topic that speaks to us for our end-of-the-year paper.

I generally put the first thing that comes to mind; brain damage. It wasn't that it spoke to me: it was more of a topic I knew very well as I like to research things. And that I had it!

I immediately raised my hand. "Yes, Jess?" He calmly asked.

"How many pages would you like us to write for this assignment?" I smiled.

"Just a page, Jess," he responded.

I heard snickers from the back of the class, already knowing it was from the group, particularly its leader who once was my best friend in the fifth grade.I frowned, shifting my focus to his malicious grin. Of course, only Trent would do that. My blue-grey eyes locked eyes with his cold, dark brown ones.

I didn't know what his problem was, but yet, I did.

***

It started in grade eight Journal, when we were finally becoming teenagers. Trent and I were very close, but we were only school friends. He was always a player, but unlike most, I saw the good in him. Naturally, we became friends even though he constantly teased me. It was harmless, so I didn't mind.

By grade seven, he was "in" with the popular crowd. That's when we started parting our ways until grade eight- when we had the same homeroom. He came up to me one day during recess and asked for advice on how to ask a girl out. I knew who it was; it was Adalyn. The same Adalyn who always did her makeup perfectly that showed off her perfect light brown eyes. Trent wanted to ask her to graduation, and when you're in grade eight, graduation was like prom. I remember saying that he should just be himself, and with that, he asked her to be his date, which she agreed to. I was happy for him as I was starting to get my friend back.

That night at graduation, I saw them making out. I was what you call "chaste", so while sitting on a chair, I thought to myself: "How does a fourteen-year-old get away with that on school grounds?" Then more people made out. Afraid that someone was going to kiss me, I ran out of that gym like when a race car sets its engine.

By summertime, Trent and Adalyn broke up and he started dating Sydney Allen following the next semester. Sydney, too, had brown hair and brown eyes. I was starting to see a pattern. A few weeks after my fifteenth birthday in the spring, Lorraine told me he dumped Sydney, thinking of something stupid like he "liked" me or something. Of course, I was in denial about that, as I just wanted to stay friends. But Trent and I didn't discuss it until the beginning of grade ten, the summer after I had emergency surgery for my deformed foot.

I was having lunch with my other friends while his group that's with him now was out for lunch that day. When I asked him why he wasn't with them, he said, "he didn't want to go," but I knew there was more to it, I just didn't push it.

I left at my usual time, 12:30 pm, and he followed me to my locker (which was in the basement). He played with my hair, and then my lock while I exchanged my lunch for my afternoon binder. We then walked with one another down the halls until his friends saw us. I tried to leave, but he looked at me and asked, "if I would skip class with him."

I said; "I couldn't", and that's when he told me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Me being me, I turned him down so I wouldn't ruin our friendship. He seemed heartbroken as he went to his friends.

That's the moment when everything changed Journal, and so did I.

***

I looked back at a snickering Trent, so I faced the front. I knew he was watching me- even if his friends weren't, he still was.

I wonder about it still-if I skipped class with Trent that day, Journal, and said yes to being his girlfriend- would things be different? Or would I have been like Adalyn and Sydney- giving him what he wanted, allowing him to chew me up until I was no longer me? Would I even let him proceed to do the unthinkable- toss me aside like any used piece of gum? Would I pretend it never happened and allow me to be his "friend" for the group so I wouldn't be a lone wolf?

Me? No, because I wouldn't give my virginity to anyone in high school. Why? Because I'm old fashioned, I'm waiting for marriage or until I truly love someone.

Still, I wondered, what if.