Junior High Years

I believe my self esteem really went down the tubes around Junior High. Maybe you have a similar experience. My dad worked second shift and my mom worked during the day and went to school at night, so she didn’t have time to show me how to do my hair, or buy me stylish clothes. They did what they could and I don’t think they knew how much style matters when you are in those puberty years. I was a mess.

Picture this… a short, skinny, 80 lb., pasty-white girl with glasses and braces. Her hair was a dull brown, straight, stringy and parted at the side. She mostly wore stretch pants and oversized T-shirts. That was me. I had a mole on my chin that really wasn’t that noticeable, but to a self conscious little girl and her eager-to-pick-on, male classmates, it was huge and I was the wicked witch of the west. Damn that movie! Poor misunderstood witch, she was probably scarred from her junior high years too.

Seventh grade was the year of independence. I wasn’t stuck with the same kids in class all day, and I was able to pick my electives. We had enough after school activities for the future drug dealers to stay busy. I was finally going to do something that felt right. I had always wanted to be an actress since I was old enough to pick a career. I never picked a movie star, like most other little girls, it seemed to unattainable. I just said actress. Through the Looking Glass was my first try-out for a play.

I was paired up with a girl named Sara from my class. She was tall, cubby and had short blond curly hair. I liked her, she never said anything mean about anyone, and I heard boys making fun of her, behind her back. We practiced for hours before our names were called. As you can imagine, two 12-year-old girls, when nervous, get the giggles. We began our try-out alone in a classroom with the director. Things were going well for the first two lines and then… she mis-pronounced the word unique and the giggles began. I read my line as “why don’t you come into my house dear.” She read “wow, everything in here is so YOU-NEE-Q!” Everything out of her mouth from then on was hilarious. I probably had never laughed so hard in my life. Every time I would compose myself I would hear her say the line all over again in my head, and I would burst into fits of laughter taking her with me. Overall my spirits were not crushed; I had a hope that the director would see my inner talent and drive to become a famous actress. Plus I wasn’t the one who messed up, and how could I not laugh at the mis-pronunciation of unique.

When the cast list was posted a week later I ran out of class and down the stairs. There was already a huge group of people looking at it. I only had a few moments to check the list and get on the bus so I tried to push my way through the crowd. That attempt failed miserably when a group of boys noticed me pushing my way to the front. They decided it would be more fun to hold me against the lockers until everyone was done looking at the list and I calmed down. They had a hold of my shoulders and I was pushing and squirming trying not to cry. Finally I couldn’t hold it any more and tears ran down my face and I cried out “Let me go! I need to catch the bus!” They started laughing and a teacher in a nearby classroom came out and proceeded to shoo them away, as if they were a pack of raccoons in the garbage.

I ran up and checked the VERY long list of names. As you may know, "Through the Looking Glass" is basically "Alice in Wonderland" and there are a ton of characters. I looked the list over once and thought I may have overlooked it. I mean on a list that long how could my name not be on it? I went through it slowly one by one, completely forgetting about the bus. Finally with no one left in the hall and the buses pulled away I realized my name was not on the cast list.

My dream was dead. I felt like someone punched me in the stomach. I turned away from the list and sat against the wall sobbing by myself. I wanted my dad to come and give me a Lifesavor the way he did when he knew he couldn’t say or do anything to take the pain away. I felt all alone, and the one thing I thought I would be good at was taken away from me.
I walked home from school that day, tears streaming from my eyes and a hole in my heart to find an empty house. My mom was still at work, after that she would be going to class. My dad left for work already. So I turned on my cartoons and cried myself to sleep.

There was no longer anything to look forward to in my life. I went through the motions becoming more bitter. I went to the school dances every Friday wearing colored corduroy pants and various striped shirts. I would get so excited that perhaps tonight someone would ask me to dance or at least talk to me. Upon arrival the hallways would be lit-up with the dim floresent lights. Kids would be filing into the gym. My friend Alice would say she would meet me there but usually she would already be inside avoiding me and getting the other cheerleaders to point and laugh.

The gym wasn’t decorated. It held only darkness with loud music blaring out of huge speakers set on either side of a D.J. table. The bleachers would be set up on the sides and a line of teachers stood behind a table, where a yellow cooler labeled water was setting.

I tried mingling with the different groups of girls, trying to spot someone I could talk to. There seemed to be some kind of rumor that if anyone was caught talking to me they would end up dancing alone all night, because every time I tried to make a conversation the group would move away.

The only person that called to say she would meet me was standing with some other cheerleaders in the center of the floor. I was relieved to see her even though I always regretted coming up to her while she was in a group. As I walked forward she glanced in my direction and leaned in to talk to her girls. I smiled as her eyes met mine and I asked her if she was having fun? She said “Oh, sure I am Mandy! Wait here, Jenny has to use the bathroom we will be right back.”

At that point I usually ended up sitting by myself watching the groups of girls and boys mixing slowly until the end of the night left the dance floor surprisingly full of couples.
My crushes would be dancing awkwardly with my female classmates, with about two feet of space between them.

I wanted to be accepted, but there seemed to be no hope. Some days would be better than others. But the days that were bad, now that I look back, were heart-breaking. It didn’t stop with eight grade either. I was only getting worse. It was nearing the end of the year when the snow was melting and spring gave way to apple blossoms. The end of school was right around the corner. April had come and gone and it was now the end of May. School would be out in two weeks.

One particularly nice day came and every kid was excited to get out and enjoy the sun. I was actually not having a bad day. I had science class for eighth hour. The teacher could no longer keep our attention so she let us socialize.

I sat dreaming about opening the pool on the last day of school, when I noticed people were laughing. Across the room a boy named Kalvin sat on top of his desk, making up a rap about school.

I only caught the end… “because I am black! And Amanda Anderson is fat!”

I was not saved by the bell! Everyone was laughing and looking at me waiting to see my reaction. The year was 1992 and fat wasn’t to be mistaken for ‘phat’ as in cool. My eyes swelled with tears and I looked down, grabbed my books and hurried to the bus.

I climbed on and took a seat toward the back near the window. I didn’t say a word and silently cried all the way home. I vowed that I would change by high school if my life depended on it. I didn’t need to read about betrayal and hurt. I lived it already. I had been betrayed by my best friend countless times. I had my feelings hurt by so many people I couldn't even name one person that I ever wanted to see again. I was an after-school-special waiting to happen, only there was no happy ending for me.