rekkidblogga

Girls talk

"Cathie Scott's gonna kick your ass."

I just stood there, speechless, because how do you form words when your throat seizes up in terror and you're this close to crying, even though you hate the idea of crying in front of people?

"I'm telling her you were talking about her."

And you can't defend yourself, thanks to the whole throat thing, but you know you've never said a word about Cathie Scott. Ever. You know her reputation around school. You don't talk about Cathie Scott. Ever. Because she will kick your ass.

So you stand there in the girls' room, knowing that you won't live to see tomorrow, even if it is fifth period and you just finished gym class and Social Studies is next and then you'll get right on the bus to go home and Cathie Scott isn't in your class and she doesn't ride your bus and as far you as you know, Cathie Scott doesn't have a clue who you are. But she's going to kick your ass. Because Tanya Dooling, who you thought was your friend since just yesterday you were sitting in the coveted back seat of the bus with her, cutting up loudly and talking about Rick Springfield and making fun of the other less-fortunate, totally-not-as-cool-as-you kids in the seats ahead of you on Bus 198, has told Cathie Scott that you were talking about her. It's Friday and even though your only weekend plans were to ride bikes with Jamey all afternoon and maybe make fun of Brent and his annoying little brother Adam before you and Jamey and Kevin sat around in Kevin's front yard, debating whether Led Zeppelin was cooler than Jimi Hendrix, you won't be doing that because you'll be getting your ass kicked by Cathie Scott. It's not fair.

While Mrs. Ontal tries her best to convince you that knowing the difference between longitude and latitude will benefit you greatly later in life, you start thinking up survival strategies: I'll tell Cathie that it isn't true, that I didn't say anything about her because I don't even know her and I don't talk about people anyway... Cathie knows Jamey. I'll tell her that Jamey's my friend, too, and I wouldn't talk about one of Jamey's friends. And I'll tell her that Jamey told me she's really nice... I'll tell Cathie that I really really REALLY didn't say anything about her and that if she thinks I did, I'm really really REALLY sorry because I really didn't... If Cathie Scott kicks my ass, I'll tell Cinnamon and then SHE'LL kick Cathie's ass... Maybe I can just run really fast and get on the bus right after sixth period and Cathie won't see me...

During a break in my junior-year data processing class, one of the lamest classes I ever took in high school, Cathie Scott and I had a really nice conversation about what we were thinking of doing after we graduated. She was pretty tired of being lumped in with the hoods, she said, because even if she wasn't super-smart she wanted to make something of herself and taking this class, which was really boring, was her way of doing that. She asked me where I thought I was going to college and I told her I didn't know, but it probably wasn't going to be anywhere special. "You've always been really smart, you know," she said, smiling in a way that made me feel both embarrassed and highly complimented at the same time. "That's really cool."

I bet, back in sixth grade, she never would have kicked my ass for two reasons: Tanya never told her anything; she was lying, just to be mean. And since the Cathie Scott I met in high school was just a nice girl with an undeserved bad rep, how tough could she have really been at eleven? Once we talked things out and agreed that while Jimi Hendrix was cool, Led Zep was totally radical, we'd have both gone on to enjoy our weekends.

posted by rekkidbraka @ 2:14 PM