Pilfer

Childhood: INNOCENCE OUT

     I was 9 years old and trying to keep up with the popular group of girls in my class. They were whispery and fleeting in their movements on the playground. I suppose it would be obvious to some that they were intentionally trying to get away from me, burdened by my neediness to join in with them. From my perspective, these were the girls who came to my birthday parties. These were the girls in my small class in my small town. I was one of them and they simply must not have heard my cry of, "Wait up, you guys!"

     I lost sight of them until I heard some snickering above me on the playground. I looked up to see Maggie, Joelle and Jenny. Even at 9 and 10 years old, the three musketeers, as the parents so fondly referred to them, were something out of a magazine, in my longing mind. Maggie had wispy, sandy blonde hair that rested perfectly straight and lightly on her shoulders. Her skin was sunkissed, always, and she had the sweetest freckles sprinkled across her nose. She didn't have dark brown random freckles and moles on her arms, ear, face, hips, legs like I did. Joelle was tall and slim. She had this presence when you were around her. At the top of our class academically, where she remained right through high school graduation, and the icing on the cake was that she had wit and charisma, especially with adults. I always heard it, "Don't you know Joelle can do her own laundry? I wish you'd be a bit more responsible like Joelle." Outgoing and humorous and this wild mass of curly dark brown hair to match.

     Jenny. What wasn't she? I swear she began developing before any of us. She was older by almost a year and was already wearing training bras. I knew this because she would playfully yell, "Ohmygod, stop it!" when the boys would try to snap her bra. She was perfect. She only wore pink and had silky blonde hair that almost shone white in the summertime. Her skin was like porcelain without a trace of blemish. She was pure. Pure something ... Jenny was sweetness on the surface but I can't imagine she was anything but dark and black inside. I don't mean that she simply picked on people. She focused on someone and made sure they had not a shred of happiness left in them by the time she was through. Although she seemed to always forget to include me at the cafeteria, when forming teams in gym and during any social time, she never really targeted me as she did the 3 kids in the class that didn't have much money and showed up to school with greasy hair, sometimes dirty clothes. Those were her punching bags. She would whisper, "Scumbag," and, "Retard," whenever she passed them in the hallways or at their desks. She made sure to put them in what she viewed as their place. At the very rancid bottom.

     The girls were at the top of the twisty slide on the playground. I could hardly see them because the sun was like a halo over their heads, reminding me of the extravagance of their existence.

     With some hesitation and a quiet voice, I patiently asked, "Can I come up there with you?"

     "Ew, your clothes are so gross. Where does she even buy them? I bet she doesn't own anything from the Limited so she can't play with us anyway," Jenny proclaimed, to my humiliation. The corners of my mouth have very strong muscles that seem to force themselves downwards when I find myself trying not to cry. I did not own anything from the Limited and displayed this failure by immediately pressing my chin into my chest. A cloud blocked the sun momentarily and I instinctually looked up, remembering that Maggie had a shirt on that I too owned from Carmine's Clothing on Broad Street. I was only allowed to wear it for special occasions.

     "Maggie isn't wearing anything from the Limited," I managed to get out. That did me no good. Joelle immediately took off her scrunchy and handed it to Maggie.

     "Now she is. You're so stupid." I put my tongue in my cheek in a further attempt to hold back tears and began to walk away as they continued their whispering and giggling, likely at my expense.

     I swiftly turned in desperation at the sound of my name. Jenny was calling me, "We are so sorry. That was actually wicked mean and you can come up here if you want." It's pathetic looking back, but I did not waste a moment and I literally ran to their beckoning call. That's all we want is to fit in, right? I ran before the opportunity passed. At the top, the girls were twirling my hair and telling me how they loved that I had dark, straight hair. My pink and frayed shorts were apparently "sooo cute!" They smacked their gum and I could smell, almost taste, their berry lip gloss that I wished nothing more but to try on as they passed it around to one another. They never did pass it to me. It's been a pretty boring school year but being the last week of school, I'd savor this moment as it may never happen again. I stared at their glistening eyes, and breathed them in and I smiled for the mere joy of being near them. The bell rang for us to come in from recess and they decided we should take the slide down.

     "GO Liz! Come on! Let's go!"

     They were poking at my stomach and acting as if they wanted to tickle me and make me laugh before my descent. I hopped onto the slide without another thought and it was instant. It felt ice cold at first and then the burn came as I whimpered out involuntarily, "Ow.." I was already sliding and scraping down the hot metal slide as it burned the underside of my legs. Sure, we all endured this back in the 90s but we were mostly more aware of the days the slides were too hot and avoided them. How lucky for them that I held them in such high regard that the heat was the least of my concerns. I realized the trick when I saw them running down the wooden stairs of the playground hysterically laughing at me and yelling, "Stop following us! You're so creepy! You might want to check your hair!" I squeezed my knees so hard into my chest at the bottom of that slide. I buried my face deep into my legs. I felt my hair absorb my tears as strands stuck to my cheeks. I could taste the saltiness, the wetness under my runny nose. Check my hair? I combed over it with my hand until i felt it. Gum squeezed into the hair on the back of my head. How does defeat empty us so? How is it that emotional pain comforts the physical burning of our own skin? How could my chest hurt so deeply? This was the point in my life where one normally feels nothing but worthlessness. Any self value, any possibility of misunderstanding stolen. The moment of realization that I was a nobody. For me, I knew that I was not going to be handed an easy go in this life. I would not avoid hurt. I did not know what was left to endure going forward.