This week I picked "A 10th Grade Memory"
I'm pretty sure this was 10th grade, but as that was more than 20 years ago I can't be held liable for any idiot making bets on it. That would have put me age 16-17. I was on top of the world. I was living with my foster mom, who I now just call Mom. I had a stable home, a job, loyal best friend, and a close knit group of other friends. I was the leader in my group. Not that I set out to be, but my friends always diverted to me. My Mom often commented on how the other teenagers came to me for help.
My house was the place to be. The rules were pretty relaxed. My Mom thought it was best not to put too much restriction on me. Figuring it was better if I were up to no good at home than out running the streets. Of course I didn't know that at the time. I just thought she was a cool mom. She let us set up musical equipment to rock out. So long as the amps were turned down by 10. She let me paint my room however I wanted. I enlisted my friends to add their art to my walls, too. All the kids hung out at my house.
My friend drawing on my wall.
There was this one girl. We used to be friends. You know how that goes. We were buds. We walked to school together. Raised hell together. Had sleepovers. Blah Blah Blah. She wasn't my bestie but she was close. That was until she slept with my boyfriend. I don't recall the specifics. I found out. I dumped him, called her a whore and moved on with my life. She did not. I remember one afternoon hearing a bang in the school hallway, and turning to see her and another girl coming at me. Well I took off running.
After school, I told my Mom what had happened. Then I called her, with my mom in the room and told her if she wanted to fight, she was gonna have to do it fair. She was more than welcome to come to my front yard and we could throw down. But it would be one on one. Well, as it turns out, she knew she couldn't take me by herself. So she told her mother a different story, along the lines of I had threatened her.
Long story short, her mom called my Mom, to "tell on" me. When my Mom told her our side, this girls mom didn't believe her, of course. So she threw another barb, asking my Mom, "And do you know your daughter smokes?" My Mom's answer, "Yes, I buy them for her.", and then she hung up. Gotta love Mom, when she sticks up for you.
Smokin' in the boys room? Not this time, but usually. Most of my friends were guys.