Distrust

When I was in 6th grade, I remember I got a chance to sing "There is a Castle on a Cloud" with my chorus class. I was so excited because at that time the Les Mis cd was on constant repeat in my Mom's car so I already knew all the words by heart. Not only that but I got to sing the middle part - "There is a lady all in white, holds me and sings a lullaby. She's nice to see and she's soft to touch. She says Cosette 'I love you very much'" - with only 3 other girls. It was my first quasi-solo.

I went to private school in 6th grade but my best friend went to public school. She lived in my suburbian neighborhood but I lived in the city when I met her at Arrowhead Day Camp, at "Dry Dock" specifically, on a day when we both weren't swimming. We'll call her K for anonymity.

K was the typical popular girl. Her outfits always matched and her keds were never dirty. She french rolled her jeans perfectly, she wore the black NKOB hats for the right amount of time and she was a sweetie to adults and her siblings. If only my mom's kids behaved so well. I hardly brushed my hair. I liked wearing a uniform so I didn't have to pick out clothes. And at three years old, my first reaction to the birth of my baby brother was "Why do we need him?". This sentiment never completely went away.

I came home and wanted to tell K right away about my quasi-solo. At this point, K and I were sorta drifting because she had just started middle school and made an in-school best friend, another K or K2 for anonymity. Unlike me, K2 also had perfectly white K-swiss. She owned the coolest agnelli jeans in every color possible. She could also pass notes in gym class and knew all the people K1 talked about because they were her in-school friends too. But these traits aside, I had this quasi-solo. K would be so proud. It would be just like old times when we traced our hands on Bluebook notebooks and started the "Hand club" and didn't let anyone else in the neighborhood in.

When I got home from school, K2 was hanging out with K. They both came over. I told K about my solo and she prompted me to sing for them. It made me nervous but I very badly wanted their approval. I sang for them in my basement as they sat on the rolled up old rugs my mom replaced some time ago. I made sure to use my best fake British accent like the one that I heard on the cd. K commented "Doesn't Melissa have a good voice?". I think K2 may have nodded. They both excused themselves politely and maturely; something about K2's mom on the way.

After they left, I'm not sure if I was happy or sad. I don't remember. But by the next school year, when I transferred to public school, I was no longer friends with K. Both K and K2 ignored me completely on my first day until my very last.

That story has stuck with me and continued to trouble me, growing into a grotesque manifestation of my insecurity. As the memory lives on, more and more do I hear those two girls giving polite feedback, excusing themselves and laughing terribly once they arrive to safety (you might understand better if you have heard my voice).

Today is one of those days when I thought of this story.