Eighth Grade -- continues page 2

“Okay class, it appears that everyone is here so let’s get started. You will notice that the textbooks are sitting here on my desk in stacks. Please take a textbook and return to your seat. The seat you are sitting in today will be the seat you will keep for the year. Unless of course problems arise and I feel the need to separate people. I’m assuming however, that since you are now in eighth grade, you are becoming responsible for your actions and know how to behave properly in class. Now we’ll begin with the row closest to the window and work our way across the room. When everyone in the row has their book and is seated, the next row can come up. Okay, row one.”

And so the procession had begun. There were murmurs, laughing, but it wasn’t chaos, everyone did exactly what they were told. I was in row three, so when it was my rows turn, everyone stood up, walked to the teachers desk and picked up a textbook.

“Susie, I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” This was a nice gesture on the part of the teacher, however for me, it was reliving the past.

I smiled and looked down, picking up my textbook saying, “That’s okay, I’m use to it.” and then tried to laugh; even though, I could feel my face once more becoming warm. I tried to quickly turn around and find the comfort of my chair, however Bob was directly behind me, and I ran right into his chest. That was the closest I had been to a boy.

Bob of course smirked and I could feel his eyes watching me as I went quickly and quietly back to my desk.

Upon arriving at my desk I began examining the outside of the book. It was old, the corners were slightly turned up and the covering was missing around the corners. There were some kind of dirty splotches splattered on the front, back, and spine of the book. Almost as if it had been kicked around like an unwanted present. I was disgusted. Then I opened the neglected book and this musty, dirty smell climbed its way into the air. The pages were dirty, there were marks, it was just as disgusting as the outside. I had just started reading the Table of Contents when Bob leaned forward once more.

“Some book huh? Mine will probably never leave the locker. You wouldn’t mind if I just looked over your shoulder and used yours would you? You’re probably pretty smart, maybe you could tutor me?”

Before I had a chance to answer a voice had rung out from the front of the room. To me it sounded like an angel rescuing me from the devil himself. “Okay class, you are to put book covers on these books, there is to be no writing in them, and you must always have them with you.” Saved, I thought.

Once again I heard the sound of shifting weight behind me, this time however, it was accompanied with a different sound; the sound of a desk chair moving on the floor. Then Bob’s deep voice whispered in my ear, “I’m still going to share your book with you during class.”

My neck and face went from sun-kissed to sun-burned in the matter of milliseconds.

“Here let me cool you off,” and I felt warm air blowing on the back of my neck. I was petrified. Yet underneath the massive layer of petrified stone I had turned in to, I was also intrigued and struck by feelings I thought were only allotted to the “beautiful” and “popular” kids – not me. Thankfully the bell rang and it first appeared that everyone quickly rose from their desks and herded their way towards the door.

Once the room was three-fourths empty I got up from my desk and followed the stragglers out the door, with Bob very close behind me. Once again he bends down and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to follow you to class. I’m going to be watching you.” I turn around and look at him. He’s smiling, not sweetly, but like a wolf.

“I’m not very smart, and I don’t think I can tutor you. There’s no reason for you to follow me to class.” I was hoping that would be enough to make him go away. But instead he just said, “No. I’m going to follow you.” And he did.

As the school year progressed I would see him leaning against various lockers, with one of his feet propped up on the cold, gray, metal closet. He was just watching me. He did manage to bring his English book to class, that is, when he was there. I also discovered that he lived in the same general area as one of my close friends. Thank goodness he never made the connection between me, Jennifer, and her older sister.

Jennifer was a year younger than I was. We met in chorus and I would sometimes go over to her house over the weekend, and sometimes she came to mine. It wasn’t very often though because our houses were not within walking distance. Jennifer had an older sister who was in ninth grade, and she was a little wilder than we were.

In the 1970’s, at least at [name withheld], there was a definite division between the party crowd and the no-thanks crowd. Of course there were other groups as well, but these were the two main divisions at that time. Jennifer’s sister ran with the party crowd – pot smokers and drinkers.

One evening while I was visiting Jennifer Bob’s name came up. We were sitting in her pink well-decorated bedroom. She was sitting on her twin bed with her back against the wall, and I was lying on her flowered throw rug that was placed over her brown hardwood floors.