A Mean Girl

At the end of the 8th grade, with my freshman year of High school just a summer away, we all decided to go try out for the marching band’s color guard. Showing up to practice was great because I knew so many of the girls- until I saw Sara. After a week long, brutal, try out; Ellie, Beth and I all got in… and so did Sara. The bonding with my new guard family ended that week as finals and summer were upon us. The next time we were scheduled to meet was in July- during my family’s yearly vacation to California to see the rest of my family. Informing my coach I wouldn’t see them, I promised to meet up all other times.

Everything was great for a while, and as it had become normal that was short lived. In fact, it all changed at our first official color guard fundraiser- a car wash. In the middle of one of our breaks, the coach and captain pulled me to the aside to talk to me. They said that the other girls of the team had been saying that I was going around and discouraging Beth from being on the color guard. Shocked, and greatly hurt, I denied the claims. I told them the truth, near to tears I may add, that Beth is my best friend and I would never dare to tear her down in such a way. They believed me, and the subject was dropped after that. I brought it up with Beth, who also hadn’t heard the rumor, and honestly it brought us closer. The best rumors always do.

What remained fishy for me, was that at the time I was still the “new girl” to the group. I didn’t have their numbers. I was still in the 8th grade- I wasn’t even allowed to have a cell phone! Who on the team would have started such a rumor- and dare try to turn my best friend from me? Who had access to both the 8th and high schoolers? Sara. My opinion of Sara dropped drastically after that. She declared war with that rumor, and war was what she got.

Sara’s best jabs were behind the back- the worst kind. Rumors and jabs at my reputation. I was more direct, if gossiping where she could hear me is more so. But we were still girls about it- for the most part. I won’t lie, fighting Sara brought out the worst in me. I truly learned how deep and dark my own mind can be.

Ask any band member and they will tell you that there are no secrets in a marching band. We are made up of our our own status pyramid within the great High School one. So it was no secret when Sara’s band boyfriend took an interest in me. This is where it gets twisted. I had no interest in him, he was cute in a dorky, lanky way but not my type at all. But knowing that Sara knew he saw something in me was all I needed. Thanks to Facebook, and long band practices, I gained a flirting-friendship. When he told me he loved me- no matter what content he meant in it, knowing that I could spread that back to Sara was the most satisfying I think… Until I convinced him to break up with her. Though it would have been the biggest bitch slap to Sara to get with her sloppy seconds, I didn’t have it in me. So I encouraged him to go after another girl… The same girl he would later marry and have a beautiful son with. (We’re still friends on Facebook.)

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sara started a new rumor about me, and it got around school. Normally, the rumors were seen as nothing. People who knew me, knew that I’m actually very sweet to everyone (minus a few). For some reason, this rumor really stuck and I found myself outside of the band room facing down a spirit team dancer. I had no chance to defend myself, and had it not been for her boyfriend- a fellow band member- I would have gotten my ass kicked. As she went for the first swing, he pulled her back and I took that as my moment.

There is something that needs to be understood about me, I am a pacifist. I believe violence is the last resort and we should try to work things out with our words first.

But that wasn’t the case here, and so I ran. Going down the hall, I rounded the corner and took shelter by a exit door- just in case she decided to come after me. She didn’t. After a quick cry, I made my way back to the band room and rushed to the guard closet (The space of the band room where we held all our guard equipment). The coach and captain saw me, in my state, and asked me if I was okay. I wasn’t. I burst out into tears once more, and they quickly pulled me into the closet. With the door closed, they told me to explain it all. I did, in between cries. Rumors, fights, and that I couldn’t do it any more. I mentally could not handle it any more- I was becoming unstable and felt as if I might be going crazy.

I know they said something to someone, because after that, everything stopped. I was still extremely angry and bitter towards Sara, but not even I could top breaking her heart. I had reached my high. Maybe she had reached hers with the fact that I had mental breakdown minutes before an important practice. But after that day, it all just stopped. Sara and I went back into the silent peace-treaty. Even when I got stuck next to her on a two and half hour bus ride- I was happy to act as if she wasn’t staring out the window to my left. Luckily, at some point, I switched seats with her only ally on the team and I was happily sitting solo. (That night I wound up getting sick in the middle of the game and got my own seat on the ride home too- score.)

The last message I ever got from Sara, is in my freshman year high school yearbook. I transferred mid-year and had Beth send it to me in California. I was so excited to see my teammates’ messages, until I came across one in the back crack of the book. “First to sign, and in your crack. :P Miss you a bunch, HAGS. Sara” That was the moment I realized that we hadn’t been in any sort of silent agreement. She had to dump a bucket of salt into my wounds.

The worst part of this whole ordeal, isn’t the fact that we tried to ruin each others lives, or that she got the last word. The worst part to me is the fact that she most likely faked most of our short “friendship”. Sometimes I believe she hated me before we were “friends” and only got close to me so that she could hurt me. Because I don’t know why she didn’t like me. At least with my 6th grade bullies (who pushed me to attempted suicide) I was able to confront one. Her answer to ‘why did you hate me so much?’ was “I don’t know”. I realized then that she wasn’t a leader, rather a follower. Being she and the leader were no longer friends, I was able to forgive her and we actually got along quite well during our time together in the 8th grade.

My reason for despising Sara was because she hit first. I live by the principle of ‘treat others the way you wish to be treated’ and to just be frank with people. If you don’t like me- tell me to my face and we’ll have no issues. She treated me like shit, and was the biggest back stabber I’ve ever known. High school is hard, and keeping a good rep was something I was going to fight tooth and nail for- it’s something I did fight for.

I’ve forgiven Sara for everything she did to me, it’s taken me years and I’m still working on it. Thinking back on it, I realize she was a classic bully case. Unhappy with one’s self and so you take that anger out on someone else- that someone else just happened to be focused on me. Maybe she hated the fact that Ellie and I were such “amazing” friends. I say amazing like that because once I moved, Ellie cut me from her life quicker than you cut off your hand after a zombie bites it. Ironically, I’m a little bitter towards Ellie now because of how quick she was to cut one of her “best friends” from her life. Whatever the reason, shit happened.

Sara, on the blue moon chance that you ever see this, I forgive you. But I hate you. There is a seed, deep, deep within my most inner being that will forever loath you. You tried to ruin my life. I nearly lost my mental stability, and you turned me into the person I swore I’d never be.

A Mean Girl.

I was a bully, the same person who nearly killed me just a few years before. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did to you. I still believe that every action was all done in just, but that doesn’t mean I can’t live up to how my actions affected you. I am truly sorry. But I still hate you. I will never, ever, in a single breath I take; like you. Ever. I can’t. I’ve tried. I thought that in order to forgive, that you had to rid yourself of the hate of the person. Turns out, you don’t. So I’m going to end this on a modified quote:

I’ve officially forgiven you, and after this post, I’ve forgotten you.