Member-only story
THE NARRATIVE ARC
‘3rd Grade Me’ Turned Down the Popular Girl’s Friendship
A Tiffany Lazer Story
I remember the first thing Tiffany ever said to me.
The first profound thing. Now, it wouldn’t be fair to call Tiff my friend. I had a third-grade style crush on her, which is only slightly different than how an adult does it, I suppose. Filled with plausible deniability and charming if awkward: don’t let them catch ya looking chagrin.
I went to this big box, parochial school in corn-as-far-as-the-eye-could-see small town Ohio. Over the summer, I’d moved there from verdant pines, and sun piercing through the road’s canopy, Michigan. Left my favorite place for what would become my least favorite.
Desperate to figure out my place and how to make friends as a Michigander in Ohio. I scoped out what I thought were my top candidates, and Tiffany was number one.
Saint Joseph’s School was a box made of red brick. Big enough to hold grades pre-k to eighth. Overshadowed by a vault of a Catholic Church. The steepled cross so high it could be seen from anywhere in town. It menaced over us, like a German Gestapo stood tall.
Both buildings leered and watched as we played.
