Petrified of HS mini-reunion

With all this painting, Dr.’s appointments & general running around errands since I’ve been back I haven’t had much time to write.

This summer is flying by, just got a FB invite about a childhood friend going into town for a week planning a mini-girl reunion.  Can’t believe I’m on that list!!  We were friends as little girls, then I moved again to go to another school.  When we all met again in HS, they all had their solid friends.  She was a cheerleader, I was not very popular & hated HS.  In reflection, my parents were “staying together for the kids.”  Guess who acted out??  Easier to point the finger at a 15 year old than to maybe kick dad out – which finally happened then all was good.

Meaning I was an angry teen, getting into as much trouble as the ’70’s allowed.  Thank God pre-meth, just your common pot/alcohol which seemed bad enough at the time.

In the middle of the invite thread, one of our classmates died of cancer.  I’m struggling to remember him?  He was a good looking guy, someone it seems like I would have noticed if for nothing else that he looked very handsome.  The only thing I can think of is the year my bike was stolen, which I wouldn’t have remembered either if it wasn’t the end of the school year.  What happened is we filed a police and school report, me still thinking police apprehended the criminal and I would get my bike back.  Instead, they found a similar bike that had been painted with the number filed off or missing?  The school took that bike and gave it to me, I was a sophomore.

I told my parents that was not my bike.   The school waited for someone to report it missing, no one came forward after a week so they let me have it.  That was my summer beach bike, my only form of transportation.  My parents didn’t drop me off at school or give me rides to the beach, I was on my own (so was everyone else).

The first week of my Jr. year I was surrounded by the “popular” crowd looking to kick my ass while I was sitting on the bike, it was the cutest guys bike.  We got it settled through the office, he got his bike back, then I was persona non-grata the rest of the year.   I don’t remember his name?  That memory came up after realizing I might not remember who the man was who just died because it was his bike?

My Jr. year sucked to the point where I ended up switching HS the next year.  Family problems, no friends, odd girl out I needed a new start.  People even wrote stuff on my locker, it was awful.  Now I could care less, after coaching HS for 5 years I can see how much teens struggle causing them to lash out.  Kids trapped in a growing body unable to navigate solo, they’re like adult toddlers.

My memory has made me forget a whole bunch, which has allowed me to not hold much of a grudge anymore.  Seems like vice-versa?  Especially since I’m invited to the HS cheerleader reunion when I was probably voted least likely to succeed from that HS.

Still isolate myself and have a hard time making friends.  I’m still that tough girl growing up in the mean streets of Manhattan Beach…haha.

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