There I am, trapped in black and white, standing at the end of a group of kids piled on metal chairs and a draft table. They're all gleefully happy to be in this photo of our sophomore year art club. I've got a half smile. I'm in a heavy flannel over a t-shirt, baggy jeans and big black boots.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....high school.
"You look like a kid who was mis-fit into a school she didn't belong in," Rachel says. It is then I realize - misfit could have multiple meanings.
Leslie, Rachel and I were sitting in Rachel & Mart's garage drinking gin and beer and looking through a box of Rachel's old high school year books, notebooks and papers. She'd graduated 1700 miles away and three years prior to us - but all kids in high school look the same. Trapped in a time that is no longer as cool as it felt when it was the present. Still...it sent thoughts of high school running through my brain and I sent Leslie back to her house to get all of our yearbooks.
I never bought any yearbooks. I hated the idea of walking up to people and asking them to sign it. Though I was flattered when I was asked to sign someone else's. But having to walk up and say, "wanna sign my yearbook?" made me feel as uncomfortable as sending back food at a restaurant. Or asking someone out on the date. Because if they secretly don't like you, they'll give a look that's dead behind the eyes and sign something generic like, "Jessica, great to know ya, Bucks Rock! Good Luck!" And if they really don't like you, they'll just say no. And either way, it's uncomfortable.
So there I was, in my Art Club glory. "You really grew up," Rachel says. And I am ecstatic to hear it. "I mean you looked so young, now you look like a grown woman." I push the memory of finding a gray hair recently out of my head - and take the compliment.
Looking through pages and pages of 'so-long-ago' stuff, we all fell into reminiscent moods. Rachel talked about her recent 10 year reunion and Leslie and I talked about dreading ours. Then we decided to get drunk before it, take Rachel with us and crash the hell out of it.
1 comment:
Trust me... I am the queen of mis-fits. Granted some of it was self induced misfitism (my made up word) but even when I got to know people and they got past my "freakyness" I still have never quite fit in. So, I feel ya. You know, as an adult I'm thankful that I'm a misfit.
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