Will You Be My Girlfriend?
Yes ~ No ~ Maybe
(Circle One)
This was what was scribbled in chicken scratch on the tiny crumpled piece of paper that was passed to me. It was a note from Gary Morton, the most popular boy in Mrs. Monroe’s third grade class. I wasn’t quite sure where he wanted me to go so I handed the note to my best friend Trish and asked her what she thought that it meant. “Ooooh girl! This means that he wants you to be his girlfriend! Tedra and Gary sitting in a tree…K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
I didn’t know what to do or say. I had never had a boyfriend before. And just what exactly did going with someone entail? Did I have to walk with him in the halls? Walk home with him after school? Sit with him at lunch?…kiss him? The flood of thoughts made my toes curl and my stomach churn all at once. Suddenly I became overwhelmed.
“Trish, what should I say, I mean circle?” I asked sincerely.
“Girl, circle yes! Every girl in this class wants to go with Gary and he wants to go with you! You better say yes.”
I quickly scrawled a shaky circle around the yes, folded the bit of paper as neatly as possible and had Trish hand deliver it to Gary because I knew that she would be discreet about it. I wasn’t quite ready for everyone to know yet and I was too nervous to face him myself. I watched him closely as he unfolded the note. He scanned its contents with his slanted eyes and his facial expression transformed from slight curiosity to a coy smirk. When he turned to look at me I quickly buried my head on my spelling book.
I avoided my new boyfriend all day. My avoidance had been successful for most of the day and at this point all that was left was recess. I was relieved that I had made it this far. I had almost made it through the whole day without having to face Gary. I wasn’t ready to face him because I wasn’t sure how people who “go together” were supposed to act toward one anther. I needed time to go home and think this whole thing through, or at least ask someone who might know.
I stopped to use the bathroom on the way out to the playground. I told Trish and our other friends that I would catch up with them so they went on ahead. As I was crossing the playground to join my girls in a hand clapping game called “Hands up to ‘85” Gary and his boys cut me off at the pass.
I froze. Everything around me became silent except for the crunch of gravel beneath the feet of the boys as they encircled me. I looked around frantically for a point of escape but the cipher that they had formed around me was air tight. All of the boys that surrounded me were taller and larger than my small frame so all that I could see was the gray sky above me and the gravel that was a darker shade of gray on the ground below me. This also meant that I was invisible to the outside world ruining my hopes of a heroic rescue from one of my girls or a teacher that was on playground duty.
I quickly searched my mind for a strategy of escape. The only thing that I could think of to save myself was the stop, drop, and roll technique that we had recently learned in a lesson about fire safety. I was already frozen in my tracks so the stop phase of my plan had already been implemented. Just when I was about to drop and roll, two of the biggest boys in the group grabbed me by my shoulders from behind and locked me in place. I panicked! I felt like I was having one of those dreams where you are trying your hardest to scream but nothing will come out. I felt the scream building in my stomach and rising like fire to the top of my throat. Just as it was about to spill out of my mouth like hot lava Gary’s extinguished it with a dry, crispy kiss. I guess lip moisture wasn’t exactly a priority for third grade boys. As soon as his face left mine the fiery scream broke free followed by tears that were equally as hot. I bawled like he had hit me on the mouth instead of kissing me on the mouth. I guess that my fanatical outburst scared the boys because they let go of the death grip that they had on me and took off running.
At this point, but all too late, my girls had come to liberate me. My chest was exaggeratedly he…he…heaving because I had been crying so hard. I used all of the strength that I had left to explain what had happened to my girls. I felt weak like I had just come home from battle so I began to swoon. Trish and my other girl slung my arms around their shoulders and guided me into the principal’s office.
When the secretary asked me what was wrong I managed to tell her between my dramatic stuttering and hiccups,
“Some, some, b-b-boys were mess, messing with me on the p-p-play…ground.” Then I burst back into tears at the traumatic memory of it. The secretary had me lay on the bed in the nurse’s office while Trish embellished what had happened including a list of the first and last names of all of the boys that were involved.
The following week at school an office aide came to our class and called a list of names of students that were to report to Mrs. Eisenhower’s room. I was excited to see that coincidentally all of my girls including Trish and myself were on the list. I was equally as horrified to hear that Gary and all of his boys were on the list as well. A red flag should have been raised in my mind telling me that this situation was directly related to last week’s incident but when you are in the third grade you just don’t pick up on things like that right away.
For the rest of the school year an office aid or Mrs. Eisenhower herself would come and get us out of class to go to her special room. We sat in a circle and colored pictures and completed worksheets in a workbook. All of the assignments followed the same theme. They talked about the body and not letting grown ups, strangers or any one you weren’t comfortable with touch your private parts. Back then I found the class to be an exciting opportunity, especially since it got us out of our regular class.
I didn’t pick up on it back then but now I realize that the soft-spoken, patient Mrs. Eisenhower was actually the school social worker, and we were her clients in a therapy group! Trish must have embellished so much, and I must have been so shaken, that the adults thought that Gary and his boys molested me that day. If they had only known that they put all of that time and effort in to a crusty kiss between a boy and a girl who were too young to know what it meant to “go together.”
