New Diary, New Year

I’m calling freshman year in high school the great awakening because I hope it will wake me up to a new life,  like the dawn of a horizon with endless possibilities.

My high school is a funnel of nine smaller grade schools from three towns combining into one school of nearly four thousand kids. That could mean a clean slate for me.

All my problems in grade school and Jr high with teasing and bullying over my prepubescent bra debut are in the past. At least I hope so. Kids from eight other grade schools don’t know me as the first girl in school to get a bra or the girl with the biggest boobs. While mine are still outstanding by comparison, I’m no longer on a planet unto myself. Other girls have developed and caught up. I’m free from the stigma of my past.

I once read in a book that the blueprint of your past doesn’t build your future. It could be true – right? Well, I hope so.

A glimpse of this new horizon came at the first football game of the new season. Darcy, my doubles tennis partner, is from a different town and grade school. Since she lived one street over from our high school, she invited me to sleep overnight and go to the football game together.

After my mom dropped me off at her house, we listened to music while primping for the game. It was great fun singing into our hairbrushes with the music, giving each other makeovers and trying on different clothes.

And if I say so, we both looked good. After spending the entire summer outside playing tennis, my long hair is very blonde and both Darcy and I have good tans. We look like beach-kissed Coppertone teens.

Neither of us really knew what to expect, as this was our first game, but we did know there would be lots of boys, so looking our best seemed like a good idea.

Made up to the nines, we strutted into the stadium with very little expectation and the ultimate anticipation of adventure. The feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen is a huge rush. But we made a pact to stay together no matter what.

The stadium is composed of the field, the bleachers and a large grassy area between the entrance and concession building and the bleachers. To our amazement, it was packed with students socializing and roaming about with no purpose except to see and be seen.

It was almost like walking into a jungle and trying to assess danger or friendlies. We soon saw the typical configuration of clique groups, with several major exceptions. Since the football players, cheerleaders and band members, plus many of their jock friends, were otherwise engaged either watching or participating in the game, their absence meant other groups could emerge and combine. It brought a new dynamic to the typical cluster scene of teenagers. Roaming around, we quickly figured out without those “popular” groups, some of the social pressure was off.

And with Darcy and I coming from the two largest grade schools, it was immediately obvious that our combined friends and acquaintances encompassed a good majority of the student population. So we moved from cluster to cluster, talking and flirting by introducing each other to kids from our school.

And here’s where things changed for me. Darcy’s former schoolmates were flirting back with me. Yes, I had some boyfriends in grade school, but this was different. It was a whole new world. They only knew the “me” now. Not the awkward puberty me going through the stages of growth, baby fat, big glasses and yes, varying boob sizes. This was the finished product “me.” I was getting attention and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

To be honest, the conversation was drivel. What kind of music or group do you like? What movie did you see? Did you watch this or that show? It was painfully obvious that no one asked me about the last book I read, but I told that part of my brain to shut up for once. It wasn’t the discussion that appealed to me; it was that they were talking to me.

I know it’s a little silly to crave empty and shallow admiration. After all, you can’t judge a book by its cover. But at fourteen years old, just once, I wanted to shed my intellectual pursuits and feminist sensibilities and shamelessly flirt and have boys fawn over me. Well, not exactly fawn, but at least show some interest. 

There were a few boys, but mostly there was a cute one named Teddy. He had sparkling caramel eyes that made me want to melt. And even his braces smile made my heart skip a beat as it shined in the Friday night lights around the stadium. After that Jr High school incident where two kids kissed and locked braces, I swore I would never date anyone with braces for fear of the incessant teasing of being the ones the firefighters had to pull apart. That was brutal. It was the talk of the school for months.

Darcy knew Teddy in grade school and when we walked away for a moment, she warned me he had a lot of girlfriends. I contemplated that for a moment and then disregarded it. He was cut and I was convinced I could change him. Then he came up behind me and asked if I wanted to get some candy at the concession. I swear I heard a choir singing in my head—finally!

I nodded and grabbed Darcy’s hand and pulled her along with me. There’s power in numbers and I was pleasantly scared to death. But as we walked to the building, he gently took my hand and the formerly angelic choir was backed by rockets, fireworks and trumpets. It took everything bit of strength I could muster not to giggle like an empty airhead girl.

For the rest of the game, his hand never left mine and mine never left Darcy’s. Gratefully, we gathered with some other kids so she wasn’t a third wheel, but to her credit, she stayed with me the whole time and kept true to our pact.

I don’t even know what was discussed as my mind was completely focused on Teddy. I kept looking at his face and the wave of his chestnut brown hair and how his t-shirt showed off his muscular arms. The one thing I heard was he was on the freshman football team. So went my theory about no jocks in the crowd. And another rule broken, I never wanted to date someone in the sports group. But maybe I was discriminating against popular people and athletes. I didn’t know him well enough yet to eliminate him on that basis. That would be wrong. I shouldn’t judge his book by what he does. At least, that’s what I told myself to rationalize everything. But in that moment, all logic and reason left me.

Before I knew it, without watching one minute of football, the game was over and everyone had to leave the stadium for the parking lot. It was time to go home. Darcy and I walked him to the parking lot where his mom was picking him up.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday,” he said and leaned in to kiss me.

It was quick but nice. I guess. I was caught off guard and was a little lost in all of it. It was wet from the gum he was chewing and I could taste the cinnamon flavor. Honestly, I had no basis of comparison. It was my first kiss.

When I came back to consciousness I said, “But you don’t know my schedule, how will I see you?” I innocently asked. 

“I’ll find you,” he smiled.

And I was hooked. I felt like the caterpillar that became the butterfly. I shed my ugly awkward exoskeleton and now it was time for me to spread my wings and fly.

I know that’s the case because that night, I floated on air back to Darcy’s house. He didn’t ask me for sure, but I think I have a boyfriend?

When we got back to Darcy’s house, we shamefully stalked him a little, looking at his posts. He didn’t post a lot, but a little about football and he liked a lot of his friends’ posts. So, he wasn’t into social media. Many boys aren’t. Maybe they just don’t know what to post. That’s ok, I like surprises. I know enough for now.

I couldn’t wait for Monday. This is going to be a great year.

 © Suzanne Rudd 2023, all rights reserved.

Diary of a 9th Grade “D” Cup will be available in August. Preorder now at a discounted rate.

Read the 1^st book and meet Katie and learn of  her beginnings.