story+ images / Gina Tron
Sometimes I think about what it would be like to relive junior high school. When I think about this, my brain immediately starts to think about death.
My personality was pretty muted at the time. I was afraid to come out of my shell for fear of getting my exterior cracked by my friends. My true personality would come out from time to time. When it did it naturally only pissed my buddies the fuck off. I think on some animalistic level, I threatened them. When threatened, a beat down is in order.
Most of them had shitty lives and that is why they behaved that way. One girl got raped by her uncle and she told me about it. I remember feeling jealous because no guys tried to have sex with me and she suddenly seemed more desirable because of this. One other was named Mary-Ann and she was pretty rough.
One recess we got into a tiff about earrings or something. She punched me in stomach and stepped on my foot with her shoes. I was wearing clogs with wooden wedges. Clogs. Why in the name of all that is holy and all that is evil are clogs always in fashion in New England!? These things are true foot weapons. I stepped on her foot. Though I’m sure I probably stomped on it. I stomped on her foot and she screamed. She fell to the ground and started crying.
Frustrated thoughts raced through my mind. It was one of the first times I physically fought back and now someone is injured. It created quite a bit of chaos on the playground, as a classmate had to drag a limping Mary-Ann inside to the nurses. I followed, consumed with guilt.
“Gina’s a bit of a violent one, isn’t she?”
The nurse asked Mary-Ann. She was shooting me a vicious look. The ankle was sprained and it had to be wrapped up. She had to use crutches for a few days. The story of what happened spread around a bits. The details got exaggerated each time it was told. Then people forgot about it after about a week. Darkness. End of sixth grade ankle spraining party.
