Odd Girl Speaks Out Read online

  At the end of the guidance, Mara just looked at me and said, "Why?" I told her that me and my friends had tried so many times to be her friend (which we had), but it just didn't work out. If trying to be her friend was that hard, I couldn't imagine being her friend.

  So, the next year in fifth grade, Mara stopped acting like us and talking to us. At first we were all really happy, but then realized that we wanted someone mimicking us and trying too hard. But there was nothing we could do about it.

  In conclusion, I give advice to those out there who have someone copying you: just wait, they could become your friend. I obviously made the wrong choice. And to those of you who are the ones trying too hard, don't. If the people don't like you for who you are, then don't bother being their friend. You are special in your own way.

  —AGE 12

  Just to Make You Happy

  This must be a dream because you are here, in front of me. You are talking, talking so sweet and gentle; but whom are you talking to? To me? Really? Wow! Not many people talk to me, really. At least, not many people like you. You're perfect, you see, and I am full of flaws. You are everything a girl could dream of, and I am just one of those girls. Yet, you're talking to me; but why? I just don't understand. You have never talked to me before. You won't hear me complaining. I am lost in your deep, brown eyes. Everything is so real, but how can it be?

  I know you must be telling me something simple, like, I am in your way. Strangely, I hear no words coming from your mouth. I'm staring, but I can't help it. We've made eye contact and I want to devote my life to not breaking it. I still can't believe it! You've never given me so much as a passing glance and now you are actually saying words to me. No, not words, sentences! I listen to your voice that flows like honey, but it seems you are speaking a foreign language.

  What are you saying? I come back to reality just in time to hear you say, "...over." Excuse me? What did you say? Why are you giving me that look? Oh, please don't, it breaks my heart. You unhappily repeat what you said. You want me to move over so you can sit by your friends. Of course! I would do anything for you. Just to make you happy.

  —AGE 13

  Small Town Clique

  My name is Jane. I'm fourteen and live in a culturally and racially mixed town close to New York. I have two older sisters and one younger brother, and we all live together in a traditional family setting. I'm very athletic—people would say "tomboyish." I roller blade, long board, surf, swim, and play soccer and basketball.

  I attended a relatively small grammar school and always had plenty of friends, both boys and girls. I was especially close to Jessica, who I considered my best friend. She was the "It" girl. In third grade I was diagnosed with a learning disability, dyslexia. This didn't affect me socially until sixth grade.

  I was the only sixth grader who had to go to a special teacher and classroom once a day for remedial help. Boys started to pass negative comments about me leaving the class to go for "special help." It was humiliating, to say the least. I never received any different treatment from the girls, or at least I didn't notice it.

  For seventh and eighth grade we have to go to a junior high school, and so do three other grammar schools in our town. I took to junior high pretty well. I met a lot of new girls and was beginning to enjoy myself. I slowly noticed my close "It" girlfriends were calling less and less.

  In school, people started to notice that I was in a resource room for three classes and the embarrassment was worse than before. I have been called "sped" (special ed.), my class has been referred to as the retard class, and remarks have been made about my books being different from other kids'.

  Eventually, I got close to and felt comfortable with one girl, Lily, who also was being left out of her original group. I thought everything was going to be okay until I returned from my Easter vacation. I found that even Lily had dropped me when she was let back into the "It" group.

  I was very hurt, sad, and confused. I did a lot of crying that year.

  My mom made me and my sisters watch the Oprah show on aggressive girls. After the show I cried and told my mom, "It would be nice just to be included."

  I'm doing better in eighth grade, not socially but emotionally. I try not to let it bother me as much and I have two very good friends, Alexis and Maddy, who live down the Jersey Shore. I keep in contact with them as much as possible. They help me deal with everything, but I find it funny, because they've experienced it, too. I guess "mean girls" are everywhere. It seems to happen to everyone at least once.

  I believe I was cut out of the popular girl group because of my learning disability. I think about it a lot and realize there's nothing that can be done to change it. I've asked to be taken out of the resource program but at the same time I know I need the help and the social damage has been done.

  I know that in time my life will change and move forward, but I'm not so sure theirs will.

  —AGE 14

  Popularity and Gossip

  I've always known I wasn't the most popular person. In fact, to me, being popular is something I probably could never be. I'm just not "popular" material. I bet that you've always wanted to know the quiet girl's point of view, so here it is....

  Popularity—To me, popularity means that you have a lot of friends and have to look decent. Do I envy popular people? Of course. It doesn't bother me that much anymore, though. Are popular people mean? Some are, some aren't. It depends on what school you're in, and who the person is. I've seen both nice and mean people. The nice populars tend to be sympathy nice. They have that worried sound in their voice, or throw a random comment at you. I hate it when they throw random comments at you. I suppose they are only trying to be nice to others.

  The mean populars tend to be nice to you, then turn around and start talking about you. They don't seem to notice that the person can see or hear them. It's especially annoying when people turn to someone, whisper in their ear, and stare at you while doing so. Then, out of the "kindness of their heart," the person receiving info looks at you and says something like, "You don't want to know what she's saying." That really annoys me.

  Gossip—Gossip is easily spread around, especially in my school because it is small. You have to be careful what you tell, and whom you tell. I suggest not telling any deep dark secrets to your buddies, because even if you don't want to believe it, it's going to spread across the school. In many cases, one fact is somehow twisted into this forty-minute story on something that was a simple one sentence thing. So try not to tell too many people about your problems, 'cause the next thing you know, everyone's going to be staring at you and you will be knocking on the counselor's door. The reason for this is that people need something to talk about, to use against you, to brag about, to tell on you, so forth and so on.

  About Me—In my view, I am the quiet girl sitting next to you. I am a very shy person, so I usually don't have a lot of friends. It's just my nature; I can't help it. I mean sure, I want to have a lot of friends, be popular and funny, gossip and have fun (which I have anyway). But it's hard for me, so tough luck. Most of my friends are popular.

  My feelings are easily hurt, though I often don't show it. I'm not depressed or anything, just easily offended. Though many people don't seem to understand it, I know what they say about me, I know when they whisper about me. I mean, when you whisper in someone's ear, and both of them are staring at you, it is a little obvious, you know.

  I know who thinks what of me. I've got connections. I've always been nice to people, even the ones that openly express their hate for me. I've done a variety of things from picking up books to helping with homework, going to a teacher and buying candy for someone else, giving them some of my food, and so on. Some people just don't understand me. That doesn't bother me. It doesn't bother me that people talk about me, or that I'm not popular, or that I'm misunderstood. It just bothers me that some people don't recognize what I do for them, even though they treat me like dirt.

  —AGE 13

  Stone
by Stone

  You are very dear to my heart.

  I felt like I could tell you anything

  Right from the start.

  We talked about everything together,

  From our "deepest darkest secrets"

  To crying on each other's shoulders because of something our parents said.

  You were always there for me,

  And I was always there for you.

  When people said your name,

  They said mine, too.

  We were inseparable.

  Until one day,

  You said you liked him,

  But I liked him, too,

  Were we to let a silly little boy come between us?

  All of our memories,

  All of our secrets shared,

  Gone?

  Because of a boy?

  I guess so,

  I guess that's how things go when you're a crazy teenage girl.

  But why?

  The way his hair falls in front of his face?

  That drives me crazy, too.

  Is it the way when his hand brushes yours, you tingle all over?

  Yup, I love that, too.

  Or is it the way he always seems to notice just you, in a crowd of people?

  That's the best feeling, isn't it?

  I know exactly how he makes you feel.

  Trust me, I feel the same way.

  This doesn't mean he has to come between our endless nights

  Of talking.

  The endless tears shed from our eyes, or

  The nonreplaceable friendship that we have built,

  Step by step,

  Stone by stone.

  It takes more than a boy to crumble the wall we've built.

  It is too strong,

  Too intense,

  To fall because of a boy.

  —AGE 15

  Let Me Create Myself

  I walked into school

  And she smiled.

  I thought to myself

  Who could be this child?

  She is not like the others

  All looking down

  Yes, she is very different

  Not wearing a frown.

  I stand there listening

  So silently

  For if I say the wrong thing

  They will surely ignore me.

  I am unhappy with myself

  Trying so hard to fit in

  I try to look like them

  But I can never win.

  She smiles happily

  At me once again

  She makes me feel

  As though we're friends.

  On the same team I never talked

  To her when we played tennis.

  The other girls thought of her

  As unpopular and a menace.

  I finally decided

  No more people creating me

  Let me create myself

  The way I want to be.

  I walked up to her

  And said let's be friends

  She nodded and I knew

  This friendship would never end.

  The sun is now shining

  The clouds are all gone

  This friendship is so special

  That I have fell upon.

  I am thankful for her teaching me

  How to be myself and care

  But what I am most thankful for

  Is the true friendship that we share.

  —AGE 15

  You'll Be Missed ...

  Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some people stay for a while, and give us a deeper understanding of what is truly important in this life. They touch our souls. We gain strength from the footprints they have left on our hearts, and we will never EVER be the same.

  —Author Unknown

  Bike riding, gymnastics classes, endless games of pretend ... my best friend and I did it all; we were inseparable. Growing up across the street from each other made it easy for us to play every day after school, on the weekends, and throughout the summer.

  As young and carefree kids we would spend our afternoons playing with Barbies and setting up lemonade stands. As time went on, we replaced dolls with basketballs and tennis rackets. We discussed our dreams of making it to the Olympics and practiced against any neighbor boys willing. Of course this phase, along with the numerous others, soon came to an end.

  We approached middle school, and all of a sudden, grades, boys, and name-brand clothes became way too big of a deal. We would still see each other daily, but we spent our time sitting in her room or mine talking for endless hours. She was always there for me; she was without a doubt my best friend.

  One day something that had merely been small talk for months became a reality ... she was moving. Her family was simply relocating to a different area of the same city, but to me it seemed as if she was moving to a different country. She would not be at next year's block party, or there to sled down our huge hill after the winter's first snowfall.

  We planned on spending every second before her move together, but we were both in for a surprise when one day, out of the blue, we got into a huge fight. I still don't understand what our argument was about, and I don't remember exactly what was said, but I will never forget how much I was hurt as my best friend—since I was born, basically—said she feels uncomfortable around me and never wants to see me again.

  Being only in seventh grade I was hurt, confused, and alone. When I needed my friend the most, needed the advice and support, she was no longer there. Once she moved we talked briefly online, but within a few months we looked at each other as strangers and the following year we did not speak more than ten words to each other.

  When I found out she had decided to go to the same high school I was going to attend, I wondered if our friendship would resume or if we would remain distant. One summer day before our freshman year, I received a letter from my old friend. It came as a surprise as I read her words apologizing and telling me how she had realized how much I used to be a part of her life. She wanted our friendship back if at all possible.

  Holding back confusion, hurt feelings, and grudges, I agreed that I, too, needed her in my life again. It was really awkward at first; I even felt uncomfortable hanging around her because of our past, and I knew she felt the same way.

  At high school we quickly became a part of two close but different cliques. The two groups still did a lot together and as time passed we worked out our differences and once again became close. We will never again be the same two girls who spent hours in the woods building forts or sleeping outdoors in tents, but at least we had each other to share laughs and to fall back on for support.

  My friend is currently going through a rough time. One of her many obstacles has been the divorce of her parents. Because our families were such good friends, it killed me to see hers fall apart.

  As a result, she is now moving with her mom, stepfather, and sisters—402 miles and five hours and forty minutes from our little road in Missouri. I now realize how lucky we had it when she was only moving out of the neighborhood.

  My friend is smart, athletic, well liked, and incredibly talented; she is always fun to be around! I have total confidence that she will thrive in her new environment and daily become closer to the numerous dreams she has set for herself. I am just sad to lose her.

  I write this story so others can realize the importance of their friends. I had to lose mine to understand how much it meant to have a best friend. Don't take anything or anyone for granted. Let your friends know what they mean to you and that you'll always be there for them.

  Thanks to the Internet, I hope my friend and I will be able to stay in contact. I only hope she knows how thankful I am to have had her as a friend. I will always be here for her!

  —AGE 16

  "A Never-Ending Nightmare"

  When Friends Turn On You

  If you find yourself at school one day and your friends are ignoring you, and no one will tell you why, and even when
you find out why and try to apologize no one seems to care, what can you do?

  A lot of times, not much. When girls get angry like that—and you will know in your gut if they are that angry—they are hard to stop. They have probably been quietly angry for a long time, and now that it's out in the open, they're going to have a lot to say.

  The writers in this section explore the grief, fear, and fury that define the moment when your friends turn on you. Next to food, water, and for some girls, a full-length mirror, friends are the most important part of a girl's existence. It's not uncommon for girls to say things like, "My friends are my life." When your friends are suddenly gone, a lot of girls say their lives are over. I don't blame them.

  Girlfriends help you survive parents, school, guys, and everything in between. When you're feeling fat and ugly, your friends say you look fine. When you're freaking out about grades, your friends tell you how smart you are.

  When your friends are gone, everything about your life looms larger. Things that you could deal with are suddenly scary. Things that were hard before now seem impossible. Some of the writers in this section describe going through a truly traumatic experience that led to depression and eating disorders. Others take their pain as a sign that girls are not to be trusted, ever.

  In spite of their sadness, many writers looking back tell us how pain taught them important life lessons. One writes, "I wouldn't take back anything I went through because I have gained so much through my struggle. I've gained so much more understanding for people. No longer do I judge or label. I am open to everything and everyone; I want to help people who are experiencing what I am, and most importantly I want everyone to know that no matter how bad things seem, they do get better ... I got better."