Odd Girl Speaks Out Read online

  In eighth grade, we went on a class trip to New York City. Nobody wanted to room with her because she was weird. She smelled like fish, and she was always homesick, so she'd whine about it. Nobody wanted to hear about that.

  So throughout the trip we took turns taking her. It was like a punishment. She was very into Wicca. Well, not Wicca, but more like witches. It wasn't Wicca ... it was weird ... anyway, me and my other two friends decided to mess around with her 'cause it'd be fun.

  We decided to become "witches." We would pretend to "talk" to each other mentally in class when everything was prompted. We even made it look like we made things appear from the sky. It freaked her out and I enjoyed that, too.

  Besides that we did other little "harmless" stuff, like make up rumors and whine to teachers. We even cried about her to make it seem like she was horrible. She wasn't really horrible; I think that my hatred just grew the more I kept it in. She still doesn't know why I was so mean to her. Looking back on all the things I did, planned, and participated in, I do regret it, because she was a really nice person at heart. She just lied sometimes.

  I'm in tenth grade now, and we go to totally different schools. I still talk to her. The only time she IMs me, though, is when she wants to talk about guys. No offense or anything, but I go to an all-girls' school, and I hear enough "I don't get guys" stories. But I play nice and help her through it because that's what friends are for. I mean, I can tell her I don't really care, but it doesn't annoy me, so I don't have to.

  —AGE 15

  Follow the Leader

  Waking up to an alarm clock is not half as refreshing as being awoken by the scent of the summer breeze. It is so aggravating for the alarm clock to interrupt the pleasant dreams that keep you away from the stressful real world. Eventually, I always awaken. The aroma of pencil shavings and uncapped Magic Markers fill my room. I sit up gradually on the side of my bed; with another slight move I might fall face first onto the carpeted floor.

  I glimpse over my shoulder at the blinking clock—it is almost time for school. Yet another day of seventh grade. My excitement is overwhelming, ugh.

  "Briiinnng, briiiinnng," the uneasy sound of the telephone breaks the silence.

  "Leslie!!" By the tone of the goody-two-shoes voice on the other end, I knew it was Rebecca.

  "Hey Bee, what's up?" I reply as I rub my eyes, hoping to keep them opened.

  "Just calling to remind you to bring the tank top that I left at your house to school today." I agree and tell her I will see her soon. She came over during the weekend with my two other good friends, Kayla and Zoe. I did not invite any other girls from school; I don't usually invite the other girls anywhere, to be perfectly honest.

  The moment I step onto the school's property, my mood changes drastically. From the time I hop out of bed, to the time I devour my breakfast, I am the most petulant person to be around. When I am in the presence of my friends, there is not one moment my face looks despondent. I walk proudly toward the cluster of my girlfriends, and we start teasing people about anything that we are capable of teasing them about. The bell rings loud enough for people in the next town over to hear—that is one of the things on our school's repair list. Kayla, Zoe, Rebecca, and I run toward the building; we break away from the gathering of our friends so we can gossip alone.

  As the year went on, my three good friends and I never spent much time with the other girls. We kept to ourselves. Zoe and Rebecca became awfully close, as did Kayla and I. My and Kayla's friendship became stronger every day. From babysitting together, and trips to my grandmother's house, to skiing, we were inseparable. Every Friday, the four of us would hang out at one of our houses. Despite the fact that invitations to the other girls' houses were always on the table, we hardly ever accepted them. We enjoyed the company of ourselves, and ourselves only.

  Classes were brutal. The ninth-period bell was the solitary fixation that separated my captive hours from my freedom. Eventually, it would ring and I would dash to my locker. The hallways were crowded; always are, always will be. As I walked through the long narrow hallway, I would tap all of the girls on the shoulder. Ahead of me, I had spotted Zoe. I greeted her and attempted to tell her about some kid farting in class, but she turned and walked away from me. Zoe and I have never really hit it off. We were friends by accident, you could say. But lately, we had grown closer than ever before, and to turn away from me struck me as odd.

  Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months: Zoe, plain and simple, did not like me any longer. Either she stared me down during school, or she just did not even notice me at all. Talking online was the closest I could get to Zoe. She never told me why she became so mad at me. She always referred back to "Leslie, you know what you did." Honestly, I haven't a clue of what I did to hurt her. While I was around her, I made sure I did not utter or do anything stupid. Zoe was the type of person that you want to be friends with. Her personality drives you toward her in a way that if she were mad at you, you would be on your knees for forgiveness. Every school has one of those kinds of girls.

  Kayla and Zoe have been friends since elementary school. Because of Rebecca and me they never spend much alone time. Kayla stuck by me while Zoe despised me, which made her seem like the ideal friend. Even though each weekend Zoe would invite Kayla and Rebecca over, I would stay strong and try not to become upset by it. Zoe, Rebecca, and Kayla started hanging out with the other girls. Surprisingly, none of them invited me along.

  The end of the year came, and I was so grateful I would be going off to camp soon enough. I had hoped that by the end of the year Zoe would have accepted my apologies, but she didn't. Throughout the year I must have apologized more than ten times to Zoe; I received no acceptance from her.

  Rebecca started acting strange toward me. She never called to hang out with me and never acted enthusiastic online whenever I would talk to her. I was leaving for camp in one week, and I sat home alone the entire time. You could see Kayla's attitude change about me. I always was aware of the fact that Kayla did not have a backbone, that she was no leader, just a follower. I never expected her to leave my side though.

  I invited Rebecca and Kayla to sleep at my house the night before I left for camp, and drive me up there, but Rebecca declined. I was brave enough to invite Zoe to accompany me as well. I should have expected the retort she gave me. Kayla accepted the invitation, which made me in high spirits. I thought this could be the foundation to starting over.

  The day before I left, Rebecca, Kayla, and Zoe were together. They were at Zoe's house with some boys. I was at home, fixed on Zoe's away message. I can't remember what it said, only the last section of it. "Loveee—Zoe Kay and Bec."

  My mind boggled about the actions of Kayla. I kept thinking why my name was not on that away message, why Kayla was not at my house, why they most likely were not even thinking of me at all. So many things to "not" do in one away message. My best friends have betrayed me, I was leaving for two months and they did not even have the decency to say good-bye.

  As I sat in my room with tears rolling down my face, the doorbell rang. I knew nobody would answer it, aware of my family's lazy habits. I decided to clean my face off and go open the door. I looked out the window, and there stood Kayla with a large bag on her shoulder and massive sandals on her feet. I scurried toward the door and opened it with excitement. She came inside and I knew everything would be okay.

  Summer went by so fast, like it always does. A summer with many letters full of "I miss you" and "come home soon." I wrote and received tons of letters to and from Kayla. I gathered four letters from Rebecca and wrote her at least twice. I also wrote some letters to the other girls, and I built up my courage and wrote to Zoe. Zoe never wrote back.

  Once again school started. This time I was not so excited for it to begin. My car pool picked me up as usual. Rebecca is in that car pool; she did not pass me a second glance. I stepped onto the school's property, this time not so proud. Everyone hugged one another, and shared quick
stories of their summer. Nobody hugged me. Nobody told me a story. I walked toward Kayla, hoping to find someone who would actually be excited to see me. Kayla looked at me in a way I will never forget. That one solitary look said it all. It told me to not go near her, I would embarrass her, or she was not allowed to talk to me anymore. I headed over to some of the other girls, feeling a little abandoned. The girls did not care to see me; they did not miss me at all. I walked into school alone.

  The school year went on, Rebecca took me off of her profile. Kayla eventually decided to have no profile, most likely because she did not want me to know what was going on. I walked in the hallways alone, from class to class. I looked at all of my other friends I never hung out with. I realize I got what was coming to me.

  I saw Kayla all the time in the hallways; she never looked at me, and when she did it was not a pleasant look at all. She forgets how good a friend I was to her, and I doubt she knows why she had so much hatred toward me. Rebecca was not very subtle with not liking me. She gave me looks that were so insinuating. You know the expression, "If looks could kill," well, let's just say if this statement was literal I would not be here to tell my story. Zoe and I never associated. We never looked at each other, never thought about each other, and never were aware of each other's existence. I was so lonely.

  Zoe and Rebecca were the type of people that intimidate others. If they ostracized someone, the other girls followed. I had no friends in the entire school, and I hated it. After school, I would stand outside with nobody to talk to. The boys looked at me as though I had three eyes. I started to appreciate the people who I used to make fun of; it was not fair of me to do that to them. I only wanted one thing, and that was to go back in time and fix whatever I did to hurt Zoe. Zoe ruined my eighth grade year, and it is not even winter yet.

  It has been four months since school has started, since my friends have left me, since I wanted the weekend to come. I have not had a lot of conversations with people at school, and I am getting used to that concept. My schedule during the day is simply to listen to the teachers and walk from class to class. There is nobody to walk with in the halls, but at least I get to class on time.

  Another day of school rolls around; I wake up early for extra help in math. My dad drives me to school, and as I slam the door shut, I see Kayla. Kayla is right by the door, the only way to enter the building. I walk toward the front door with my head up high.

  "Hey Les," a voice utters my name. I turn around and face my ex-best friend. A smile disembarked upon my face.

  "Hey Kayla," I reply in a calm tone. I open the door and head to the math room. As I walk up the brightly painted stairwell, I remembered what my mom once told me, "Hurt me once, shame on you; hurt me twice, shame on me."

  —AGE 13

  Why Is She Acting Like This?

  One of the most annoying things adults tell girls when someone's being mean to them is "she's just jealous."

  Please.

  When I'm talking to a parent, and she tells me what's happening to her cut-down and devastated daughter, and the parent says the other girl's just jealous, here is what I am thinking: So, Mrs. X, that really popular girl who's excluding Jess and talking about her behind her back and ruining her life is doing all of it out of a deep sense of wishing she could be more like Jess?

  I'm sure Jess is so comforted by that.

  The "she's-just-jealous" excuse has been around longer than panty hose, and it's been about as positive a contribution to girls' lives. The truth is that girls, like anyone else, get mean for any number of reasons. According to scientific research, kids may show aggression in school if they've got problems at home. Divorce, illness, addiction, death, financial trouble: Any of these can stress someone out to the point where they have to let go of a lot of negative energy at school, including fear.

  Yes, fear. Not all mean girls operate out of a brute desire to hurt someone, although there are certainly some who do. Fear is often expressed as anger.

  Imagine it: Your dad's been sick for a long time. There's no end in sight, no one has any time for you, you're freaking out about how your family's falling apart, and suddenly all your close relationships seem like they're in jeopardy. You start pushing people away because you're afraid of getting attached to them—they might leave you like your dad is about to—or maybe you're so angry at your messed-up life that you have no patience anymore, and the stupidest things you never cared about before are suddenly filling you with rage. It happens. In a situation like this, the most terrified girls can become pretty terrifying themselves.

  Another reason girls get mean is "monkey see, monkey do." If you've got a mom who is manipulative, gossipy, and backstabbing, you've got a good chance of going down that road, too. Sometimes the moms actually urge their daughters to behave aggressively, and still others get involved in their daughters' fights like they were just another member of the clique. I've heard of plenty of moms who participate in e-mail and IM wars between their daughters' friends.

  Some bullies hurt their friends through domination and control. Almost like stalkers, they monitor their friends' every move, demand their exclusive attention, and threaten them with abandonment or worse if they refuse to comply. In these cases, the "low self-esteem" explanation really does apply; the girl bullies operate out of a fear that no one would be their friends if given a choice in the matter.

  To be sure, there are plenty of mean girls who really are jealous, or competitive, or threatened in some way by the strengths of another person. But there is no evidence whatsoever that jealousy is the big reason why girls act out. Aren't girls' lives a bit more complicated than that?

  For thousands of years, women have been barred from showing aggression. Although most people never spoke of the darker side of females, jealousy seems to have been the exception. We have seen females vulnerable to jealous rages in stories ranging from Delilah in the Bible to Disney's Cinderella. Jealousy is the publicly acceptable way to explain female aggression.

  But here's what a lot of people don't get: All women and girls get jealous, competitive, or threatened at different points in their lives, including the nicest people in the world. It's not the most terrible thing to happen, either. Jealousy is a totally natural, appropriate feeling to have in a world that places ridiculous pressure on kids to achieve, look good, and be popular.

  Our culture tells girls to be nice all the time, so girls learn that jealousy and competition are "babyish," "selfish," and wrong. And if something's wrong, good girls had better hide it—just like they try to hide their other negative feelings. When the hottest guy in the grade asks the new girl out, and you get that weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, isn't it easier to blame her and say she's a slut? Think about it: Aren't the new girls at school who get cast as sluts or bitches or full-of-themselves usually pretty, self-confident, and liked by guys? Isn't the girl who constantly puts her "best friend" down in front of guys and chirps "Just kidding!" when her friend gets offended really just insecure?

  I'm not innocent. On my good days, I'm willing to admit that I'm jealous of Gwyneth Paltrow, but find me on a day I feel like a slug and I am all, "Gwyneth Paltrow is so annoying. She is not even pretty." Cue eye roll, weird nasal noise.

  Jealousy is one of many reasons why girls act out, but it is not the end-all, be-all. If girls talked honestly about what they were jealous of, we'd see a lot fewer explosions of rage. As with anger, the question is not whether or not you're going to get jealous, but how you're going to handle those feelings.

  Are You Mad at Me?

  Let's say you and I are friends. The bell's about to ring for first period, and you're cramming for a Spanish quiz. You're walking to class, half scanning your notes and half trying to make sure you don't trip and fall. I walk by and say, "Hey!"

  You don't respond. I wheel my head around to watch you walk down the hall, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Why are you ignoring me? Why are you mad? I slide into my chair during first period and start to think. It m
ust be this. It must be that. I can't concentrate. I'm freaking out. By the time the bell rings, I've got at least three different reasons why you must be mad, and the more I think about it, the angrier I am getting at you.

  What's going on? Girls struggle to express their anger, so they often use body language like the silent treatment to express their feelings. But when silence equals anger, signals can get crossed; if someone accidentally doesn't respond to you—like when you say hi, or in a conversation—you may wrongly translate her silence to mean anger. Girls end up drawing big conclusions based on very little information. They get "paranoid," assuming the worst scenario when many other possibilities exist. The more they think, the more they wonder, the more scared they get. As a result, conflicts develop for no reason.

  The next time you think someone's ignoring you, try not freaking out unless it happens again. It's worth the wait. It will save you a huge amount of anxiety. Find the person you think is angry, say hi, and if she says hi back, you're cool. If you need more reassurance, ask her directly if she's okay or if things are okay between the two of you.

  If you decide to tell her why you're asking, don't be surprised if she gets annoyed. A lot of girls I interviewed felt frustrated that they had to say hi all the time to everyone they knew. Try to remember it's not personal. Even if they don't exactly say it, they are annoyed at the world that forces them to be a smiley, superfriendly girly-girl, even when they don't feel like it, and punishes them with people getting mad at them when they're not.

  Im and E-mail: Clicking Your Way through a Fight

  Let's say you feel like a friend of yours has been weird to you all day. You think maybe she's ignoring you, but you're not sure. You want to ask her about it, but you can't really find the right moment, and anyway, you're kind of nervous about what she might say. All day you're sitting in class thinking about it, watching her pass notes with someone else and wondering if she's writing about you. She comes late to lunch and doesn't sit next to you. After that, you're not even sure what happened. There might have been a science quiz that you wrote the answers to in Spanish.