Read Online Love In a Small Town by Joyce Zeller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joyce Zeller
Tags: Fiction
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teenager?
Reaching across the table to cover her hands with his, he said, "I'm so sorry, kiddo. Losing Mom was hard for both of us, but worse for you because you lost the history you shared with her before I met you. I'll never be able to fill that void. I thought we were getting through it. I guess not, judging from what's going on here."
"Oh, Daddy," she sighed. "It's just that I'm afraid to lose the only friends I have. You don't know what public school is like. The kids make your life hell with teasing and dirty tricks. To protect yourself you have to get accepted by a group, make yourself like them, so you can hang with them—a clique. It's the only way to be safe.
"You might not like my friends, but they're the only ones I have—the only ones who wanted me—and I have to keep them."
Safe? What does she mean? This isn't Chicago.
She searched his face for understanding, and then tried again. "The first week, no one would talk to me. In the cafeteria, I'd get a dirty look when I went to sit beside anyone. I ate alone and it felt awful. When Ashley asked if I wanted to sit with her and Tiffany and Madonna, I was so grateful. I didn't buy into their sort of Emo look, but I didn't care. I went along with it to be part of the group. If you don't belong to a clique, you're invisible. You never get invited anywhere, or included in anything. Sometimes the pressure gets so bad you want to blow up.
"The first day, some of the girls made fun of my clothes. They sneered at them; called them 'up-town'; said I was flexin.'" At his look of confusion, she added, "Showing off that I had money. They laughed at my shoes, and I was wearing my new Doc Martens. I couldn't believe it."
He controlled his expression to avoid the smile he would have usually had at something so trivial; apparently not trivial to her.
Trying to voice her despair, she took a deep breath. "Whenever I tried to talk to anybody, they'd look at me, and sneer, 'You're not from around here, how could you know?' Being told you aren't from around here is the worst insult they can throw at you.
"I decided that I'd never have any friends, and then, that day at lunch, in the cafeteria, I was walking past where Ashley, Tiffany and Madonna were sitting. When Ashley asked me to sit with them, it was like—they saved my life. I'll be their friend forever, no matter what." Her glance dared him to challenge her decision.
"I'm sorry." Inadequate, but the best he could do. "I had no idea what you were going through, but if this group accepted you, won't others follow along? Even better, why can't you have your own group? I know it takes attitude and confidence, but you used to have that in spades."
She sighed. It made him feel like a hopeless idiot.
"You'll never understand. You aren't there and you've never been."
Stung, he searched for an answer. His entire teenage life was a history of not belonging. There had been no friends, only him and tutors. In college, because he was ten years younger than everybody else, he was left out.
"You can't make me believe that all kids in school are members of some clique."
"Well, no. We refer to them as others, and there are a lot of them, like that boy you saw, Logan Biesterman? He sits at the tools table with three other kids. Everybody ignores them. I guess he wants to know me, but he's such a nerd."
"Can't you tap into that potential member base and build something from it?"
Filled with despair, she wailed, "That is so lame. You make everything sound like a business, even my life."
"Your life is your business, and you are its only asset. It's up to you to make a success of it, and it looks to me like you've made a management mistake. You need to find some new friends."
She looked at him, dumbfounded, like that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. Well, maybe it was. He tried again.
"I know that sounds like I don't know what you're saying, like I'm not hearing you, but making a plan and sticking to it is the only way I
Reaching across the table to cover her hands with his, he said, "I'm so sorry, kiddo. Losing Mom was hard for both of us, but worse for you because you lost the history you shared with her before I met you. I'll never be able to fill that void. I thought we were getting through it. I guess not, judging from what's going on here."
"Oh, Daddy," she sighed. "It's just that I'm afraid to lose the only friends I have. You don't know what public school is like. The kids make your life hell with teasing and dirty tricks. To protect yourself you have to get accepted by a group, make yourself like them, so you can hang with them—a clique. It's the only way to be safe.
"You might not like my friends, but they're the only ones I have—the only ones who wanted me—and I have to keep them."
Safe? What does she mean? This isn't Chicago.
She searched his face for understanding, and then tried again. "The first week, no one would talk to me. In the cafeteria, I'd get a dirty look when I went to sit beside anyone. I ate alone and it felt awful. When Ashley asked if I wanted to sit with her and Tiffany and Madonna, I was so grateful. I didn't buy into their sort of Emo look, but I didn't care. I went along with it to be part of the group. If you don't belong to a clique, you're invisible. You never get invited anywhere, or included in anything. Sometimes the pressure gets so bad you want to blow up.
"The first day, some of the girls made fun of my clothes. They sneered at them; called them 'up-town'; said I was flexin.'" At his look of confusion, she added, "Showing off that I had money. They laughed at my shoes, and I was wearing my new Doc Martens. I couldn't believe it."
He controlled his expression to avoid the smile he would have usually had at something so trivial; apparently not trivial to her.
Trying to voice her despair, she took a deep breath. "Whenever I tried to talk to anybody, they'd look at me, and sneer, 'You're not from around here, how could you know?' Being told you aren't from around here is the worst insult they can throw at you.
"I decided that I'd never have any friends, and then, that day at lunch, in the cafeteria, I was walking past where Ashley, Tiffany and Madonna were sitting. When Ashley asked me to sit with them, it was like—they saved my life. I'll be their friend forever, no matter what." Her glance dared him to challenge her decision.
"I'm sorry." Inadequate, but the best he could do. "I had no idea what you were going through, but if this group accepted you, won't others follow along? Even better, why can't you have your own group? I know it takes attitude and confidence, but you used to have that in spades."
She sighed. It made him feel like a hopeless idiot.
"You'll never understand. You aren't there and you've never been."
Stung, he searched for an answer. His entire teenage life was a history of not belonging. There had been no friends, only him and tutors. In college, because he was ten years younger than everybody else, he was left out.
"You can't make me believe that all kids in school are members of some clique."
"Well, no. We refer to them as others, and there are a lot of them, like that boy you saw, Logan Biesterman? He sits at the tools table with three other kids. Everybody ignores them. I guess he wants to know me, but he's such a nerd."
"Can't you tap into that potential member base and build something from it?"
Filled with despair, she wailed, "That is so lame. You make everything sound like a business, even my life."
"Your life is your business, and you are its only asset. It's up to you to make a success of it, and it looks to me like you've made a management mistake. You need to find some new friends."
She looked at him, dumbfounded, like that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. Well, maybe it was. He tried again.
"I know that sounds like I don't know what you're saying, like I'm not hearing you, but making a plan and sticking to it is the only way I
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