In eighth grade, I had two goals: grow taller and date a boy who was in my science class. The odds were against me. Delayed puberty would keep me from reaching five feet for another year. Middle school’s social hierarchy prevented me from obtaining lifelong happiness with Science Class Boy. He was in the cool, athletic, popular clique and won all the gym class awards. I won a trip to the school nurse’s office for throwing up after running relays on field day. You try running with a short gait, I told the coach.
Yet youth is often blessed with blind optimism. On Valentine’s Day, I prepared a declaration of my affection in a hand-written note. My best friend Tina was also in the class and agreed to proof it. I had no intention of giving it to him. Writing sappy notes was half the fun. I poured my emotions on thick with this one – it would have made Jerry Maguire proud. Science Boy completed me. I drew hearts around his name and mine.
Enter obstacles three and four: Rachel and Robby. Rachel was the known gatekeeper between the popular group and the rest of us. No one could talk to the clique without going through Rachel. She was the consiglieri of eighth grade. Robby was the class trouble maker whom students feared and teachers loathed.
Both were in my science class.
Sitting at my desk, I pulled the love letter from my notebook to pass to Tina sitting two seats ahead. Rachel sat in front of me, and normally didn’t acknowledge my existence, passing my notes to Tina as if she were swatting a fly. Not that day. Maybe it was my sense of urgency that tipped her off. Science Boy was sitting in the row beside her and I had no margin for note passing error. Rachel held my note as Tina awaited the hand-off. However, she paused, revealing a sly smile and began reading the note. Just as I went to grab it from her, someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was Robby, who sat behind me.
“Hey, I got this for you,” he said handing me an unwrapped 45 rpm single record. It was “Short People” by Randy Newman.
While I was momentarily distracted by Robby, Rachel did the very thing that consiglieres do – she capitalized on another person’s vulnerability. She gave my note to Science Boy.
My stomach soured, like I was running a relay.
The teacher turned around from the chalkboard. All I could do was sit frozen at my desk contemplating a move to another school as Science Boy read my letter.
I did not transfer schools. I survived the Note Passing Crisis of Eighth Grade, though Science Boy and I never dated. He would smile at me when we passed in the hallway, but I didn’t want his pity. He’s turned out to be a nice adult. Rachel, too. Kind of. Tina is a really good high school teacher. And Robby? A well-regarded furniture designer. Go figure.
After school that day, Tina and I walked to my house where we played Robby’s gift on my record player. That’s when we noticed he had written a note on the record’s paper jacket.
“Happy Valentines Day. I saw this and thought of you. I think you are nice.”
Troublemaker had a crush on the short girl. I’d like to believe he did not listen to the song before giving it to me. “Short people got no reason to live …” Really?
No matter. I eventually grew taller. And wiser, leading me to meet my husband who makes me feel like I could touch the stars on any given day. Even Valentine’s.