A Fall From Grace
Author Notes: This is a story I write as a looking glass reflection to Judy Tyler, a fifteen year old looking back on the events leading to her downfall. It will be rated R later on for language and content.
I can't tell you for sure, when everything went wrong. I know it was last year... Looking back, it all feels like it never actually happened. Well, no, obviously it all happened. I mean this is my life we're talking about. But it seems as though I didn't actually experience it, but as though I watched it from a stranger's point of view. I was my own narrator, for Christ's sake, is probably what I'm trying to say.
Judy Tyler, you are always going off on tangents! is what my mom always tells me. Or rather what she used to always tell me. I don't live with my parents anymore. I live in California, with my aunt and uncle and their three kids. I'm here trying to start over and put last year behind me. My doctor, Dr. Reece, told me that after all that happened, I should probably get away and live somehwere that makes me feel happy. I can't think of a better place than California. I don't know how people could ever be sad here. It's so sunny and happy and it even smells better than Canada (where I previously lived).
You know, when Dr. Reece asks me when I started getting these... feelings that I get, I told him summer camp, age ten, for two weeks and then the rest of the summer. He laughed at me, I wasn't joking. And people wonder why I never tell the truth. But yeah, that's when it started. It was an all girl's camp. I'd been to camp before, a co-ed one, and it had always been such a blast. I made friends with everybody at that camp man, it rocked. But then one year, my mom wanted me to go to a different one, a very esteemed(read: rich girl's) camp. I said sure, why not? because come on, I was ten. I was stupid. Still am, but that's the moral of a different story.
So I go to the camp, feeling mighty optimistic and happy to meet everyone. Little did I know that I was going to be roomed with the best friends from hell. Four girls, all cute in the movie-cute kind of way. Big eyes, blonde hair, slightly buck front kind who, if you saw them on the street you would say aw, but if you babysit for, but likely end up chopping off their pigtails witht he biggest knife you can get. Oops, I'm not supposed to talk about harmful objects, Dr. Reece said so. Forget that part.
Anyways, so the girls make my life absolutely miserable. They were all second generation camp go-ers, meaning their sisters were counsellors. Meaning that they knew every counsellor, older camper, and activity guide since birth. Meaning they had ownership. Meaning the new girl, moi, was an easy target. They did everything; they locked me out of the cabin for half a night, they discluded me from whisper sessions, switched my toothpaste with sunblock, always tried to sit on the opposite benches at the Mess Hall, and hid my Madeleine dolly, which I slept with every night(and yes, I am aware that I was ten, and a big geek). This, plus a really nasty cold bug which kept me sniffing and coughing all night was misery. Absolute misery. I think I cried every night at that camp, even during the last days of the second week when the four girls had stopped caring enough to hurt my feelings. On the last day of camp, I had a tiny bit of comfort; I would be going home, where I could play with my friends and sleep in my own bed and my mom could baby me and my runny nose.
Strangely enough, that was only a fleeting bit of happiness. The next day, lying in my own bed and secure with the knowledge that from then on, those past weeks would be nothing but a memory, I still cried. I had so many thoughts and so much confusion. I don't remember all that well, but I know I cried almost every night for the rest of the summer. It went away when school started, but only for a year. A few summers later, after grade seven, the same thing happened, except I didn't go to camp. There were no four girls to ignite the feeling inside me.
Grade eight was a dream. It was the best year of my life. It was spent with my best friends of grade seven(we had all only met at the beginning of the previous year) and it was also the last year we would have together. For grade nine, I was to leave that school and start at a different high school. Just for your useless information, the first day at Carver High School went great.
The second day was when it started.