8It started with Bobby. Lindsey liked him apparently. Of course the bitch denied it. How would anyone guess? She ignored him completely in public. Whatever. It wasn't really my problem.
I guess I was like most girls, dreaming of a modern day knight in shining armor. A guy who wrote poetry and bought me flowers, held my doors open and whispered sweet nothings. I was young. I was stupid. Sue me for being 13.
Over the summer before eighth grade, a few things happened. Breasts appeared on my lanky figure. My braces were finally removed. I met a new girl over vacation. Oh, and I got my period.
Zoë had quickly become my best friend during the summer break. She had come from the city to visit her aunt in the burbs. I suppose I was nothing more than a pet project to her, a massive makeover. The first day we met, she dyed my hair blonde and threw out half my wardrobe, slicing the remaining items into shorter pieces with deeper slits. We'd spend hours tanning in my backyard or in my room "fixing" my face with makeup and practicing 'sexy' in the bathroom mirror. She left all of her belongings to me the day she went back home, but I haven't heard from her since. She has my number and address. I asked her aunt once too, but nothing. Oh well. I'm still glad she picked me to be friends.
When school started that August, nobody recognized me. Even Lindsey, my enemy since kindergarten approached me, thinking I was a new girl. She invited me to have lunch with her clique- they never ate, just gossiped. It was the point of the matter. Her "OH MY GOD! EWWWW!" rang down the school corridors as the teacher took class attendance and she realized "Oh Gross. That's MARGO!" spitting my name out like sour piss. My shot at popularity was out the window, not that I'd have taken it.
Bobby and the other guys had a bet going. To this day, I don't know the details. I just remember my mother saying there was a young man on the phone asking for me. I took the receiver, confused. The boy spoke as though he were being rushed. "Are you doing anything?"
"No" I said, "Who is this"
"Bobby. From school. We have Science together."
"Oh.. K."
"Can you come out now?"
"Yeah, I think" I answered, with a Cheshire grin.
"Meet me at the park by the library in 10 minutes."
He hung up before I could answer, but I didn't care. My mother had been listening excitedly and wanted to know what was going on. She actually pushed me out the door with insane glee when I told her. I knocked on the door of our house.
"Back so soon?" my mother asked. Annoyed, I rolled my eyes and stormed past her, up the stairs to my room and put on some shoes. On my way out, I ran a brush though my hair and dabbed on a little lipstick too.
We sat at a picnic table under the shade of a large tree. Bobby was yammering on about school, my new look and me.
"I've seen you around" he said in his rambling. "You look good. better than a lot of girls. There's a lot of jealous people at our school." He was on the table, touching my shoulder as I sat below on the bench. Suddenly he fell on me, grabbing my breast awkwardly and shoving his tongue unsuccessfully between my shut lips. I rolled myself off the bench and he stood up.
"So, I'll see you around, huh?" he said.
I didn't understand as I stood there trying to straighten myself out. "What the fuck are you doing?" I shrieked.
"I'm sorry! You're just so pretty. Can I please kiss you? It won't happen again" he pleaded. He was a strapping male specimen- big expressive eyes, sandy hair and a deep tan. He seemed sincere. Minutes passed, more sorrys' fell from his lips and more visions of knights in shining armor appeared in my head.
"Fine," I said. His second attempt was smoother but when he stuck a hand down my pants, I returned the favor with a swift kick to his family jewels. He curled over in pain, wincing and calling me a prude cunt while he tried to hawk a mucus loogie in my direction. I left him huddled by the tree.
The next day, word got around that I let guys do whatever they wanted to do to me, and another school whore was born. At first I tried to fight the rumors, but eventually it was just easier to live the lie and dress the part. I figured if it was true, it couldn't be an insult and the kids would stop taunting sooner or later. It worked for a while.
Or did it?
The school year flew by. I was jumped in the girls' bathroom a few times by an angry group of chick's seeking revenge for a breakup that had no explanation. Naturally, with my whore label, whenever a guy dumped his elementary school sweetheart out of the blue, it was assumed I had something to do with it. Despite the fact that vacation was coming, highschool was about to start and the girl had inexplicably gained 30 pounds and remained flat chested with bad breath. But oh no, such thoughts never occurred to those conceited middleclass future housewives of America.
The last day in that hell hole may have been the happiest of my life. I nearly got suspended for dumping my locker contents on the hall floors and refusing to touch the mess. I got the last laugh at the principals empty threat, skipping across the schools lawn screaming "I already graduated!".
I was hoping Zoe would return that summer but she never did. Apparently she was court ordered to attend bootcamp for shoplifting and perjury after lying to the judge about being a kleptomaniac. I got over it quickly.
"What do you mean I have to go to sleepaway camp?" I said, clearly appalled. "Oh honey, your father and I are going on a 6 week cruise. We knew you wouldn't want to visit Egypt with your parents." My mother attempted to justify the situation. "I can stay home." "Margo, it's illegal for a 12 yearold girl to stay home alone, not to mention dangerous." My father spoke cautiously. "Someone can keep an eye on me." "Remember that wild girl you speant last summer with? She's in jail. Imagine what the neighbors must think. I'll not tolerate a deliquint daughter."my mother declared.
I really didn't have much say in the matter. Looking back, I see that I could have slipped in a few four lettered words and middle fingers but I never was that kind of person. As a kid, I'd ask "Why?" but I never persued past the "Just because." answer. I wasn't a goody-goody either, I just did as I was told. It made me an easy target for curruption.
Up until this point, despite being called a slut for my revealing attire, my hymen was indeed intact and Bobby had still been the only guy I'd had the opportunity to be with. I looked forward to camp. There was a uniform policy of kahki shorts and polo tops.