Holding back the fool again

Randi Perkins died and I wasn't sad.

"Hey, Meredith, you're trying out for poms, right?"

I finished tying my shoe and looked up. Randi and two of her friends stood before me in the middle school locker room. "Yeah," I replied.

"Can you do the dance for us right now? We want to see what it's like," Randi asked.

"Um. OK." I shuffled through it the best I could. They gave me wry smiles and left to get in their spots for attendance. After class, I was waiting for my friend to finish dressing out.

"Did Randi and Lindsay ask you to do the poms dance for them?" she asked. I nodded. "Because I heard them talking when they came out. They asked just so they could make fun of you."

Ouch. Not to mention shallow.

I wasn't teased in junior high as much as I was tolerated and ignored, so I naively coasted through under the impression that I was fairly well-liked. For the most part, I'm sure it was true. I never stuck my neck out much, preferring to get to class as early as possible to sneak in a few more pages of the book I was reading rather than socialize in the halls; I bathed regularly, was in the smart classes, had respectable friends, and was meek and nice to everyone, so I doubt anyone had any deep-seated vendetta. Maybe that's why the few times I was on the dumping end of queen-bee refuse, those instances always stuck out in my mind and made me prone to bitter grudges for years.

Randi's family was upper-middle class. She had two sisters--one graduated from high school, one still in. They all played softball, ran track, had sunkissed blonde hair, big brown eyes, and big smiles. Smart enough to earn the good graces of teachers, but not enough to be intimidating. The mother of another one of my friends was the school librarian, and therefore my friend was privy to all kinds of background gossip. Amidst news of silly teacher conflicts and administrator pranks, she told me one day that Randi had a malignant tumor removed from her leg a few years ago and that so far the cancer hadn't returned.

I sat in the cafeteria reading a book one evening, waiting for the school musical to start on the stage that connected that room with the gymnasium. The crowd slowly filled in around me.

"Are there enough seats for us all to sit together?"

"Yeah, right here." They say down behind me.

I heard her voice. "It's too far away. I can't see around." She snickered. "Hey, Meredith, move your big head. I can't see."

"I was here first," I murmured.

"Never mind. You're probably going to spend the whole time reading, anyway." She cackled along with a few others. I gritted my teeth. My first reaction was to cry, but I couldn't allow myself to in front of them. I'd read that the best way to deal with bullies was to ignore them. I hoped that actually worked in real life.

"Leave her alone, Randi," one of her friends spoke up. They weren't all bad people. They started talking about other things. I never gave up my seat.

Our paths seldom crossed once we got to high school, so I was shocked one day my sopomore year to see her in the hall after she'd obviously gone through a few bouts of chemotherapy. She kept playing sports and stayed just as popular. The teachers admired her moxie. She never took any time off from school until one day, I heard through the rumor mill that she was back in the hospital. A few days later, there was an announcement over the intercom that she'd passed away early that morning, surrounded by her parents and sisters. Several of her friends were in one of my classes, and they kept sobbing and hugging each other. There was a two-page spread in the yearbook dedicated to her.

I didn't feel a bit sad. At the time, I rolled my eyes at her weepy girlfriends. She was a bitch to me for no reason other than to make herself feel superior and was just as much to others as well.

I think what truly makes me sad about this is that I got so caught up in hating her back that I couldn't find it in myself to be the bigger person and forgive her. Forgiveness of stupid, insignificant past events is just as difficult as forgiveness of larger transgressions. You forget--which I suppose is half the battle, anyway--but sometimes you haven't yet been able to come to terms with them, and they fester and keep making you bitter. Everybody's a bitch in middle school. People change. Even if they don't, it still doesn't necessarily mean they're a bad person. Obviously she had some redeeming qualitites. I didn't see them, or she didn't allow me to see them, whatever. It doesn't mean they weren't there, and that she wasn't deserving of love or compassion.

Rest in peace, Randi Perkins.