Starting sixth grade meant moving to a new school. Three elementary schools merged into my junior high school; so, while I still had most of my friends from my grade school with me, there were a lot of new kids in my sixth-grade class. Coming off the high of being at the top of the rung in elementary school, it was a shock to be knocked back down to the lowest grade, especially with so many older seventh and eighth graders in the same building. They all seemed so grown up; and they treated us sixth graders as though we were babies.
I would have been happy just sticking with my grade school friends in junior high; but soon groups were mingling and new friendships forming. Add to the new social scene was the fact that we now had lockers and moved between every class to a new room and a new teacher seven times a day (and with only five minutes to do it!). Needless to say, I was overwhelmed during the first few weeks of junior high.
“Hey, LEE-AHH, whatcha doing? Still can’t figure out that locker combination? Get it together girl, it’s been three weeks already!” I kept facing my locker door, where I was indeed struggling with the lock, refusing to turn around and look at the group of boys I knew were standing behind me. Unfortunately, I had attracted the attention of the popular group of guys, most of whom were from another elementary school; although two kids from my fifth-grade class, Jimmy and Brian, had gotten in with them.
“Leave Leah alone, dude,” I heard Jimmy say. He was always a sweet boy; I had been shocked when he had joined this new crowd as to me, they seemed like a bunch of bullies. But his good looks and parent’s money made him an attractive friend addition in the highly competitive world of junior high school cliques.
“Oh, sorry! I’m so sorry, Leah; you know I was just kidding, right?” I finally turned around to see Matthew Boyd with a sarcastic smile on his face. Matthew was the head of this little group of punks; he had just moved to town himself, and on to my street no less, and was using harassment of the local girls to get an in with the popular crowd.
“Leave me alone, Matthew,” I said, my cheeks burning as several other students were now stopped in the hallway and were observing the scene. “Just go away!”
“Oh, Leah! Don’t hurt me like that! I’m just being friendly!” Matthew and the rest of the boys, save Jimmy, laughed, and walked away. Brian, who I had considered a friend, didn’t even look at me but turned to leave with the group, which really ticked me off. We’d known each other since pre-school; so much for loyalty. Jimmy gave me a half smile and said, “Don’t let him get to you, Leah; he’s just trying to be funny,” before jogging off to catch up with the others.
Unfortunately for me, Matthew quickly realized how easy it was to push my buttons, and push them he did. He took great pride in taking jabs at me in the hallways and in the classes we shared. I usually kept quiet, but sometimes I would explode and yell at him to back off. This would only energize him to torment me further.
Looking back, it was very mild, childlike teasing. It certainly wasn’t bullying; and I definitely fed into it with my reactions. What really irked me is that Matthew didn’t tease anyone else; it was only me. After about a month into the school year, he had stopped bothering the other girls entirely and was actually friendly towards them. The teachers all loved him because he was so smart and polite. He was already a star athlete, so even the parents idolized him. I seemed to be the only one who did not get along with him.
“What do you mean you don’t like Matthew?” Krista asked one day during lunch, after I had told her how Matthew had been sticking sarcastic messages into the slots of my locker. “He’s so funny and sweet!”
“Funny and sweet to you maybe, but not me,” I grumbled as I picked at my tuna sandwich. “He is so mean to me. I hate him!” I pulled out the latest of his notes, which he had written on a torn-out corner of notebook paper. Leah - Why don’t you wear your hair down instead of putting it in a bun like a nun? Your friend, M. Boyd.
“See,” I said to Krista, “look what he is doing to me. I get notes like these from him every single day. I do not look like a nun! Do I?”
“Oh, he’s just teasing you! Don’t you know that when a boy plays around with you that he secretly likes you? Maybe Matthew is in love with you,” Krista whispered that last part before shoveling a few potato chips into her mouth.
“Love? Give me a break,” I said, although my immature sixth grade mind did start to wonder if maybe Matthew DID like me. He was cute, I could not deny that. He was clean cut without being too tidy; his hair always looked like it was a week overdue for a trim. I couldn’t help but notice the way it curled up ever so slightly in the back near his shirt collar. And he did have gorgeous blue eyes that seemed to almost sparkle whenever he was talking. He was always smiling and wore cool clothes. He was nice to everyone else. Maybe there was a reason he was giving me so much extra attention.
Of course, it only took fifth period
