That Girl in High School

I’m sorry I sat in your seat in English. Even though it wasn’t assigned, teenagers mutually understand how everyone has that seat you sit in, the same seat every day.

I was new to town, you see. The girl who sat in front of you—the girl who you thought was you’re best friend—she liked the way I played with her hair. She told me she didn’t even like you that much.

She told me you had a crush on me, and that’s why you were so mad. She said you knew that I was gay, but it was just a crush. So by me sitting in your seat, behind the girl you thought was your best friend, the girl who didn’t even like you—you cried.

You cried and you left the room before class even started. You cried and called your mom. You cried and called your mom, and you told her to pick you up.

Of course, after that, talk went around school about how I was mean to the girl. About how I was mean to her, and she cried. About how I was mean to her, and she cried and called her mom. About how I was mean to her, and she cried and called her mom, and told her mom to pick her up.

Everyone thought it was funny. Everyone thought I was a hero. Everyone made fun of you.

I didn’t make fun of you. I thought it was sad. I thought it was sad you cried.

Months down the road, I didn’t think about that girl in high school. I didn’t think about that girl in high school until I got an after-school job, and her mom came every day for coffee.

One day you came in to get your moms coffee to-go. I gave you my number and you texted me when you got off work.

I tried to arrange to meet you for coffee, but you never could get around your home-schooling classes trying to graduate early.

You texted me every day. You FaceTimed me when you were bored. We became good friends until you got a boyfriend.

A couple of years down the road and I was married. I was meeting a friend for lunch. She invited the girl who you thought was your best friend. We sat in the parking lot before going in and decided to invite you.

You met us inside. But you weren’t the same.

You were no longer the girl in high school.