Name Piece

January 7, 2010
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From the time I was three until 15, I had the grades. I was one of the girls people knew. Not to sound arrogant; but I was kind of a big deal. I had tried to fit in. Woke up at 5 in the morning to get ready. Wore the “right” clothes. I dated or had a thing with the boys people thought were hot. Worst of all, I did things I probably shouldn’t have because people thought it was the cool thing to do. Most of these things didn’t start happening till I was in eighth grade.

The girls I had hung out with thought it was fun to rip people apart. They also thought it was fun to embarrass them by spreading rumors and telling secrets these other people trusted them with in the past. And of course I thought the same since they were all doing it. One day my freshman year, my friends and I were sitting at lunch. The girl no one liked was sitting alone and we thought that was hilarious. The other girls were saying, “Don’t feel bad she brought this upon herself.” But what did she do? To be honest, I didn’t know. Her high school career was being ruined by a bunch of girls who had nothing better to do. We laughed at her for weeks and day she didn’t show up to school. The worst part of this story is she used to be one of my best friends. Our parents were also friends. Her mom had e-mailed my mom and told her about what was going on. How we had been bullying her. It turns out that is why she didn’t come to school.

I came home from field hockey practice that same day and my mom was sitting at the dining room table. After the next words came out of her mouth, I knew I was in trouble. These were the five deadly words that no kid wanted to hear. “I’m very disappointed in you.” Me being the sneaky kid I was, I played dumb. My mom and I sat and talked for almost an hour about what went on at school. How it was wrong. The conversation ended in the worst way possible: “I don’t even know who you are anymore.” My jaw hit the floor. How could my mom say something like that?

The next days I thought about it and realized my mom was right. I couldn’t believe I was agreeing with her. The truth was, I had changed. Not for the better. But for worse! I wasn’t even being Shelby. I was being more like the girls I was friends with. I’m not always put together. I don’t always wear the right clothes. I don’t only like to date the hot or cool boys. But I am Shelby. I am clumsy. Shy at first. Funny. Loud when you get to know me. And I love being around people who can enjoy that side of me. From the age of three until 15, I was known as the perfect girl. From 16 until almost 18, I’m now the person I should be. Shelby





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