Strange

I remember in second or third grade hanging around the old playground equipment during recess with some other kids.One of my classmates started shaking the loose metal poles, and out of the joints came dark brown water. "Look, chocolate milk," he said. I believed him.

I remember in fifth grade sitting with a girl in the field of my school during Back to School night. We talked about this other girl who liked me. Some time later, it got dark. I remember my mom asking where I'd been.

I remember being at a middle school dance inside our cafeteria. Right next to it was an outdoor eating area with concrete benches and tables. I tried so hard to be part of this group of guys. I remember I'd follow them inside, they'd talk or something, and then they'd go back outside. It was stupid. It felt so degrading having to follow them around. They didn't even talk to me that much. We didn't really have anything in common. Also, I remember that I didn't know any of the popular songs they were playing, but the guys around me did, so I swore to myself that I'd listen to the radio and memorize the lyrics and stuff. I gave up after a week or so.

I remember playing tag in my middle school after school. I forget why we were there, but a bunch of kids were hanging out and we decided to play tag. I wore a lot of that AXE crap--I sprayed it on everything--so I remember sweating and smelling sweet but in a gross way. Then these girls started saying how so-and-so girl and I would look cute as a couple. Well, so-and-so girl was there with us, and everybody pretty much pressured her into doing something. She took me aside and explained to me that she didn't think of me that way. I don't recall being mad or upset; it felt too surreal. I might be incorrectly remembering this, but I believe someone told me later that so-and-so girl didn't think I was cute.

I remember in freshman year of high school, sitting on the wrestling mats on the stage of our gymnasium during badminton practice. I was holding a composition notebook and pretending to sketch. I cannot draw--at all. I thought I was being aloof and mysterious. Some girl came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I pretended to be annoyed and shy. Actually, I was annoyed and shy. I told her I wasn't doing anything, so she left me alone.

Last one is a funny one: I played saxophone in middle school. Band was my fourth period, right before lunch. My third period was on the other side of the school. My band friend had a class near my third period. I can't even fathom the events that began this, but we used to race across the school to see who got to the band room first. I recall that we'd walk on opposite sides of the classrooms. (The classrooms were in rows, three joined classrooms per row, around ten or so rows in total. My school was open-air.) Usually we'd fast walk, but sometimes, if it was close enough, we'd sprint. He had the instrument advantage because he played the flute and I had to lug around my saxophone. But I had the weight advantage because I've been thin all my life. It was fun. Eventually, though, we stopped racing because one morning we were running down the hall, and either he ran into someone, or I hit someone with my saxophone case, which caused them to fall over. It was an accident that wouldn't have happened if we weren't running, so we stopped racing. The most fascinating thing about this was that neither of us really acknowledged that we were competing; it sort of came about and ended non-verbally.

Last, last one: In sophomore year of high school, I had math class right after lunch with this girl I really liked. She was friends with one of my friends, so we were sort of friends, sort of not. For this reason, we'd hang-out during lunch, and remained talking with people until the one minute bell rang, and we'd rush off to class. Well, one time we were really late. Since I was still a school boy back then, I really, really did not want to be late. We're half-jogging, half-running to our class. We're outside the classroom, when the girl I really like trips and falls, and all the loose papers in her notebook come flying out. I stand in the entryway, watching. The final bell rings, and I panic. I don't help her up. Instead, I go inside, put my stuff down, and return to the doorway. Not knowing what else to do, I tell this girl to hurry up or else she'll get a detention. Her face is bright red. She slinks inside. To this day, I still wish I'd helped her up.