It’s bizarre how memories will pop out of nowhere in your day and punch you in the face. Well luckily this memory didn’t make me cry with pain but rather, made me laugh.
FLASHBACK to CHILDHOOD!
Ages ago…well more like middle school, I was sent to a tutoring center by way of my parents. It was some ramshackle Korean place that promised something about making kids smarter… when of course it was only a means of getting some kids out of parents’ hair for a couple of hours.
So here I was at this new tutoring center and taking some test to measure my aptitude. All of a sudden, this girl, whose name escapes me, bursts into the room. She’s wearing sneaker heels, short shorts, and has dyed her hair an odd color of beige. This girl looks me straight in the eye and says to me in a biting tone, “Look, there’s a boy in our class that you’re going to be in. And just so you know, HE’S MINE!” She then takes her Hot Cheetos stained fingers and walks out with a swagger like she owned the joint. I was completely stunned.
This girl I’d never met had suddenly made me her enemy. She hated me for what reason? How did this happen? And then in some weird stinging moment, I BURST into tears. I started to cry insanely! The horrific sobbing must have frightened the head teacher because she was the next person to burst into the room asking what was wrong. She thought I was stupid and couldn’t answer the aptitude questions, as if the frustration of unknowing could make me burst into tears like that. Eventually, I mustered that some bitch had told me off wherein the girl was scolded for her misbehavior and probably told to be nice to me.
Let’s proceed to the next day at the tutoring center. We’re all in class and the girl is throwing me nasty stares. I meet cute guy she’s talking about. Tall fellow, sweet face, and seemingly kind hearted. The tutor calls for a break, probably to smoke a cigarette and wallow about his miserable life, and the students all run out the door. The last ones out the door are bitch, tall fellow, and myself. The girl heads out the door first and I notice a band-aid on the upper backside of her thigh.
I ask her, “Why do you have a band-aid on your thigh?”
She snorts and replies, “I shave my legs, don't you?”
I cock my head sideways and say, “Yeah, but thankfully I don’t have a hairy ass.”
Tall fellow laughs.
She harrumphs in frustration and storms out.
V is for Victory.
Then I started to laugh.