I remember being friends with your sister, first.
She stood out but blended it at the same time.
Even though we called her Hannah Montana, she was just like the rest of them.
Loud, flamboyant, "ghetto", wearing pants that looked like they were painted on her.
The swish in her hips was forced, the fury in her fist weren't so much.
Naturally, she became friends with me to get closer to my brother.
Always telling me how fine he was and asking if he liked white girls.
I only laughed because, I didn't know.
See, during sixth grade my brother didn't claim me, didn't want me to talk to his friends.
I remember hating you so much.
You were always so mean to me and I never understood why.
Pushing me into lockers, saying mean things to me.
Maybe it was because I was a little sixth grader and you were in seventh.
Because you thought you had authority because you were older.
But you weren't.
We were the same age. I had to start school a little later because of my birth month.
No one could tell because I was a tiny thing. Still am.
Your sister had green eyes but I couldn't for the life of me tell you what colors your were.
Always hidden by this mischievous smile, whenever I'd stick my tongue out at you or call you a name after you did something to me.
That crooked smile.
You were undoubtly the troublemaker.
Always getting kicked out of class and wrote up.
Every time I saw you in trouble, I'd just shake my head and keep it moving.
You always had that frown when an adult tried to correct you.
Never listened.
I also remember being ugly.
Short hair.
Dark skin.
You know things that boys would never look for in a girl.
I was only 13 and I wasn't supposed to be dating.
But, the boys in middle school weren't the same boys from elementary.
There was this boy, the first boy that I'd dated in middle school.
I was excited and I felt like a big girl.
The only thing I can recall about it though was Valentines Day.
I honestly was never one to celebrate.
But I was in the shower and I heard his ringtone.
He always called. Or left a voicemail.
But when I got out of the shower he left a text.
He dumped me.
He had another girlfriend.
I was just the other girl.
I wasn't hurt though. Didn't even care.
We were only together for a week.
The normal time span for a middle school fling.
No one cared.
We were just 6th graders.
I don't remember anything else about you when I was in sixth grade.
