In Bloom

The Summer I Grew Fangs

August 3, 1993

I'm so over this summer. I don't know how much longer I can keep coming up with excuses to avoid leaving the house. I haven't been in the mood to party for weeks now. I've been feeling kind of down lately and I'm really not sure why.

Wait. That's a lie.

Sorry, I'm not sure why I lie, even to my own diary, but I do. But you're new and fresh and I feel like I want to make a good impression. I guess I just don't like being judged. Maybe I like looking good in other people's eyes, even if I want them to think I don't give a fuck. Though I usually do; give a fuck, that is.

And yes, I totally get that you aren't a person. Just pages to be filled. But sometimes, you're the only one I can really talk to. 

I bought you cause I needed a break from people. A real one. From everything. From all the bullshit drama that sneaks in with friendships. I mean, yeah, I have friends, two best friends actually, and I'm not worried about them. 

I'm talking about the kind of girls who pretend to be your friend and then stab you in the back when you're not looking. The ones who smile to your face, but will push you under a bus when it suits them. Or worse, hook up with your boyfriend.

Well, ex-boyfriend.

Thank God I never let that worthless loser anywhere near my intimate parts. I'm so glad I'm still a virgin. He's garbage. So is she. Nameless, pathetic trash, both of them. Probably out partying right now in some grimy basement while I sit here writing. Fuck them.

The whole mess went down right as school was ending in June. Then two horrid weeks of avoiding eye contact with practically the entire goddamn school because word travels fast when something huge like that goes down. Everyone knew. It was a nightmare.

I've been holed up here in my room avoiding sunlight ever since my last exam. I might be growing fangs at this point.

Okay, it's maybe not that bad. I do go out. I even let the sun touch my face some days. But I've mostly been sticking with Parker and Min. At least they will forever have my back. They actually give a shit that I'm hurting and are willing to give me the time I need in order to face everyone again. I don't know how many times I've had to talk them out of egging his house. Or hers. Or both. I'm still not ready to risk seeing them. I definitely don't want to run into them sucking face at some party. Ugh. 

Maybe when school starts again everything will go back to normal. Maybe I'll be over it and everyone else will have forgotten. 

Or maybe this is something I'm just going to have to deal with. Maybe I'll just dye my hair blue again. Or shave it off, Sinead style. See motherfuckers, you have no power over me!

Ha. Well, I'm not much of a people person, if you haven't already guessed. 

Actually, if anyone ever reads this after I'm dead or famous or abducted by aliens, I should probably introduce myself properly.

I'm Sadie. Sixteen years old. Future winner of absolutely nothing.

I live in a town that's too small to be interesting and too big to disappear in. I spend most of my time listening to music, writing terrible free verse poetry, and making questionable decisions with my hair. Right now it's a faded purple-gray disaster that makes my mother sigh every time she looks at me. 

But it's basically her fault, she won't give me money to go to a salon. She says she's not funding acts of rebellion. Rebellion? Really? She doesn't even know how lucky she is to have a daughter like me. I'm a fucking angel compared to some of the girls at my school. Like the backstabber, for instance. A perfect example of what not to be.

I talk big, but in real life I try to avoid conflict. Which is kind of ironic, considering.

Still, I'd rather express myself in other ways, like how I dress, or how I do my make-up. I'm into plaid, Doc Martens and black eyeliner. 

There. Introduction complete. If you're looking for someone cheerful and inspirational, you've opened the wrong diary.

Sorry for your luck. 

Ugh. Sometimes I wish I could disappear. Start over.  Like relocate into a different culture where I might find some sort of happiness. Maybe I could find a cool guy, you know, a sweet guy who would treat me right. Someone who wouldn't cheat or lie or act like some hormonal caveman.

All the guys at school seem lame now. Or they're friends with the asshole.

Lately, I've been thinking about Dylan. My first real boyfriend. We went out for a few months back in grade nine. He was so adorable and sweet. I'm sure he still is. I haven't seen him in forever. But I remember how happy he made me. We went to different schools and my stupid boy-crazed hormones kind of ruined everything.

Well, okay. He broke up with me first. He said he heard I was a player. Or he heard that I liked someone else. Which, fine, maybe I did. That someone being the asshole. But nothing had even happened between us yet. We were just friends back then. When Dylan finally realized this, I guess I was too hurt to take him back. He asked me out a bunch of times and wrote me sweet letters. But I turned him down. 

I thought being single would be better. That didn't last long.

Since then, it's been one failed attempt at a relationship after another. No wonder I'm so messed up about all of this.

It's kind of a miracle I'm not a full on lesbian.

But Dylan... he was different. He's the only guy I ever talked to on the phone with for hours, about absolutely nothing. He used to walk across town just to see me. Left little notes under my front door when I wasn't home. He was the first guy I ever French kissed.

I still remember it perfectly. We were down the street from my house, holding hands as I walked him part way home. His hair was dark brown, almost black tucked under his Chicago Bulls cap. He wore loose jeans with a white t-shirt. Blue eyes. Always smiling at me. 

He stopped, pulled me toward him, and for a second it looked like he was going to say something serious. Then he squinted and said, "Hey, what's that over there?" and nodded behind me.

I turned to look. Nothing there.

When I turned back—bam. His lips were on mine. It was sweet and awkward and perfect. I remember how soft our tongues moved together, like we were figuring it out as we went. I had been worried it would be gross or weird, but it wasn't. Not at all. It ended too soon, but we were both smiling and laughing and I felt like I was floating. He laughed and hugged me and told me how lucky he was to have found me that one day at the mall.

Now I get why he was jealous. I probably did break his heart a little. I don't want to make excuses, but it was hard, going to different schools and being pulled in different directions. I thought it just wasn't meant to be.

But he was the first boy I let get close. The first one I gave my heart to. Every crush or attempted relationship since then has just been one disappointment after another. And every time, I think of Dylan and wonder what would've happened if I had taken him back.

Maybe I should call him? His number is probably the same.

God. I just gave myself a mini panic attack thinking about it.

Last I heard, he had a girlfriend. Some tough chick who loves to start fights. I heard she broke one girl's nose and ripped another girl's hair out. So yeah. Maybe calling is out. Just another fantasy to distract me from this bleak reality.

I should try to get to sleep. No clue why I keep myself up so late. At least I can sleep in tomorrow. I'll probably just watch crappy movies and wait for Parker to call me and drag me to the mall.

Maybe I'll talk her into having a bonfire this weekend. We always have fun when fire's involved. Maybe it's time I toss this bitter chip off my shoulder and let it burn. Maybe I can rise from the ashes like a Phoenix and enjoy what's left of summer.

We'll see.

Later.