You Can't Break Her

Chapter eleven | September

Age 11

September 2001
First day of sixth grade
Bayhollow, Ontario

School was a place that I never enjoyed, the strict rules and other students made me nervous. Regardless of counselling I received or the support I was given from my foster family and social worker, I was not interested in being caged and lectured by strangers.

I was getting ready to leave the house, nervously packing my bag with new and unused school supplies at the bottom of the steps to the entrance. Dedra walked down the stairs to join me and kneeled down in front of me, she grabbed my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "Today is going to be great. Don't let the other kids rile you up."

I looked to the tiled floor of the entryway for a second but I returned my eyes to hers when she adjusted her position. It was a modified reaction, I had never feared Dedra or her husband Martin, I had adjusted and learned to be wary and to keep my eyes moving. When my eyes rested for too long I became over encumbered by memories and experiences, it was a sensory overload that threw me right back to my previous life.

She squeezed my shoulders in her hands and waited for my eyes to focus on her. "You have power over how you react. You've got this Ama."

I had a joyous reunion with my neighbour since her family had gone away on vacation for the last two weeks of the summer. We shared new items that we got, pencils, pens, highlighters and folders. We caught up and got on our bus in the usual spot at the end of our street.

The students were separated into lines by teacher, her and I weren't in the same line. I was not centred, I was panicking and without any hope that this year held any potential.

We filed into the school as our teachers instructed and sat down at any desk we wanted. I sat next to girl that I had known since I arrived in second grade but had never interacted with. Her and I faced opposite directions and I could hear her telling her friend across the isle how much she didn't like her seat.

Recess started and I found my neighbour and we hung out. "The person sitting next to me doesn't want to sit with me." We we're sitting on the ground beneath a circle of pine trees in the middle of the school yard.

She tossed a pine cone at me. "What makes you think that?" She picked blades of grass from next to her and ripped them into little bits.

I picked up a stick and drew stick people in the dirt. "I heard her tell her friend, Renee, in the next row. They've been best friends since I started going to this school. It's not like I wanted to sit with her either, she looks mean." The bell rang and my neighbour wished me luck.

We went to our classes and my teacher split us into groups to start an assignment. Renee and her friend were in the same group as me and the gathering turned sour very quickly.

Our teacher Mr C, a tall brunette man with a sweater vest and khakis, pulled Renee and myself out into the hall. "What seems to be the problem girls?"

We argued and shouted over each other until he was able to calm us down.

"I'm going to be changing the seating plan, don't worry about this little fight." He got us to go back into the classroom and we stayed a safe distance from one another for the remainder of the day.
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The next day was fine until our teacher announced the seat changes, placing Renee and myself next to each other. We complained to the teacher that this wasn't going to work for us but he insisted that it would have to.

It took a few days before we finally started talking and passing notes. I brought in a ladybug bobble toy that was contained in a shell and we decided that was where we would keep our notes safe. I would write one before we left for the day and she would replace it the next morning with her own.

On weekends I started going to her house for sleepovers in the bunk bed she shared with her sister, Tracy, and when she was allowed she would come to my place for the night.

One night at her house we laid down in the bunk bed and listened to the new Eminem CD Tracy had brought home. The song Cleaning Out My Closet came on and we were blown away, the album had just been released and Without Me was still taking the world by storm.

"This song is amazing," I said as it pulled up emotions that I had worked so hard to bury.

The hook played, "I'm sorry, Momma, I never meant to hurt you / I never meant to make you cry / But tonight I'm cleanin' out my closet." And my eyes filled with tears because I never meant to make her cry. His words pulled at my heartstrings and caused goosebumps to cover every inch of skin on my body. I was thankful for the dark room, Renee didn't need to see me cry and I didn't want her too.

We both knew that song would do well because as we laid in bed starring at the top of the bed, the truth was clear in every lyric. The realism in the song brought us both to a silent tranquility that tore us apart inside but calmed our souls to know others felt like we did.

"We have to listen to that song on repeat," I stated.

She got started getting up and I moved to a seated position at the edge of the bed. "On it."

We leapt out of bed and rushed to the stereo as the song ended, without a light we mashed the buttons and the lid popped open.

We somehow skipped through the CD for a half hour without finding it. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of the beginning but it would be September before we heard that song again and it was on the radio.

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Most nights that we spent at my place were spent in the basement playing mash. There was a waterbed that held a regular mattress and the stairs hid a cubbyhole beneath them that we would pretend was our club house.

Renee and I played music managers,  restaurant and often times just sat around doing nothing. The television in the basement came in handy for movie nights and killing time between ideas.

Renee and I, sat together in class for the whole year and spent the summer glued to one another. My parents considered her another daughter and she was my sister. It was a friendship that pushed me to be more than I was and a closeness that could never be duplicated.