I remember waking up most mornings in 8th grade just wishing that I could find a way out of going to school. There are fond memories of faking sick and begging my mom to let me go somewhere else-to attend another school. I remember once visiting this school for trouble teens here in Kentucky-I begged my mom to let me go there-it seemed like heaven on earth at the time. It wasn't Frankfort, and it wasn't the school I was in at the time.
The locker room during my 8th grade year was a place of pure torment. I wasn't the most athletically inclined kid growing up. My dad used to want me to play football and even took me to tryouts one time-I backed out of trying it, and he was disappointed. I opted instead for the limelight of the stage and music. Funny how someone who was so involved in country music (my dad) would be so disappointed that I chose that route instead of football.
One particular day in gym class we were supposed to run laps. I was a fat kid. Running was never easy for me. (I'm proud to say now-I regularly run races, and minis around the region). I always got passed by the other kids who would say things like hurry up fatty, or there's the fag. On this particular day-we were supposed to run laps at the end of class-it took me a little bit longer than some, and so-when I got back to the locker room to change my clothes had been thrown in the garbage can and all kinds of garbage put on top of them. The other guys in the locker room just stood there and laughed as I dug my stuff out of the can. I would always go change in one of the restroom stalls in the locker room, so I would at least be safe from people trying to do stuff to me.
It seemed as though it would never end. The guys in gym class used to taunt me all the time about trying to look at them and those sorts of things-hell, at that point I didn't even know what I was feeling on the inside-let alone trying to stare at them.
The 8th grade year would find that I made great strides academically (except in math :-). I was in honors classes and was being well positioned for a successful go at high school. All the while, enduring some of the worst name calling I can remember. There were constant threats made to me, that I was going to be beat up or something of the sort. I became very good at dodging those sorts of things, and making my way home after school so as not to get caught alone. I lived the entirety of my 8th grade year in fear of being hurt.
One day as I walked home from school through the wooded path that led to my grandparents house, I saw somebody back in the bushes off the trail. I immediately started to panic for fear of the what I knew was coming. I walked faster and faster so I could get to my grandparents place unharmed. WHAT?!!!
I remember trying not to look over in that direction-but when I did, I was shocked, and blown away by what I saw. Two guys, two of my classmates, two of the biggest bullies of the entire 8th grade year, locked in an embrace and kissing! Surely, I had seen things. I wanted to do a double take, but they realized as soon as I was upon them what had happened. They'd been "found out". To this day I think that was a worse mistake than if I'd been "jumped" by someone.
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