Confessions of a Private School Mean Girl: Part Two

I got a lot of good feedback on the previous Confessions blog post so here I am again, partly to give the people what they want and partly because I have no ideas lined up for new posts. So without further ado, more unbelievable stories about private school antics.

(And, if you didn't read the previous part to this now-series, you should go do that.)

---

I started at my private school when I was eleven years old, so they put me in the youngest year of secondary- year seven, which is essentially grade six. Z, my best friend, was thirteen- the eldest of our group so by default, the unofficial leader and the most knowledgeable in unknown and mature topics.

There was one day that we were sitting outside at our usual spot during first recess, and the seven of us were all seated around our table eating and chatting with each other. I was on the corner, finishing some English notes, so I had no part in the following conversation but I did have the misfortune to hear it. One of the girls, who was my age, asked Z (and here I'm replacing the word with a synonym because my father reads my blog sometimes) what a "climax" was. Z was delighted to explain in detail what it was exactly, so after a little laugh she launched into an explanation with various sub-topics following. I remember visibly cringing as I listened, and hiding behind my book when the head of our year strolled past us. The next day, I heard from a friend that my group had received a warning from the head of year seven as well as the head of secondary that we were obligated to "keep our topics PG-13". It was embarrassing for all of us, but rest assured our conversations were still questionable.

Being only the second asian girl in the entire secondary population, I was often pointed out by people. From what I heard I was the topic of many debates concerning the 'prettiest girl in year seven', true to eleven-year-old nature. This made me self conscious, but I never told any of my friends because they were all quite pretty and confident, so I always kept silent on topics of that ilk until the day I was told that a boy who I will call Y had a crush on me. I was excited because I'd spent the last few months staring at him over the top of my textbook in half of my classes. He was cute, with freckles and orange-tinged brown hair, and loud in a typical-twelve-year-old-boy kind of way, but he was always funny and nice to me when we talked. Anyway, when my friend A came and told me Y had told a friend that he had a crush on me and wanted to ask me out, I wasn't the first person she told. In hushed whispers, people came running to warn me about a girl who had been pining for Y, and seemed to be going insane because of it. His name was written all over her books, and rumours floated around about how she had "blacked out and tried to strangle a girl in the pool during phys ed". I ended up in front of her during geography with my friends as backup, watching her write Y's name in loopy letter all over her notes. I felt the need to point out that she couldn't possibly love him if she didn't even know how to spell his name correctly. I went on to tell her in a very territorial manner, to back off, Y was mine- he liked me, no one else. She was seen walking out of the school psychologist's office later that week, and I haven't stopped feeling bad about it since.

I remember the time that I was in science sitting next to Z when our teacher instructed us to stack our desks on top of each other so that we'd have more space for the experiment. I was in the process of lifting my desk onto Z's when my friend's ex boyfriend (who I'm calling Y) reached past me and said he'd "get that for me". I smiled at him as thanks since we were already on good terms by then when this girl I absolutely hated, M, gasped loudly and said "Oh my god. Y touched her chest." Heads turned around me and I could feel my face burning as I looked around at my classmates. I was humiliated, but I forced myself to laugh and ask M where exactly her eyes were. I sat in embarrassment through the entire lesson, and by the end of the day people were coming up to me and asking if it was true. Thankfully, Y never mentioned it afterwards and neither did I (at least until now).

---

So that was only three stories, but I will have more posted sometime this week- if you made it this far then thanks for the read, it's much appreciated! I'll try to continue the Confessions series for the next few weeks, I have no shortage of spicy anecdotes from my private school days.

Much love!

- Charis