Remembering

My first distinct memory. I'm five and it's my first day at school.
It's cold and I'm wearing a large red coat. I love wearing it because
it has a hood. And I tell everyone my name is Little Red Riding
Hood.

My second distinct memory. About two hours into my first day at school,
I'm standing in the hallway. And it's cold. My mother, who works at the
school, is walking down the hallway and she sees me. She asks me why
I'm not in my class, and I tell her I don't know.

Apparently, according to Mrs. Martin, my first grade teacher, I talked
too much. I'm quiet now. Much more reserved. Hardly talk at all. And I
blame Mrs. Martin for it.

The rest of my childhood is a blur. I don't seem to remember things the
way everyone else does. Distinct snapshots of certain days are clear in
my mind. In between those pictures - nothing.

Snapshot one. I'm nine. Karen and I are in her bedroom. She's holding
her brother's Swiss knife. The tip of the blade is cold on my skin as
she cuts first into my finger and then hers. We watch the blood seep
out from under our skin and press our hands together. "Blood sisters,"
Karen whispers.

And I had thought we'd be friends forever - forever didn't seem that
long when you were nine. It turned out that forever ended when we
started high school. Karen outgrew me. She healed before I did - the
scar on her finger fading faster than mine.

Snapshot two. I'm eleven. I'm at school. It's break time but I'm in the
classroom. Colin is there. We're in trouble. Colin looks angry. I've
been crying. I know I'm going to be in more trouble when I get home.
Mrs. Davies left the classroom for ten minutes during English class.
Colin threatened to cut my hair off with Mrs. Davies' scissors. I
didn't believe he would - so I dared him to. We ran around the
classroom for five minutes, and suddenly, Colin lunged, scissors waving
in his hand, opening and closing and for a split second I thought of an
alligator. And he cut a chunk of my hair off.

Snapshot three. I'm thirteen. Not a child anymore. I'm in high school
now. All grown up. And Karen's stopped talking to me. I see her in the
hallway. She walks past me as if we don't know each other. I turn
around after she has walked past. She's with her new friends. I see her
turn back. She looks at me apologetically. And I wonder if she really
is sorry. And then the look changes. She looks at me with pity. And I
feel small. One of her new friends turns to me, and Karen's look
changes for the last time. Fading from pity into disgust. She turns
back. And never looks at me again.

Snapshot four. I'm seventeen. It's my last year in high school. I've
almost found myself - but not quite. I'm standing in the school parking
lot - and I think that I've found myself in Timothy. But he didn't
agree. It's raining. And I think to myself - my life is a clich?. He's
telling me we should just be friends. Reaches out and squeezes my
shoulder. And I'm thinking - I've lost myself again.