A small reunion gathering with 8 friends from grade school to high school proved to be full of revelations, which triggered much reflection and musing later.
The School Bully was brought to the fore of our animated reminiscences.
I was the new girl, I came into the scene at Grade 3, when alliances and enemies were already made, formed and more or less sealed for life. Yes, that’s the way with girls. They decide early, with their innate sense for social relationships and instinct for sizing up the people they wish to form alliances with. And the School Bully was, by then, the social outcast, one abhorred and at the same time feared.
I was sickly, always in pain and battling Behcet’s, and an undiagnosed autistic girl, which made everything all the more terrifying and confusing.
Add to the above, the vast difference in my social and economic background from the prevalent one in the new school – I was ripe for the picking, for any lurking School Bully.
Her name was Sharon. She was the one who mocked me the loudest, said the cruelest things, and then before I knew what was happening to me, she decided to become my ‘Best Friend’. What followed was 27 years of an almost exclusive friendship, and the other girls who demonstrated some interest in me soon dropped away like dead flies. I never knew why, until now, nor did I care much, being the typical Aspie girl just trying to survive school.
Now, almost 4 decades later, I meet the other girls again. These are a select few who have obviously been interested in me from the beginning, because I do remember some of them with fondness, despite never getting close.
And then, I hear more accounts of our childhood school life, and light slowly dawns. They all asked about Sharon. They all knew (in more ways than I did) about her friendship with me. Of course, they all wondered aloud what happened between us – there was an acrimonious ‘breakup’ almost 10 years ago now and we are no longer in contact, nor do I ever wish to be. Ever the socially aware women, now that they’ve established that Sharon and I are no longer Best Friends Forever, they begin to tell me things that I never knew. Things about her, and about me, from as far back as Grade 3.
Sharon was the School Bully. She had been bullying, sometimes very viciously, other children since Grade 1, before I came along. I was not surprised, since she did continue to bully others throughout our school life. What I didn’t know was that she had deliberately put the others off trying to get close to me, she disallowed any other alliance apart from hers, and that was why the others dropped away. Throughout our 27 year long friendship, Sharon also constantly expressed revulsion for all our school mates. So, I never kept in contact with any of them, until Sharon exited my life. At the gathering, they all told me that I was the Odd Kid. I knew that too, but what I never knew was how much the others were interested in me. Apparently, my multiple quirky talents was a big draw. I was reminded of a series of comic books that I created – stories and drawings – and sold to the girls in parts, each one ending with a cliff hanger so they would buy the next installment. I donated all the money to the SPCA. They told me about sharing seats in the bus on the way to swimming classes, about buying and eating snacks afterwards along the route back to school from the pool. They told me about how I would be scintillating company one moment, and suddenly withdrawn and cold the next moment. (I still am that way, still the diva and star of the show, but I’ve learned to handle the great contrast better.)
I am glad I went to the gathering. I discovered things I never knew, positive things about myself through the eyes of others. The irony is that these are people I never took time to get to know or appreciate, because a) it didn’t matter much to me, my social quota was already maxed out by Sharon’s presence, and b) Sharon prevented any other closer relationship from forming between myself and another girl. Now, at last, I appreciate these women. And yes, we have all mellowed too. Many have teenage children, the single ones their successful careers. And again, I am the Odd Kid, going off on a scholarship to pursue my Ph.D at this age, and doing weird stuff (in their eyes, weird but fascinating).
What struck me was how much regard they had and still have for me, and now in our eclectically evolved, assorted circumstances, they even look at me with some envy. I never knew this. And I was quite touched. What irony, the one girl who occupied more than half my life, was the one who didn’t really appreciate me for who I am, had little respect for my right to exist as an individual. I then realised how this showed my Asperger’s in bright glaring light – the lack of social awareness was so obvious. My entire Grade School and High School years went by without my understanding or being aware of 90% of the social features around me. Naive? Yes, most definitely. I had no idea how to choose a friend, and I suppose I was lucky to be stuck for those years with a Bully with a Heart. Yes, she was genuinely fond of me, I guess, but that will be another story, another analysis, for another post.
I lived much of my social life in a hazy mist. Is that good or bad? Funny enough, I am happy that way. I have no wish to know things that I am not interested in. I am lucky to have more than enough friends than I can handle – both close and loyal, as well as those just bobbing along the surface. So, the mist is good for me. 
