(Interested in starting with Kindergarten? Go here).
Over the summer, we move from Midland, Texas, to Victor, New York. I bury myself in Baby-Sitters Club books to avoid the loneliness of starting over with new friends.
I start studying French, the most romantic of all the languages. I start playing flute, the most dainty of all the instruments.
I quit Girl Scouts after an unsuccessful camping trip. I’m the only girl willing to get into a canoe. I realize that these New York girls are not as gritty as my Texan troop. Besides, Girl Scouts is starting to seem dorky and I’ll be damned if the other kids at school see me selling cookies.
I keep swimming. Our Junior High has a team and I’m starting to gain notoriety for my prowess at breaststroke.
Every month, we have dances in the gym. I attend each hoping that this time I will dance with a boy to “Kiss from a Rose”. Instead, I spend the duration of most slow songs in the bathroom.
Once Winter comes, I join the ski club. Our art teacher, the coordinator for ski club, thinks the combination of skis and my Texan twang is hilarious. She inspires me with stories of her skiing adventures; she’s jumped out of helicopters to ski where there aren’t even trails! I’m enthralled. With her help, I strap on a pair of skis and scoot over to a beginner class. One day, I will go where there aren’t even trails, too.
I audition for the school musical, Annie Get Your Gun. My hair is still wet from swim practice. I’m so far off the music that the accompanist stops playing in the middle of “Anything You Can Do” and thanks me for coming to auditions. I don’t make the cast.
I join the track team and run the 800 meters because it’s an unpopular distance so I usually place. Later, I learn that the 1500M is even less popular. I’m guaranteed a ribbon if I just finish. I also try shot put. I never get a ribbon in shot put.