Sixth Grade Lunch Table

I didn't actually want to be like them.

I realized this at my sixth grade lunch table. I was friends with the stereotypical mean girls. The ones who would laugh when someone liked anime or didn't have name brand shoes.

I'm pretty sure they didn't even like me. I was chubby, not good at sports, and talked too loud. Every time they would have a sleepover the only one without an invitation was me. They would never include me in their activities. One time whenever we were hanging out we decided to do a fashion show. I was so excited to pretend to walk down a runway, but they told me I had to be a judge. "Models don't have your body type, and you'll probably stretch out our clothes anyways."

I went home and cried after that. My mom begged me to tell her what was wrong, but I never did.

After that I tried even harder to make them like me. I would eat less to try to be skinny, pretend to like sports, and never ever talk above a whisper. I started to slowly lose myself among all the expectations. Even though I was a shell of the girl I used to be, I was happy. Well, I thought I was happy.

That all changed on a chilly, crisp spring morning in sixth grade. We were all sat down for lunch. They did their usual spiel, making fun of me for how many goldfish I was eating and picking on me for my curly hair. It had made me upset, but that didn't matter. It was okay that they were making fun of me, but then a seventh grader walked by.

I was too naive to understand at the time, but those scars on his arms weren't from a cat. Apparently everyone but me knew this, because as soon as he walked by our table, of course one of the girls had to say something.

"Hey emo!" She called from a few feet away, "Wrist check!"

The guy looked stunned. He shook his head slowly before trying to walk away. The leader of our group, Mia, just couldn't have that. She stood up, pushing her way around our lunch table.

"I said wrist check." She grabbed on to his sleeve, trying to pull it up.

The boy put up a fight, but eventually Mia won. His sleeve was rolled up, and the scars were on display for everyone.

Tears started pouring down his face right away. He yanked his wrist from Mia's grasp, running to the nearest bathroom.

Mia smiled.

She actually smiled at this.

I didn't know what to do at that moment, but that was my tipping point. I didn't want to be like them. I never wanted to say another hurtful thing to someone just to get a laugh. I never wanted to make fun of somebody for something they can't control.

A flip switched in my mind. It was like the world became clearer. The purpose of everything suddenly switched, and I finally had true vision.

The next day it was safe to say I was eating lunch with somebody else.