(pictured- me and the bus stop squad looking savage AF, 2000)
Ali R. was probably my least favorite person, ever. And she was in my class for years. She was super bossy and really mean and just a terrible, terrible person.
I remember where her hatred for me all started: I was outside at recess, minding my own business, sitting on the outskirts of the blacktop trying to move a stick with my mind. Ali R. came over, towered over me with a pinched, judge-y face and hands on her hips.
“What are you doing?” she asked. I told her. “Weirdo.”
Ok, I thought, she had a point there. I continued to practice telekinesis.
But then every day after that this chick was on my case about something or other. Like pointing out everything I was doing wrong in class, calling me a loser at lunch, or rolling her eyes whenever I dared to speak. I was getting tired of it and her stupid beet face. Oh, did I mention her face was perpetually the color of a beet, and her red hair totally clashed?? It’s an important detail.
Once during class, I had to pee (as you often do), so I went to the girls room down the hall. To my delight, friends from other second grade classes are in there too, making faces at themselves in the mirror and wetting their hair before putting their thick headbands back on. I do my business, wash my hands, and decide to impress them with my ninja skills.
“Watch this!” I said, as I cranked out the paper towels as far as I could, and with one swift slice of my arm, severed the amazing 2 million foot paper towel. That was right where beet face Ali R. walks in, arms crossed and mouth pushed to the side.
“That is so disappointing,” she said before finding a stall to go poop in (probably).
I just remember standing there in disbelief. Disappointing?? Who the heck did she think she was? I dried my hands on the absurdly long paper towel, shrugged to my friends, and walked back to class.
I took Ali R’s crap for weeks before complaining about her to my older sister. Brianna was a bit of a bully herself, so I thought there was no better person to ask. We sat on the floor of our living room, probably watching some Disney movie with a Tombstone pizza while she gave me the advice of a lifetime. She told me to say something to Ali R. that was so scandalous that I just laughed- I could never have said something that mean!
A few days later at recess, Ali R. was at it again. My friends and I were playing restaurant. We stood under the playscape (jungle-gym? playset? I never know what to call it) at a little window, cooking up anything you could think of with our special wood chip concoction. Just as Eduardo was about to give me Matilda’s order of an extra large lobster, Ali R. and her posse show up at the window.
“What are you doing?” she said, the same way she did when she interrupted my magic practice.
“We’re playing restaurant. Want something?” I asked, hoping she’d ask for a knuckle sandwich.
“You are all losers. This game is for babies. You’re babies.”
All my friends stopped cooking to look at Ali R. They’re feelings were hurt. And so were mine. I couldn’t take it anymore! Then I remembered Brianna’s words and they came bubbling to my lips.
“Ali…” I began. Everyone looked to me. “Your face. Looks like. A cow’s. BUTT!”
My friends gasped. Ali R’s posse gasped. My friends laughed. Ali R’s posse did not. They followed her as she ran away crying, hands over her face.
It was the best day of my life.