Childhood Trauma.

I don't think I've told anyone this before. But I posted it on my Tumblr blog a few days ago. I guess I am finally ready to share it. This is just one of the stories of my childhood that have made me into the bitter, cynical person I am today.

We were out at lunch time, on the last week of school, playing in
the trees on the edge of the school property, me and Cass. We were best
friends. Some of the other kids were playing Red Rover, which was one
of our favorite games, but we were otherwise engaged. One of the girls
from our class had found a caterpillar the day before. We were so in
awe of this that we decided to search for our own caterpillar.

Cass and I searched high and low through those trees. They spanned
the whole length of the property, from one end of the lot to the other.
We did not grow bored, and we did not tire of this daunting task. We
were determined to each find a caterpillar that we could bring to class
and brag about, as the other girl had done the day before. We were kept
cool from the shade of the trees as we ran around, trying to catch
sight of just one caterpillar.

And then, finally! Finally, I had found a caterpillar! I called
Cassandra over, and we gushed excitedly about our discovery. She had
never found a caterpillar before. And neither had I. But when the bell
rang, and Cassandra still had not found a caterpillar of her very own,
I had a small argument with myself within the confines of my mind. I
needed an idea to cheer her up. After all, she was my best friend, and
I had been taught right, to be kind; To share.

I told Cassandra that I would share my caterpillar with her. She
could take it home that day, then bring it back the next day, so I
could take it home. We would switch. She beamed at this idea, grateful
to have such a wonderful friend. If I had not been so awed by the fact
that I had found a caterpillar all by myself, I would have let her keep
him. But I was proud of my caterpillar. I wanted to show my new friend
to my mom.

My mom would be excited to learn that I had made a friend so close
to the end of the year. Of course, she would only be excited because I
would come home with a large grin on my face. I was going to go home
and tell her all about my new caterpillar. But he was a secret. She
wouldn’t get to see him until the day after. Cassandra got to take him
home today.

So the bell signalled the end of classes, and we all rushed out,
backpacks stuffed haphazardly with homework, binders, and the latest in
walkman technology. I waved goodbye to Cassandra, and little Cody, as
we had decided to name him. I pet Cody, told him I would see him
tomorrow, and he could meet my mom. I could tell he was excited.

When I got to school the next day, I met Cassandra in the morning,
as we waited for the doors to open. I asked about Cody. She told me she
had left him at home. She apologized profusely. I simply smiled, told
her it was no big deal. After all, it wasn’t. Everyone made mistakes.
What kind of friend would I be if I did not forgive her?

The next day, however, Cassandra had forgotten Cody again. She told
me she was sorry, but this time my smile was reluctant and my
acceptance of her apology was rather forced. We had made an agreement.
We were supposed to take turns with Cody! And we had both promised to
be there from the moment he made his cocoon to the moment he became a
butterfly. Once Cody became a butterfly, we would release him. Our
young selves were naive, and Cassandra was a little selfish.

I had offered to share my caterpillar with her! My caterpillar! And
here she was, pretending to have forgotten to bring him. I knew
Cassandra well, and I knew when she was lying. She did not want me to
have Cody. She wanted to keep him all to herself. My sister had spoken
of her backstabbing friends before, but I had never believed my friends
would do any of those things to me. Oh, had I been wrong.

The last day of school came quickly, and Cassandra and I were still
friends. My fourth-grade self wanted to believe that third-grade
Cassandra would be there for me. I wanted to believe that she would
surprise me with Cody on the last day of school. I had faith in my
friend. I knew she would not let me down.

But on the last day of school, Cassandra told me that Cody had built
a cocoon and he would probably become a butterfly. She would probably
go home from school, and he would be a pretty butterfly. I asked to
come over, to see this transformation. But Cassandra was grounded. She
was not allowed to have friends over that day. So she said goodbye and
headed off in the direction of home.

The next year, when I returned to that school, Cassandra and I were no longer friends.

Partial side-note: We eventually ended up going to the same high school, my senior year. We passed each other in the halls a lot, but we ignored each other every time.