The Nerd Herd

Moving was a normal thing for my family throughout my childhood. I only attended two high schools, but prior to that, I only spent two full grades at any school once. Fifth and Sixth grades at C. F. Tigard Elementary.

I don't remember many of my friends from grades prior to that. I can recall some names, and in some cases random features, nothing substantial. But my memories of my three friends from C.F. Tigard will always be vivid.

On the first day of fifth grade I walked out to morning recess in the grey mist of an early autumn rain, and I approached some girls from my class, just as I had been accustomed to doing at every new school. I was on the prowl for some friends, hoping that by week's end I wouldn't be eating lunch by myself.

I don't remember my opening remark, but I remember the awkward silence that reigned as the three girls glanced at each other in silent communication. Flustered and embarrassed, I desperately spouted out the first thing that came to mind, trying to stop the air from becoming steadily more uncomfortable.

"Look! There's a knot in my pants!"

Pausing for just a moment, let me describe my appearance on that day. I had a spiral perm, which my mother said I needed to give my frizzy hair some structured curl. My bangs were most likely curled into that early nineties tube shape; half curled down, the other half up and stiffened to death against the Pacific Northwest weather with Vidal Sassoon hairspray. I was wearing glasses that sat on my nose and covered half of my cheeks with their enormous, clear plastic frames. My coat was pink with lavender and blue geometric shapes, and my pants, which I was relying upon for my ice breaker, were Dodger Blue cotton, tapered at the ankle, and accented with a twist of fabric around the waist, which I had referred to as a knot. It was a floundering eleven-year-old's attempt at spontaneous humor, and I knew as soon as I had uttered that remark that I had won myself nothing but a label.

The girls that I was attempting to befriend were dressed in jeans with sweatshirts tied around their waists. They wore eyeliner and mascara, and had drawn on their hands little hearts and arrows. I was way out of my league.

The silence that overwhelmed me after my knotted pants comment was even more painful than the previous silence that I had tried to end. One of the girls put everyone out of their misery by saying, "Um, we'll be right back, okay?"

I nodded and smiled as I watched them walk away, trying to hide my shame. And then I stood there for the remainder of recess, just in case the girls really did intend to come back at some point.

They did not.

Gradually, I made some friends. Mara, Sarah and Renata. We were labeled "The Nerd Herd" by our classmates, but I didn't mind because I belonged somewhere. I had true friends to depend on and have fun with. I never had to eat lunch alone.

Mara had red hair and freckles. She was goofy and had doves in her apartment that would coo all morning whenever I spent the night at her apartment. Mara lived with just her mother, and while that was foreign to me, I felt comfortable at her house.

Renata was lively and always had ideas for fun. There were crucifixes at her house and statues of the Madonna. I went to church with her once, and that has been my only experience of Catholicism. Renata had dark hair and copper skin, a TV in her bedroom and a huge Barbie dollhouse. All four of us spent the night at her house once, determined to stay awake until dawn. I went home sick as a dog, and never stayed up all night again.

Sarah was our studious friend. Quiet and purposeful. She was intelligent, reserved, moved slowly, and was the listener. She wore a cardigan sweater nearly every day. I don't know if I ever saw her without one. Like me, she was automatically classified by her over-sized glasses. Unlike me, she never seemed to want to be the center of attention. Not even when we spent the night at her house and learned improvisation games from her older sisters. She would laugh with us and get involved, but never sought the spotlight.

The four of us spent those two years together, playing, crushing on boys, having sleepovers and even helping one of our number through a suicide in her family. They were my closest and dearest friends. The best I had ever had, and I loved them.

And then, after two years of fitting in, even if it was in "The Nerd Herd", my family moved again. And they were gone. Just like that.

Seventh grade found me in another new school, surrounded by kids who had been friends since kindergarten. I latched on to the first girl who spoke to me and later realized that she was not the kind of friend I wanted. I shifted to another group and did better there. But nothing was like it had been. There were no more sleepovers. I was never free to be exactly myself. When I was teased by the cool kids I no longer had the ability to let it roll off my back like I had before. I felt those pricks of insecurity chiseling away at my self esteem for the entire year.

Eighth grade was better, and ninth even more so. I was finally getting back to who I really was.

Those two years with Mara, Renata and Sarah taught me what friendship should be. It's frightening to know that my kids are approaching those same difficult years that I will always remember. My hope is that that same spirit of unconditional friendship will eventually find them, as it did me.