Skater Boy
(My students’ all-time requested tale!)
When I was in elementary school (and junior high… and part of high school…), I was painfully shy. I watched and listened intently without ever making a peep. And I felt every pain I observed in the depths of my soul. But was paralyzed to help or stop or speak. I attended a very small elementary school in a rural farming community where everyone knew each other. And their families. And all their business. So my classmates never really changed though we would occasionally get a new face for a year or two only for them to disappear without a trail of their migration.
Jamie (not his real name) floated into our classroom in 4th grade. I remember being so enamored with his presence – not a crush or an infatuation. He was just deliriously happy day in and day out for no apparent reason. I did not understand that, but I secretly wanted that stupid happy feeling that he wore proudly with his buck-tooth smile and his peppy step in worn-out hand-me-down shoes and grass-stained high water pants. Jamie was smart and dorky with no filter, and even the teacher had a slight eye roll when he blurted out a gleeful discovery or ten to no audience at all.
And he could SING. Our class lined up to go to the auditorium to observe talent try-outs for anyone who dared to take the stage before the entire class. The “pretty girl” in the class showed up with ballerina slippers and pirouetted plainly across the stage with no accompaniment. And we all clapped wildly for this simple display. Because she was pretty, and we were supposed to cheer for her. Another girl sang an a cappella version of a hit radio song of the month. I don’t really know if she sang well, but we all knew and liked the song. So we clapped and cheered on point. And then Jamie jumped up and announced he would perform. The boys always made fun of him and did not miss a beat to boo him before he even got up the steps. He pulled a really old hymnal from under his arm, turned to a page, and began belting out a familiar hymn I knew from our church hymnals. And the hairs stood up on my neck. He had perfect pitch but an absolutely heavenly caramel, throaty voice that permeated every inch of that musty auditorium. No one stirred. I held back a lump and a tear. It was undoubtedly the most perfect sound I’d ever heard. And Jamie knew it. When he finished bellowing out the last note flawlessly, he smiled so big that his eyeballs disappeared in the creases of his lids.
Then the reaction. I KNEW this would be the moment. Jamie’s one and only time to be a star; everyone would love and respect him now! But the class rang out in laughter. The boys doubled over in fake agony from laughing so heartily. And the teacher just stood there in silent condonation of the mockery. And Jamie burst into tears. He ran and hid in the janitor’s closet. I could still hear him sobbing. And no one went to him. It was a while after we went back to class and took our seats before Jamie ventured back to his desk. The walk of shame.
I hated everyone at that moment. Especially myself. I never laughed or taunted him even once. But I did nothing to save him. And he deserved to be saved. He was someone’s incredible kid. And we let him feel like complete garbage.
It got worse. Jamie was a really strong kickball player. That attribute is a pretty big deal for a 4th grade boy. Yet he was never picked by the team captains. He was always the last boy assigned to a team by default for being last each Monday when we chose teams. The boys booed no matter how well he kicked, caught, or scored. They also started plotting about beating him up on the last day of school. It wasn’t even Christmas yet, and I had literal knots in my stomach thinking about June. How could I stop them from attacking Jamie? Why were these boys so savage?
And then there was Christmas. Each year, our teachers would assemble a Christmas tree in the classroom. We would make or bring in ornaments to decorate the tree. Preparing for the Christmas party was HUGE! We would each bring in snacks, desserts, and SODA! We checked the list to make sure someone was definitely bringing in 2-liter bottles of Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper. And we could bring in presents for our friends.
I learned early on that I did not want to be the kid who received no presents. My mom would not let me spend very much on presents, but I made a list of my top girls to bestow with gifts. The night before the classroom Christmas party, my mom took me to the discount store in town. I decided that I would spend the allotted money on coveted scratch-and-sniff stickers for my girlfriends. I spent what seemed like hours spinning the revolving rack finding the PERFECT sticker packets for each girl. My mom finally pulled the plug and told me we needed to check out. As we stood in line, IT happened. I was FLOODED with feelings. I became numb and nauseous and held back tears until a deluge of emotions rolled down my face. It was Jamie. Jamie was going to walk into that classroom all jacked up for this big event. And Jamie would not get a SINGLE present. And no one would care. And they would laugh. And he would cry as hard as he did when he left the stage. My mom grabbed me as I turned into a pile of hot mess and could not figure out what was wrong. She thought I was sick, and I could not communicate with her because I was UGLY crying and gasping for air.
Mom pulled me out of the line, and we stood in the cosmetics section while I regained enough breath to swear her to secrecy. I told her that I could not bear to go to school and watch Jamie cry when he was the only kid in the class left out of the gift exchange. I had never mentioned Jamie to her because the mere thought of him made me feel like I was the one targeting him. And I told Mom over and over that I DO NOT LIKE HIM! I was devastated to think that anyone would mistake my compassion for a crush.
As the store’s intercom announced it’s impending closure, my mom rushed me over to a rack of doo-dads left for parents checking out to have arguments with impatient kids over why they don’t need THAT. She told me to pick something for Jamie and not to worry because no one would ever find out. She promised. And then I saw it. SILLY PUTTY. That red egg of goop would save Jamie’s life. She grabbed the package from me and hurried back to the register.
When we got home, I wrapped and tagged the stickers for my girls. My mom purposely chose a distinctly different wrapping for the red egg. She used a different type of tag as well to write “To: JAMIE” in block capital letters with no “from”.
The next morning, my mom took me to school REALLY early before she went to work as I always caught the bus after she left. I was literally the first person at school after the janitor who had just unlocked the hall doors. I quietly scurried into the school and to my teacher’s classroom. She was not there, but the door was wide open. I ran to the tree and pulled the secret package from my coat pocket. It was the only thing under the tree. Too obvious. So I gathered the folds in the tree skirt so that the creases disguised the package somewhat. Then I got the heck out of there! I ran outside and waited under the carpool awning until the buses arrived. I filed in with the bus riders and walked to class as if I, too, had just arrived.
Party time. I was so nervous all morning. Still anxious that Jamie would be picked on. But also mortified that someone would accuse me of being his secret gift-giver. I tried to calm myself because there was NO WAY anyone could connect me to that deed. I’m pretty sure I had never even spoken to Jamie. Before the soda was poured and the snacks were passed out, the gift runner was picked. It was my cousin. He was tasked with crawling under the tree, yelling out the recipients’ names, and hurling himself across the room to deliver each and every package. I could not even focus on my sticker girls. I stared at my shoes hoping to keep a poker face when Michael finally grabbed that one package. And then the words broke through my heart like a fire drill as Michael announced, “JAMIE! SOMEONE GOT A GIFT FOR JAMIE?!” And Jamie showed equal shock and disbelief. He even took it with hesitation like it might stink or even explode. EVERYONE stopped to watch him open that gift. I had not prepared for him to have a literal audience. When he unwrapped the gift, his face lit up with relief and joy! He held that red egg over his head and proclaimed, “SILLY PUTTY!!!!” The boys dashed over to see him press the putty over the sole of his shoe, his desktop, anything that would leave an imprint. They were as fascinated as Jamie was. As the snacks were doled out, the kids in the room yelled out to be the next one Jamie allowed to hold and press his silly putty onto some ridged surface. Jamie was the center of attention. I heard one kid ask who gave him the gift, and Jamie said he did not know. Shewww. That was pretty much the best classroom Christmas ever. Particularly, because I dodged a bullet, and no one had a clue I snuck that gift under the tree that morning. Michael even mentioned later that afternoon at Grandma’s house how lucky Jamie was to get a gift like that. And I could tell, I was not on even his radar. My secret was hermetically sealed. My mom would never betray me and my meltdown, and there was literally no one on earth with whom I would ever share about that little red egg.
That was 4th grade. And June came. And I cried most June afternoons after school as the boys joked about the beatdown they were prepared to give Jamie on the last day of school. Did they forget about the Silly Putty? Jamie was in the spotlight because of that impressionable goo for only a brief moment in time before the taunting returned in January. I was out of ideas for how to stop the June mob. But the last day of school was uneventful. We finished our program in the auditorium and loaded the buses as usual. Those sinister boys got on the bus just like always. No sweat. No busted knuckles. I checked. And as the bus pulled out of the bus loop beside the school, I saw Jamie walking to his house with the usual unexplained pep in his step, ready for summer break just like any other kid.
So Jamie was not in 5th grade when we returned in the fall. He was never mentioned or missed. He just disappeared. And that was the end. And no one would ever find out about the silly putty. I just hoped that wherever he was, he was safe and happy and protected from the social evils he had endured in our 4th grade class.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
In my senior year of high school, I was accepted into the college I wanted to attend and earned a scholarship that made my attendance a reality. I could not wait for a new adventure and a fresh start no matter how scary it was going to be to set out on my own. I even had a come-to-Jesus with my family; I would no longer be called “Missy” as I had been known since I was a toddler. Henceforth, I will be “Melissa” and only respond to my birth name. This name was going to be my new beginning. Bearing this name would slough away all my shyness, childishness, immaturity, and complete dorkiness. New world – new me. I was going to be all the things I had never been before. I would be… COOL. It’s all in the name, obviously.
So “Melissa” set off for college. I was only an hour away, but I was WORLDS away from the only life I had known. I tried so hard to dress cool, talk cool, and act cool. And there was NOTHING cool about me at all. Luckily, I met several people who were way cooler than me and ignored the fact that I was completely out of my element. Tonya was one of these cool people. She was from Florida and said lots of cool things. She looked and dressed like a model, and she immediately knew everyone on campus. She was already dating an uppperclassman soccer star by the first day of class. That first week of school when I was still trying to find the routes to my classes on time without having a breakdown, Tonya asked me if I am going to “the party” tonight. First, I had never been to a real party in my life, and how would I know about a party in the second place? I casually said I wasn’t sure. We stood on the front steps of our dorm, and she told me how much fun it would be as I deciphered in my head how people could possibly party on a school night when Friday morning classes were mandatory. She even said she was pretty sure “Jay” would be there, and he is always the life of any party. How did she know all this? We had been at school for almost a week. And who is Jay? I had literally spoken to one boy since moving into the dorm, and that boy just wanted to borrow the copious notes I took in the morning class as he nodded off and didn’t pay attention.
As if on cue, a couple boys rode by our dorm on skateboards as Tonya whipped her head around and yelled, “JAY!” She giggled as he ditched his friend and did an Ollie up the curb to where we stood. He beamed at her, and they spoke of the party coming up before he took off on the skateboard again. That smile was infectious. And familiar.
Hours later in the dining hall, I noticed an obnoxiously loud group of cool boys herded at a table in a group of 15-20. They were having way too much fun for feasting on subpar cafeteria food. And then I caught a glimpse of that beaming smile again from earlier in the day. As the owner of the smile stood up to leave, I was riveted and awkwardly could not turn away. I KNOW THAT FACE! That is SILLY PUTTY JAMIE FROM 4th GRADE!!! I was flushed and overcome. Jamie was cool and popular and gorgeous!!!! Where had he been? And what had happened to transform him? It was a Christmas miracle! I wanted to scream, but I still could not speak of the putty and the 4th grade tales! And I definitely could not speak to Jamie! He had truly ended up with what he deserved after all. I kept the secret and could not wipe the smile off my face! He would never remember me – the silent kid who never spoke to him or for him. But I was elated that his life had taken such an overwhelming turn!
Pathetically, I made it a point to look out and listen for tales of “Jay”. His fate made me happy. And maybe gave me a little hope. I mean, Melissa has to have a better outcome than the path started by Missy. I reveled in Jamie’s fame.
Maybe a week later, I had returned from class early as my professor did not show up. Everyone seemed to be in their classes. So I made a bold and crazy move that Missy would never have done. I sat down on the front steps of the dorm and read over my lecture notes for the next class. Baby steps. After a few minutes, I heard the telltale sounds of a skateboard coming down the pavement. I did not look up because then I would be awkward if I made eye contact with a stranger. I was moving mountains just to be sitting outside alone in public like a normal college student. The wheels stopped. Right in front of me. It was “Jay”. I mean, Jamie. Oh, God. He stared down at me with that stupid smile stretching from ear to ear. I slowly lifted my head from my notebook as I could feel him boring holes into my face. I stared stupefied. He doesn’t know me. And I’ll never tell. And then he spoke.
“Thanks for the Silly Putty, Missy.” And he was off. And I never spoke to him. Then or ever. What? How?
That is the end. I think. Jamie did not stay at the university. He disappeared again. I know he is somewhere being awesome around people who respect and adore him. As he deserves.