Middle school

Vanna and I in 8th grade at a school dance...

I was painfully awkward in middle school. I was chubby and unpopular, clumsily making the transition from reckless tomboy to calculating girl. Things were bad at home. My mom moved into a town home and started abusing prescription narcotics more and more (this was apparently a habit she had before I was born, but I didn't notice it until around this age). My dad had found a new apartment near Columbine High School. He went to sign the lease on April 20, 1999, but the road was completely shut down by police. He found out why later. We moved in a week or 2 later, and since he had just gained primary custody, I stayed mostly with him.

In 6th grade I wrote a persuasive paper on how nurses should get paid more. I interviewed my grandma's favorite nurse at the nursing home, took surveys of other students and everything. I have to admit, it was damn good. My first journalistic masterpiece.

Other than that, I started doing poorly in school. In elementary school I earned straight As (except for gym). My grades started nose-diving. I still excelled at tests, but had trouble completing homework and class busy work.

One day at home, I was on the computer and my dad was in the other room watching TV. All of a sudden I heard him make a very loud groan, as if he were in great pain. I ran into the room to see his face contorted and red... eyes staring at nothing... mouth foaming.... fists clenched. I sat by his side, yelled his name and shook him but he didn't respond. My first thought was heart attack. I quickly crossed that off, and by putting together pieces of stories I'd heard, including the ones my dad had told me about his sister having seizures as a child, I realized he had a seizure. By the time the paramedics arrived he'd fallen into a snoring, sleepy postictal state. I rode in the front seat of the ambulance, and my mom picked me up from the hospital a few hours later. The ER couldn't find a reason for his seizures, and even weeks later after several appointments with a neurologist, no cause could be found, and he was diagnosed with idiopathic epilepsy.

To this day, if my dad groans in a certain way, my heart will start racing and I'll run to find him. He's had several more seizures since the first, but they're few and far between.

In my 7th grade social studies class I sat next to a girl named Savanna. She was my polar opposite in many ways. She was tall and as skinny as a rail, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Within a couple of weeks we had a weird relationship in which she shared her snacks with me during class and I let her use the brush and mirror I kept in my locker. Soon, we were best friends. I shortened her name to Vanna and the name has stuck to this day.

We had sleepovers often and spent a long lazy summer at the side of the public pool. She was extremely innocent and sheltered, so I ended up being very protective of her. She had several boyfriends, and when one of them cheated on her, I kicked his ass in front of all of his friends. Twice.

Eventually she started dating her neighbor Chris, who was 3 years older than her. They dated for nearly 2 years, and he treated me like a little sister.

My dad and I were on a long drive home from a dinner at a family friend's house late at night once when I had a horrible stomachache and nausea. Eventually, he said "I'm going to hell," and pulled out a joint. He told me I could smoke some if I wanted because it would help me feel better. I had recently started suspecting that he smoked, so I wasn't completely shocked. So I smoked pot for the first time. I just got really tired.

My mom started dating one of her high school sweethearts who was a park ranger living in California at the time. His name was Dicky, and I met him when he came to visit. I liked him. They got married soon after that. It shocked me since I had only met him once, but I didn't really care.

In 8th grade some of our friends started smoking pot, and Vanna and I followed suit. For a long time we didn't spend a dime on the habit, but got by on the generosity of our friends. She broke up with Chris, and then we started doing other bad things. She shoplifted a lot and pierced her own ears, tongue, and belly button. I smoked a lot of pot and got suspended 3 times in middle school total - once per year - for being rebellious to teachers. I started cutting myself and I didn't know why.

At a 4th of July festival we met a boy named Ranse. Vanna started dating him soon after, and he was really, really weird. I liked him enough, but he said the strangest things. One day we went on a double date to the mall with his cousin Jared. I was 14 and Jared was 17; it was the summer after my 8th grade year and I'd soon be starting high school. He was gorgeous. I thought he was way out of my league so when he started showing me attention I got so excited, even if he was weirder than Ranse. After a few hours of knowing him I could tell he was pretty aggressive. He bit my lip until it bled a little and was very grabby.

Later that same night the four of us got stoned and went to a local cemetary to walk around. Vanna and Ranse disappeared, so it was just Jared and I all alone. We started making out and I let him touch me down there... but when he started taking his pants off I felt like things were going way too far. I told him no but he persisted. I told him no one more time and had a little struggle with him, but gave up because I didn't want someone to call the cops who would find us with drugs trespassing on private property out past curfew. And so I lost my virginity in a graveyard. Vanna and I walked back to my house and I told her about it and cried but she didn't understand.

The summer became a blur of parties, boys, and bad behavior. Vanna started dating a guy named Steve, and eventually she lost her virginity to him in the stairwell of my apartment building. Steve had a best friend named Tyler, who worked in a restaurant less than a block away from my house. We all smoked a lot of pot together. Tyler, who was 20, had really good weed and not much else going for him. Either way, I started meeting him after he'd get off work. We'd hang out in his car, smoke pot and then have sex. In all honesty, it was an unspoken contract of trade: weed for sex. At this point I started hating myself, but ironically I made no effort to change my behavior.

I was still cutting myself constantly, mostly on my legs, and started raiding my dad's medicine cabinet for Xanax. I got addicted to that real fast.