On my first day of school, my mom escorted me to class. I think she made a habit of this because a.) I am an only child and she has nothing else to live for, and b.) I probably would have cried without her there. I wasn't much of an independent spirit back then...
We stood in line outside Mrs. Stewart's room, squinting in the glaring 9 AM sun. I squinted a lot in my youth, mostly because I thought sunglasses were for bitches. I was wearing some sort of denim dress ensemble, and my hair had recently been BUTCHERED by the very woman who stood by my side, assuring me I'd be okay at my new school- even though I had no friends whatsoever. I knew she was wrong, though. How could I make friends with terrible hair?!?
It was then that I saw her. About 4'9", blonde hair with bangs I would have killed for... wearing Umbro shorts. You know, those one soccer shorts with the shiny squares? I didn't play soccer, but I always wanted a pair of those shorts... because they were sporty and popular, two things I desperately wanted to be.
Maci, or Megan, back in those days, was way too cool for me. In truth I wanted to be her friend, but I masqueraded this desire rather well by acting outwardly hateful. I started a club (The Rainbow Star Club), and didn't invite her to join. I made her friend, Jennifer, cry. *I'm still not really sure how this transpired, and she ended up changing schools so I never really got to apologize. I'm also about 64% sure I am not the reason for the transfer... And even though I was horrible... it's not like she was inviting me to sleepovers, or wanting to be besties... or being kind, at all.
It seems she didn't like me, either. Says I was 'bossy'. Pshaw.
She sucked up to the teacher, something that I was VERY good at and took VERY seriously. I'm sure she did this to spite me. I caught her (along with John), washing ink residue off stamps one recess. I furiously beat on the window, stuck outside in the sunshine, wanting to be inside kissing ass... They laughed at me from the comfort of Mrs. Stewart's good graces.
Maci hated me so much, in fact, she tried to sabotage the rest of my tenure at Ridge View.
During the last week of school, we were instructed to request which teacher we preferred for the next year. For some reason, at this point in time, Maci and I were desk-mates. "Who do you want to be your teacher?" I asked.
"Mr. Burr. My brother had him, and he is SO mean," she sneered. I don't know if she actually sneered, but, let's just go with it. "I don't even want to be in that class, my parents are making me. I want to be in Mrs. Martin's. She makes snow cones every week."
"Oh..." I said, nodding. I did like snow cones... "He's really mean, though?"
"Yeah. Who are you requesting?"
I thought for a moment. A year full of snow cones was tempting. "Mr. Burr," I said smugly. Her face fell. I was going to make her life hell if it was the last thing I did.
By 4th grade, Maci and I had become friends. This was less because we had a shared liking for each other and more because we didn't know any of the other girls in class. And what brings people together better than mutual hatred? Nothing, that's what. We sat by each other during specials, hung out at recess, and soon we were eating lunch at each others desks, having sleepovers every weekend and being cruel to others whenever the chance arose.
We bonded over the Spice Girls, even though she always hogged Baby Spice. I was forced to make up my own 'Spice', because Caitlin was Posh, Nikki was Sporty, Bonnie was the other Baby (even though we all know there's only one!)... I didn't want to be Scary, and we all know how much I loathe Gingers. So I was relegated to something reminiscent of Anonymous Spice. Lame. We had an intense love for Hanson, and while our obsession was not quite to Bieber-fever levels, we cut up our fair share of Tiger Beats. She liked Zac, I liked Taylor- and because of them and their stylish ways we decided it would be cool to wear like, 14 necklaces. Stacked on top of one another. Tangling together so ferociously that we had to cut them off... Maci and I also collected Beanie Babies, and by collected I mean we hoarded them. Hundreds of them. We stood outside Hallmark and waited for them. We played with them at recess, we brought them to sleepovers and we built homes for them in extra desks posted around Mr. Burr's classroom... What a fucking waste of money.
And, also, I think Maci liked the fact that I was an only child and had pools and tent trailers at my disposal. In fifth grade I moved onto her street, and we were inseparable. Her family took me to Sun River, and I only cried hysterically because of homesickness for like, the first four nights. We rode bikes, and rollerbladed, scootered, and hopped the fence to Ridge View to play on the twirly bars. She even went and got my mom when my shorts got caught on the chain link and I was stuck, dangling four feet off the ground...
We made 'the goop of summer' which was a mixture of lotions, spices, grass, dirt, and more... We wrote with it on the street in front of my house, and the message "GOOP OF SUMMER" was stained on the asphalt for about four months. My mother was less than thrilled.
She introduced me to Jevon (something I'll never forgive her for), and together we mourned the loss of the tree farm behind her house. We always had plans to build a totally awesome fort, but they cut the farm down in favor of old people houses before we had the chance.
We'd walk to and from middle school every day and though it was only a mile, the way we bitched about it you'd think our parents were making us jog to Spokane and back. Sometimes we'd play our instruments on the way home, something I'm sure the neighbors appreciated greatly.
Freshman year of high school, we had the humbling experience of riding the school bus and being complete losers. Maci was an experienced rider, having been on the route in kindergarten. She tells a story of this one time when the bus driver forgot to let her off. She stared silently out the window, bangs taking up half her head, her mother running frantically after her. Poor little Deep Throat... Oh, that was her nickname when she was a small child. Evidently young Maci was a bit of a baritone.
Once we got our licenses we spent the majority of our time driving around aimlessly, usually ending up at the mall, AKA Mecca for all 'cool' teens. We weren't cool, but we hung around the food court enough that we may have, kind of convinced some people that we were. There were six of us girls, and this posed a problem since all of our cars only comfortably sat five. Naturally, this meant someone had to be in the trunk. On one particular occasion, Maci was delegated to the trunkal region. We stopped at the Bank of America in the mall parking lot, needing to use the ATM, when we noticed a car full of boys at the nearest stop light. These weren't just any boys- they were cute, foreign ones that went to our school, one of whom Maci was harboring an all-consuming, fanatical love for.
"Megan, we're here!" Bonnie yelled, unlatching the trunk. Maci came busting out, hands in the air- scaring the shit out of the boys looking our way. One actually screamed. And then they laughed at us. Or should I say, her... because I wasn't really doing anything other than getting money with my parent's debit. Like any 16 year old girl would have been, Maci was mortified. And like any 24 year old girl, I find it quite funny, now. She slinked back, lying down on the floor of the trunk. It was a '93 Corolla, and not the roomiest of hideouts, but she stayed there until we coaxed her out in the Barnes and Noble parking lot.
Maci is an interesting girl. Her nose flares when she laughs. She spends countless hours picking at her hair. She doesn't really listen when you're talking to her, and she likes to interrupt anyone at anytime. She cries when she sits in a chair and it breaks, but this is mostly because she had a terrible day and it was snowing and Jevon ruined everything (as he always does).
Oh, and some of you might be wondering why we call her Maci. It's simple really, as Maci is her dogs name, and Maci (the girl) has an unnatural obsession with Maci (the dog). With dogs in general. She almost never interrupts them.
My girl Maci was my roommate in college, and is my roommate now. It's fun because sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night and digs for diamonds. Or rearranges her entire room. Or searches her bed for spiders. She's usually not aware of this, but Scott keeps me up-to-date with her latest midnight shenanigans, that is when he's not 'accidentally' sleeping in my room.
Maci waters my plants. I mention this because I didn't actually know she did this until very recently. I thought I had a magical fern that was desert-bred and needed water only but once a biennium. Now I know the truth... she's been watering it in secret since the day I brought it home. Maci's always taking care of things when I'm too manic to help myself. She has extra keys for when I lose mine. She knows the non-emergency number and she calls it when people try to break in through my bedroom window and murder me... though I guess I'm a little offended she considered this a 'non-emergency'...
It is not Maci's birthday today. Maci shares her birthday with Hitler and celebrated it a little more than a month ago. She didn't celebrate for Hitler, mind you, just herself. In fact, today is nothing special in the realm of Maci's world... But I wanted to write about her, none-the-less. Maci the girl is moving on Monday, to a land far, far away... and I am devastated. Who will I drink with every night? Who will hum along to the Sex and the City theme song with me? Who will buy garbage bags, because I sure as hell don't know where they're located in the myriad of aisles in Target.
I'll miss you Maci the girl. Neibs. Meegs. Moe Soup. Mace of Base. Mathhiiiii.
Grrbye, Mathi. You'll do wonderfully, and before you know it you'll be my roomie once again! I love you, and I'll miss you. And I'll make sure to remember to lock the doors. And I won't leave lights on when I'm not in the apt. And I really hope I don't get murdered before you get back...
Lurve ganats and hoors.
"Well that was a stupid choice." - Maci
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