Damaged
Kids can be cruel. You never realize it before you start going to school. Your parents shelter you the best they can, only introducing you to the parents of other kids whom they don't mind you playing with. It's the age of innocence. The age where everything is alright in the world.
That first day of school is scary. Your parents do everything they can to prepare you for it, telling you it will be wonderful, that you'll have fun and make lots of great new friends. They don't tell you about the assholes waiting to point out even the smallest flaws. They don't tell you about the bullies. Because if they did, would you ever let them drop you off in front of that imposing building without kicking and screaming and causing a scene.
I started kindergarten like every other child, nervous but excited. I didn't cry when my parents dropped me off. I genuinely liked my teacher. Everyone seemed nice . . . until recess.
“Bug eyes,” I heard a kid say. I was minding my own business, swinging on the swings. I hadn't made any friends yet, but I wasn't too worried about it. It was the first day, after all. I certainly hadn't expected to make any enemies.
“Hey, bug eyes,” the voice came again, this time accompanied by a sharp blow to the back of my head.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I brought the swing to a halt, turning around to see this chubby red headed boy with freckles glowering at me a few feet away. He wasn't alone either. On either side of him was another boy, looking at me like I was no better than trash.
“Why'd you hit me?” I asked, rubbing the back of my head as I fought back the urge to go into a fit of sobbing.
“Because you're ugly. What was your name? Tara, was it? An ugly name for an ugly girl. Tara the Terror.”
I ran away crying and spent the rest of recess in the bathroom. You'd think that someone would have come to ask me what was wrong, but all the other kids just gave me awkward glances as they went about their business. It wasn't until a teacher entered that I got consoled. I told her that I had fallen off the swing, and I had the bump on the back of my head to prove it. The asshole had thrown a rock at me, but I wasn't about to tell the teacher that. I was afraid, and naivety led me to believe that if I didn't talk about it, the problem would just go away.
It didn't. The boy, whose name I found out was Daniel Delp, decided to make a game out of stalking and terrorizing me every chance he got. At the bus stop, he'd get kids to gather around and call me Tara the Terror until I broke down into tears. On the playground, he'd chase me around and throw rocks at me. It seemed like he was friends with half the school, and he turned all the other kids against me. I was alone, scared, hating school. Every day became a struggle to get me out of bed. I cried when my Mom dragged me out to the bus stop in the mornings.
Finally, it got so bad that she had a meeting with the principal and Daniel's parents. That stopped the harassment for a little while, from Daniel at least. His cronies picked up where he left off, making my life a living hell. As soon as his parents took him off restrictions, he was back at it again, joining the rest in their mocking of my horrible name and big green eyes.
I'm not sure if a five-year-old ever had lower self-esteem. Days and weeks and months of being told I was ugly and hideous and horrible made me cry so much that my mother worried my face would be tear stained forever. I begged my parents to move, but they told me that this was just a part of getting initiated into a new school. It didn't make sense to me, but I chose to trust them.
Making friends was impossible with Daniel Delp on my back day after day. If I did happen to find someone to play with, Daniel would start making fun of them too, and that would quickly end my play session. No one wanted to be the target of his nastiness, and I couldn't blame them.
Instead of being something I looked forward to, I dreaded recess like the plague. It was a time to be feared, a time when Daniel and his gang would find me and torture me. It was a time spent playing a seemingly never-ending game of hide-and-seek, and not the fun kind either. I tried staying in the bathroom throughout recess, but the teachers took notice and forced me out. I tried hanging around the teachers during recess, but that only gave Daniel and his friends something else to tease me about. I asked if I could stay in the classroom during recess, and that worked for a while, but then my teacher became concerned that I was developing anti-social behavior, so she sent me back out into the gladiator pit again.
Living in fear never becomes a routine that you can settle into. You just push through it, hoping and praying that things will get better. If it wasn't for one fateful day, I might have had to endure Daniel's torment for the entire school year, maybe even for the rest of my adolescence.
The day started like any other. The clock ticked down to recess, and I watched it with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. While all the other kids were thinking about what games they were going to play, I pondered where I would hide. Where could I go that would take Daniel the longest to find me? The previous day, I hid out around the jungle gym. There had been a lot of kids playing on it, and I managed to blend in for a while. It took almost ten minutes before one of Daniel's friends pointed me out. It would be the first place they looked for me today.
When the bell rang for recess, I made a mad dash for the tunnels. There are only so many hiding spots on a playground, and I knew they wouldn't give me refuge for long, but it was better than being out in the open.
Breathlessly, I crawled inside, jumping when I noticed that the tunnel I had chosen was already occupied. Thankfully, it wasn't an enemy. The boy who was curled up at the other end of the tunnel barely paid me any mind. He was reading a book, lost in his own world.
“Can I come in here?” I asked timidly, praying he wouldn't refuse me entry. By that time, I was sure Daniel was out looking for me.
The boy grunted, and I settled down beside him. Anxiety was already getting the better of me. I knew it was only a matter of time before Daniel found me, a matter of time before my nightmare began. I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting back tears. You'd think I would have gotten used to being called ugly, to having rocks thrown at me and my hair pulled, to being pushed down and mocked. But every single day opened a new wound that I worried would scar me forever. I mewled silently as I waited for today's dose of torture, trying not to be too loud, lest the boy beside me suddenly decide to kick me out for crying.
Apparently, I wasn't being quiet enough. After a while, he sighed and set his book down before asking me, “What's wrong?”
“Daniel Delp is going to come bully me,” I whimpered.
“Why?”
“Because he says I have big eyes.”
The boy looked at me thoughtfully. “You do have big eyes.”
His comment only made me sink further into myself. Tears streamed down my face and stung my eyes. Why did everyone hate me so much?
“They're very pretty,” he added.
“Huh?” I looked over at him.
“You have pretty eyes. They're like emeralds. Very unusual.”
His vocabulary and demeanor confused me. He was so serious and strange. Why wasn't he out playing with the other kids?
I took a moment to look the boy over. He was short, with hair so blonde that it was almost white. His eyes were the brightest blue I had ever seen, like the waters of the Caribbean. They were amplified by a pair of thick glasses. This boy probably got picked on too, I decided.
I was about to thank him when Daniel Delp popped his ugly head in through my side of the tunnel. Panic filled me as I realized my sanctuary was over. It was time for my daily dose of hell to begin.
“Look what I found, boys. It's Tara the Terror. Tara the Terror, Bug-Eyed Tara.” He pointed at me for his friends to see and then laughed. “Get out of that tunnel, so we can chase you,” he told me.
“No.” I wrapped my arms around myself, trembling in fear.
“Then we'll throw rocks at you until you get out of the tunnel.” He reached down and picked up a fistful of rocks. His friends followed suit, preparing to force me out of the tunnel with stone projectiles.
“Yo,” the boy beside me said, leaning over to look at Daniel.
“What do you want, Four Eyes?” Daniel scoffed.
“You're Daniel Delp, right?”
“Yeah. So? What of it?”
“I'm Darren Jones. Your father works for my father.”
“Who cares?” his voice rose in irritation.
“If I tell my father to fire your father, he will. Leave this girl alone.”
If Daniel was scared, it didn't show. “You can't do that.”
“Try me. If your father gets fired over this, you'll have more than a week of being grounded to look forward to. Try the entire year, maybe even your whole life. If you go away now, I won't have to tell my father anything.”
Daniel huffed. “You're lucky your family owns half the town.” He turned his attention to me, “Tomorrow, Terror.” And then, by some miracle, he took his gang and left.
I was in utter shock and disbelief of what had just happened. Was I actually free of ridicule for one day? Who was this kid sitting beside me?
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You're welcome,” he replied.
“I'm Tara.”
“I know.”
For the rest of recess, I sat quietly beside Darren while he continued to read his book. It felt good to know I was safe, if only for a little while.
That night, I told my parents about Darren and what had happened with Daniel Delp. They tried to explain to me that his parents were important people in our town. His father owned most of the restaurants and shops, and his mother ran a real estate agency. That didn't matter to me though. All I knew was that Darren was my savior, and I needed to stick close to him if I wanted to survive public school.
The next day at recess, I found him in the tunnels again. Quietly, I slipped in beside him. When Daniel came looked for me, he could only glower at me from a distance. Darren was my shield.
Of course, it didn't take him long to realize I was following him. The one day he wasn't in the tunnels, I tracked him down sitting against the gate at the far end of the playground. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I sat beside him, curling my knees up to my chest as I watched the other children play. Darren never played, and I didn't understand why, but I didn't question it. As long as I was safe by his side, I didn't care what we were doing.
“You're following me,” he commented, barely glancing up from his book.
“Yes,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Why?”
“Because when I'm with you, Daniel doesn't pick on me.”
He sighed but said nothing more.
It took us a while to develop anything even remotely resembling a friendship. At the beginning of our relationship, I followed him like a shadow. He was never cruel to me, and he never turned me away, but he didn't seem particularly interested in me either.
Eventually, it bloomed into something more. We were together all the time, and my parents finally asked me if I wanted to invite him over for dinner. When he arrived, my mom fell in love. She couldn't get over how polite and well-mannered he was. It made me feel a bit embarrassed for the way I acted at home. He was all "Yes ma'am”s and “No ma'am”s, “Please”s and “Thank you”s. I looked like a little Neanderthal by comparison.
Then it was my turn to go to his place. My eyes bugged out as we pulled up in front of his gargantuan house. It was hard to believe that only three people lived there, but that was the truth of it. Darren had everything a kid could want. Every new video game console that came out, his own computer, a big trampoline in his backyard, a basketball hoop, and an in-ground pool. Despite all that though, he seemed most interested in his books. One of the walls in his bedroom was nothing but a giant book shelf. His other walls were decorated with posters of authors, composers, and scientists. The kid was a brain. How he didn't get bullied was beyond me.
After the initial introductions between our parents, we found ourselves staying at each other's houses quite frequently on the weekends. It seemed like every weekend I was either at his house, or he was at my house. His father was a stern man, but his mother was sweet and fun. She was always grateful for my company, telling me she wished she could have a daughter, but after having Darren, she had gotten ovarian cancer and could no longer have children. His parents talked about adopting, but his father didn't seem too interested in the idea.
I loved Darren's mom. She spoiled me rotten when I was there. We'd go out shopping, and she'd buy clothes for me that my parents could never afford, dressing me up like a doll. Darren seemed to approve, but I could tell it made my parents uncomfortable when I came home from his house with new things.
Education was at the forefront of Darren's parents' list of priorities for him, and for me too when I came over after school some days. They'd send us up to his room and make us finish our homework before we could do anything else. His dad was more of a stickler on it than his mom, though he assured me that she was only being lenient with him because I was around.
Our homes were so different; it was like being in two separate worlds. When I'd go to Darren's house, it was all about studying and superficial things. When we'd go to my house, it was all about having fun and family time. I thought we balanced each other out well. Darren helped me to understand my schoolwork better, and I helped him to relax and just be a kid.
By the end of the school year, we were inseparable. Best friends to the end. We did everything together, from studying to going on vacation to sleeping in the same bed when we stayed at each other's houses. I was so used to us being together that I got upset when his father wanted to take him on a boys-only fishing trip without me.
“I don't understand why I can't go with you,” I complained, sitting on his bed and staring at my feet.
“Because you're not a boy,” he told me.
“I still don't understand. What's so different between boys and girls?”
He thought for a minute. “Well, I have a penis, and you don't.”
“What's a penis?” I gave him a quizzical look.
He scratched the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “You know, a penis.”
“No. I don't know. What's a penis?”
“It's what I pee out of.”
“Oh, well, I have a penis too.”
“No, you don't.” He shook his head.
“Yes, I do,” I insisted.
Darren sighed. “Do I have to show you?”
“Show me what?”
“My penis.”
“Why would you have to show me? I have one too.”
“No, you don't.”
“Yes, I do.” I scowled at him.
He stood up and hesitantly began unbuttoning his pants. “I'll show you, but you have to show me yours too.”
“What are you doing?” I eyed him nervously.
“I'm going to show you my penis.”
“Why? I have one too.”
“Just look,” he groaned, pulling his pants and underwear open.
Not thinking much of it, I stood and looking into his pants, expecting to see the same plain surface that was my downstairs. When I saw the short fat pink worm dangling there, I gasped and quickly looked away.
“Ew,” I cringed before taking another quick peak and saying, “Ew,” again. “What is that?”
“It's my penis,” he replied, his voice dull from offense.
“Ew. Let me see it again.”
“No.” He quickly buttoned his pants.
“That was gross.”
“That's my body you're talking about.”
“Well, it is.” I shrugged, thinking about how odd it had been.
“Show me yours now.”
“I don't have anything to show you.” I gave him a confused look.
“I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours. That's how this works.”
“But I don't have . . . one of those.”
“I know. I want to see anyway,” he sounded as casual as if he was asking to see one of my coloring books.
Suddenly, I felt embarrassed. Was I deformed? Was I supposed to have one of those ugly things too? I wasn't sure anymore.
“I don't wanna,” I pouted.
“Tara, that's not very fair.” He crossed his arms over his chest, giving me a disapproving look.
“Mine isn't like yours.”
“Of course it's not. You're a girl. Boys have penises. Girls don't.”
That did make me feel oddly better. If there was anyone who would tell me I didn't look right down there, it was Darren. Maybe I should show him, just for my own peace of mind.
“Fine,” I sighed, pulling open my shorts and underwear with deliberate jerking motions. I couldn't even stand to look at him as he gazed down into my pants.
After a few seconds of Darren silently staring, I let go of my waistband, listening to it snap shut. When I finally looked at him, he had a thoughtful expression.
“Well?” I asked. “Are you happy now?”
“It's not what I thought it would look like.”
“What do you mean?” My mind filled with horrors. Maybe I really was deformed after all.
“There's nothing there.”
“Of course there's nothing there. I thought you said you knew that.”
“My mom's is hairy.”
“How would you know?”
“Because she showered with me when I was little.”
Now I definitely thought I was deformed. It depressed me, and while I probably should have asked my mother about it, I didn't. I kept on thinking that my body was deformed until sex education class in middle school.
***
Darren and I shared a lot of our firsts together. He was the first boy I ever saw naked, and he handled our first kiss with the same scientific curiosity as everything else.
We were ten at the time, and his parents had finally decided that it wasn't such a good idea for us to be sleeping in the same bed together anymore. They made Darren fix himself a pallet on the floor, and I slept on his bed, staring down at him to talk until the late hours of the night.
That particular night it was storming. I had always been afraid of thunder, and God was being especially tumultuous. In the middle of the night, I found myself crawling down onto Darren's pallet so that he could comfort me while the weather raged on.
We had got onto a conversation about two kids who had been caught kissing in the hall and were sent to the principal's office. At that point, I was kind of getting interested in boys, but Darren still thought girls had cooties.
“Have you ever kissed a boy before?” he asked me.
“No. Have you?”
“I don't kiss boys.” He smirked, being a smart ass.
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I wonder what it's like.”
“I hear it's supposed to be magical,” I replied dreamily, thinking of all the Disney movies I had watched.
“Magical enough to go to the principal's office for?” He quirked a brow.
“I guess so. I don't know.” I shrugged.
“I'd like to try it sometime.”
“You. Kissing.” I wrapped a hand over my mouth to hold in the giggle.
“Adults do it. I mean, we're going to be adults someday. We have to try it sometime.”
“Do you think kissing makes you an adult?”
“I don't know. I think it's part of it.”
“I want to be an adult.”
“Me too. Do you want to try kissing and see if it makes us feel any more adult?”
I thought for a moment. In all the movies that I'd seen, kisses were reserved for your one true love. I loved Darren, but not like that. Still, the thought of kissing was exciting, and I didn't know if I could wait until I got older. Having a boy as a best friend gave me an opportunity to get ahead of the game, and I did like trying new things.
“Sure,” I said finally, feeling suddenly nervous.
“Alright.”
A bolt of lightening streaked across the sky, illuminating the room. The thundering that followed made me press myself into Darren's chest. He grinned at me, gently rubbing my back and soothing my fears.
“I hate that,” I grumbled.
“I know.” He paused for a moment, “So, um, how do we go about doing this?”
“I think you're supposed to kiss me. The boy always kisses the girl.”
“Um, alright.” He stared at me awkwardly for a moment.
“What?”
“Aren't you supposed to close your eyes or something? That's how they do it in the movies.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess so. I mean, I think you're right.”
“So, close your eyes.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. My heart was drumming in my chest, partly from fear of the storm but also from anticipation. Was this the right thing to do? Best friends aren't supposed to kiss each other. But I was too curious to stop it.
“Pucker your lips,” Darren told me, and I did.
The moment was far from magical and too quick to calculate. For a fraction of a second, I felt Darren's lips graze mine, as gentle as a summer breeze, and then he was gone. When I opened my eyes, part of me wondered if I had imagined it. Wasn't I supposed to feel different?
“How was it?” he asked, giving me a look as if he was processing his own feelings.
“A bit disappointing,” I admitted, trying not to frown.
“Yeah. I thought it would be different too.”
“Do you feel any older?”
“I think so. Maybe a little,” he replied thoughtfully.
“I'm not sure if I feel any different.”
“Maybe we should try again.”
“No. I don't think so.” I shook my head, thinking that it probably hadn't worked because he wasn't my one true love.
“Oh, alright,” his voice sounded different, but I couldn't quite pick up the emotion. Maybe he was hurt that I didn't want to do it again. I couldn't understand why he would be. Neither one of us felt anything from the kiss. There was no point in doing it again.
***
Everything I learned about sex came from Darren. While my parents sheltered me from the world as much as possible, his parents did their best to educate him. When he was eleven, they gave him 'the talk', which he passed on to me. The whole idea of sex seemed silly to me at the time. You put what in where and a baby comes out nine months later. Why would anyone want to do that? It sounded horribly uncomfortable.
Darren furthered my education by letting me watch porn with him in his room. While his parents had put an adult filter on his computer, he easily found a way around it. The guy was too smart for his own good.
The first time I watched porn with him, I remember thinking about how weird it was for two people to do something like that. We were both twelve at the time, and while our bodies were changing, we didn't have a full understanding of what that meant. Still, the act of doing something forbidden was exciting, and I strangely never felt awkward around Darren, no matter what we did.
When we turned thirteen, Darren's mom stopped letting us sleep in the same room together. My parents put a stop to that long ago. That didn't keep us from winding up in bed together though. It didn't matter whose house we were at or which room I was sleeping in, every night after midnight, Darren would come crawl in bed beside me. He'd wrap his arms around me, and we'd fall asleep cuddled up together. To anyone else, it might have seemed inappropriate, but for us, it was strictly platonic, something that we always did—always had done since we were kids.
Darren would set the alarm on his phone and make sure he was up and back in his room before our parents woke up. It was probably more of a hassle than it was worth, but Darren didn't mind. He said it would feel strange being under the same roof as me and not waking up beside me. I felt the same way.
In fact, we continued to sleep in the same bed together until I got my first boyfriend when I was fifteen. I felt bad telling Darren he couldn't sleep with me anymore, but it just didn't feel right dating another boy and still having Darren in my bed. It would feel like I was cheating, and I wasn't about to start my love life out on the wrong foot.