Saturday, February 21, 2004
Competition Changes
*Disclaimer: This story is from the memory of a ten year old child, written almost sixteen years later.*
I think that hate is a strong word. But I hate it when friendships become a competition.
In fourth grade I had three really good friends, Levana, April, and Kathy. Levana was one of the coolest kids in the whole school. She had yellow stirrup pants that were practically to die for they were so cool. She wore all of her t-shirts with a belt, which I thought was a tad odd, but hey, she was Levana, she could get away with wearing anything probably. She won the proficiency award every year for our grade as the one with the highest marks. She was smart, she was pretty, she had cool clothes, she had her ears pierced, and her mom let her get perms.
Sometime near the end of the school year, in late May or perhaps early June, Levana decided she did not like me anymore and no longer wished to be my friend. I can specifically remember being in the ravine behind the playground and the maze on the schoolgrounds and her telling me to "go suck on an egg." I can also remember being particularly puzzled by this statement, not only because I had never heard it before, but also because I did not think it possible in any way to actually suck on an egg.
Anyway, the fact that Levana decided she hated my guts affected the whole friend group of course. Levana and April both lived close to the school so they went home for lunch and didn't spend much of the lunch hour at school. This was ideal because it meant for an hour I could hang out with whoever I wanted to pretty much without the threat of Levana around. I could hang out with Kathy all I wanted.
However, during moring recess and afternoon recess, Kathy and April hung out with Levana and not me. Our class only had about 15 students in it, and I think there were only maybe 2 or 3 other girls besides us four. It was most unheard of in elementary school to dare to even consider playing with kids in another grade.
I remember one day when Levana came back early from lunch so she had time to play at the end of lunch hour. I had been playing with Kathy, but as soon as she noticed Levana coming across the baseball field, she informed me she had to go because she couldn't be seen with me. She ran away from me and I understood. Levana was the coolest girl in school, you didn't want to be in her bad books. Because it sucked. Big time.
I have absolutely no recollection of why Levana and I were no longer friends. And I doubt she does either, and sometimes I wonder if she even remembers any of this. I haven't seen her though since I moved away the second month of fifth grade. That summer, when we told people we were moving in October, she "forgot" that we weren't friends anymore and spent a lot of time at my house. When school started up again she did put some distance between us again, I think there must have been some danger for her reputation to mend our friendship so quickly in the eyes of our peers.
Having Levana's friendship was a competition. You never knew when it could turn sour, and you did not want to be on the outside of it.
I called Levana about five years ago, I hadn't talked to her since exchanging a few letters in seventh grade. We were both older of course, and had graduated high school, but had since then experienced different things. She dropped out of university and moved in with her boyfriend. I had finished a year of art school and was just beginning Bible college. I had never had a boyfriend and wouldn't even consider living with one.
It's interesting where life's road takes you and where you end up. It's interesting to see how friendships develop, change, and morph and end.
I can remember my Mom telling me once that she didn't think a particular friend of mine was one of those friends you stay friends with for life. I think she was wrong though, I talk to that friend still almost every day.
True friendships shouldn't be competitions. The greatest prize isn't the friendship with the coolest person, it's the friendship with the one who cares.