There was this girl in elementary school that bullied the crap out of me. She bullied a huge amount of people, but I felt like I was one of her main targets. I hated this girl from like fourth grade through sixth grade because of the way she treated me.

Then, in sixth grade this dweeby little boy in my class said he was gonna fight me. All of the other boys picked on him and said he couldn’t beat anybody up (not even a girl), and he said he was going to beat me up.

I have a smart mouth, so I said he could meet me in the alley behind my house. We could go there or the space between the church I lived next door to, and my house. There was like a grassy lot between the two.

This girl lived around the corner and up a block from me. So she finds out about the fight on the bus ride home. And she follows me home to be my wing girl.

The minute this motherfucker tries to lunge for me she steps in front of me… And puts out her fist.

Now dweeb knows that fist. This girl bullies everyone. She’s the reason my entire grade didn’t get to play the recorder in fifth grade because we are considered such a bad class. She has for sure bullied him.

He steps back and turns around and he  runs! This boy runs home so fast!

She yells after him, “you better run, boy!”

I look at her incredulously. She says, good fight. We won. She turns and walks home.

I go into my house, like what the fuck just happened?!

Later that week at school, we are in the bathroom. I have my period, so I have extra supplies in my bag. She asks me if I have a tampon. I do. I gave it to her. She’s cool about it and we commiserate about menstrual cycles.

I look at her so confused. And she looks at me like I can bully you, but nobody else can. You are mine to pick on and no one else. I will mess them up.

There was this understanding. It was like a lightbulb going off.

I was okay with it. She occasionally ragged on me after that, but never like before. I never took it personally after that, either.

Then one day, I was invited to the skating rink…by her. I told her maybe. I didn’t think my parents would let me go.

I told my parents I wanted to go to the skating rink. They thought it was a foolish idea because I couldn’t skate. But a bunch of kids from school would be there, and I was barely ever invited to anything.

Who invited me? The girl that was so much trouble and was a bully to me? This had to be a joke invitation my mother believed.

I told her it was real. I was certain.

So, I really wanted to go? I did. My mother let my father drive me. I brought a little bit of money I had saved and my dad gave me a couple dollars.

I was a little nervous that maybe people would be mean to me, but the girl and everyone else from school seemed glad I was there. It was surprising.

The girl asked me if I could skate. She seemed remarkably empathetic in this environment. She stuck nearby and asked me throughout the night if I needed help.

Eventually, I told them I wanted to try to skate. The girls in the group helped me put on my skates. One of the boys took my hand, so I had something to hold onto.

There was a railing around much of the skating rink. I held onto it with one hand and I slowly started skating. The boy let me hold on as long as I wanted and slowly I told him I was ready to let go.

One of the other kids skated by and stepped in to help me so the others could skate. The girl remained nearby.

We got to a gap in the railing. I looked at it. I was determined. The girl offered her arm. I told her I was okay and I pushed off from the last railing slightly. I was able to grab the next railing and continue skating.

The group cheered me on. I felt awesome.

Throughout the night I skated, sometimes holding onto people and the railing. Sometimes next to the railing with no one.

After about an hour to an hour and a half I was tired and two of them helped me to one of the benches where I sat down and they helped me get off my skates and on my shoes.

I bought nachos and offered everyone some, and then it was time to go.

The girl walked me out to my van when my dad was waiting.

I told her I had a great time, and she said she was glad. She told me to come back again.

That was the last time we really talked.

Seventh grade meant junior high. I was segregated to the high school, because the junior high was not accessible and all of my classes came to me.

I was in honors classes, so I was only with a small group of the same people for most of my classes.

It’s funny how people come into your life like that, and then just disappear, but they make an impact that you don’t soon forget.

This girl bullied me, and then she defended and was nice to me. It can be confusing being disabled and having friendships. This is definitely a relationship I will never forget.

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