Just as interesting things seem to happen to me, I seem to make interesting friends.
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In my last essay, I mentioned a girl I called Christina the Psycho. She was one of the most memorable people I've ever had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing. And this is why.
Her given name is Christina Laseck. Well, at least it was when I first met her. See, her mother is divorced from her father and the older woman took her maiden name back. We went to the same daycare together, though thankfully we didn't go to the same elementary school.
Ever heard the song "Issues" by The Offspring? : "Oh man, she's got issues and I'm gonna pay." I'm sure a lot of people were thinking something on the lines of that and my entire family were considered one of them:
it was my parents who came up with the nickname.
She was emotionally needy and desperate for a friend, which in her case meant anyone willing to put up with her and her incessant prattling about her mother, the retired greyhound they adopted, and heaven knows what else. I personally blocked it out a long, long time ago. Some things are not meant to be stored in your brain for all eternity.
I tried everything short of murder to get her to leave me alone after school: spit in her face, called her names...hell, one time I even scratched her on the collarbone. Did those things get me in trouble? You bet-I spent more time in time out because of her than anyone else. Did they get her off my back? Only for a little while.
Once middle school started, I left Kids World to concern myself with a whole new group of people who assumed that I was a freak simply because I was myself. I became friends with another girl, Angelica-more on her some other time-who I talked to on the phone constantly.
Well, one time I met a friend of her's who knew her and I made referrence to her. She gave me Christina's number and that night I called her.
Considering all the crap I put her through, one would think that I'd get a hang-up-keep in mind that this was three years that had gone by since we last met-but no. Christina was glad to hear from me. And she was still very talkative-after two hours on the phone, I had to firmly tell her to hang up.
After a while, we made plans to do a sleepover at her house. We'd go to The Palace-a popular skating rink-and then Christina's mother (who was driving) would take us to their home in Royal Palm Beach.
When Christina and her mother pulled up, I was surprized at what I saw. Her acne had worstened and her hair was shorter, but she was the same old Christina.
I did three skate/sleepovers with her before I had enough. See, the more time I spent with her, the more I wished I had never taken down that number. It seemed that Christina had an older sister who was like the epitome of The Perfect Daughter: beautiful, smart, intellegent and well-off. Meanwhile her baby sister was in "special" classes and still failing everything. To make matters worse, she kept remindinh her daughter of this fact. Gee that makes one feel real special, doesn't it? No wonder she was messed up. I simply stopped calling her after the last one.
Now the average person, when the person they consider their friend stops calling, get the hint. Oh, no, not Christina-she would call me at all hours begging me to be her friend again. I tried simply hanging up. I tried being polite and telling her no-at one point I even got my father on the phone to tell her off. We had to get a answering machine so we wouldn't have to deal with her.
It took me a year, but she did indeed take the hint and stop calling. I thank her mother. And to my other friends I become a bore, telling them the story of Christina the Psycho. And I'm sure somewhere out there she does the same for her friends about me.
Why do I do anything?
Only the Gods know why!