Sush!

“Can you keep a secret?! And not like last time, Sara.” I angrily shook my head at my closest and oldest friend. We met in kindergarten. “This is really, really important and I want to share it with you, but not if you will tell anyone. And that means your boyfriend, too, Sara.” I say, trying not to sound as judgmental as I felt. I was still debating with myself whether I would even tell her, but of course now that I’ve mentioned something she won’t leave it alone. I love Sara, but she can be an overwhelming presence and has a bulldog resistance that I find both fascinating and scary.

As Sara stares at me in rapt anticipation of hearing my news, I wasn’t able to stop myself from remembering the last time I started a conversation like this with her and what a dismal failure that turned out to be. But like an old movie reel, my mind paraded out, in horrifying detail, the sequence of events that highlighted (more like my lowest point) my first year of high school. To this day when I think of what my friend, Sara, did I shake in extreme embarrassment. Why is she still my best friend? Because despite her letting me down, as soon as she realized the depth of my despair, she was quick to apologize and not only to me but to the entire school. Yeah, I agree, she went way overboard, and I was secretly proud of how brave she was—getting permission to make a public announcement as part of her apology to me. Although how much that helped me feel less embarrassed is a matter of perspective, I guess.

The film running in my head continued to march images one after the other, undaunted by the fact that I really didn’t want to see these images any more. I was picturing and remembering that moment that will be forever etched in my brain. I was leaving the girl’s bathroom in a rush. Today, of all days, I got a little dressed up, and I was wearing a jumper dress with stockings—the thicker ones which were better suited for this early fall day. Too bad I forgot my first period class was an important test and if I was late, no matter how well I performed on the test, Ms. Moniker would automatically dock a grade off the paper. I just couldn’t let that happen. In my haste to exit the bathroom, unknown to me, I was trailing behind a long line of toilet paper. If it hadn’t been for the nice hall monitor that politely, if somewhat embarrassedly, let me know my situation. “Miss, I suggest you go back to the bathroom. You have a little tissue issue—behind you.” With reddened cheeks, he showed with a sweep of his arm behind himself. I also amused him as he chocked off a laugh and tried for a cough instead. Why do people do that? Like someone can’t tell that your cough is really a laugh. I was so frustrated and doubly embarrassed and so out of time that I spun in a crazy circle trying to catch the flying toilet paper. With a lunge and a grab, I hauled it out of my stockings and angrily balled it up, throwing it in the nearby trash can.

I raced down the hallway, skidding around the corner and slipping into the classroom door just as the last bell rang. With a huff and a barely muffled groan, I plopped into my seat right next to Sara, who at this moment was giving me her saucer eyes with brows raised up into her adorable bangs. She will want to know every tiny detail. What am I going to tell her? I’m terrible at coming up with believable stories and lies, unfortunately for me.

I shook myself out of my reverie. Time to be in the present and pay attention. I was just handed my test paper. We barely cleared the classroom doorway when Sarah had me pinned to the nearest locker. Uh oh, when Sara gets like this, no one refuses her.

“What the frick happened to you just before class, Chloe? I could barely concentrate on my test trying to image what could have happened to put that startled look on your face and your cheeks were so red, too. So don’t even think about not telling me—everything!” She demanded with a little shake of my shoulders.

“Do you have any idea just how intimidating you can be, Sara?” I asked, working to stifle my body’s telltale trembling. It didn’t help that Sara was 5’9" and built like a linebacker—mind you, a beautiful one.

“That’s my point. Now stop stalling and spill.” She glared and straightened up from her threating posture over me.

“Well...” I hesitantly spoke. “You’ll just have to hold your horses until lunch because I’m not telling you in here where the walls and lockers seem to have eyes and ears.” I said with almost no tremor to my voice. Although I held out little hope that Sara would forget about my incident, no sooner were we in a relatively isolated spot outside when Sara startled me once again by jumping right to the point.

“Spill.” She demanded, again. As she slowly leaned over me, I found myself blurting the whole ugly incident. And wouldn’t you know, instead of feeling sorry for me, she zeroed in on the cute hall monitor part of my sorry tale. She noticed that I described him as cute. Why did I let that slip, especially around Sara? Now I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again. If she would just stop laughing for a second.

“You have to promise me.” I earnestly began.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sara interrupted with a wave of her hand.

“No, really, Sara. I meant it. You have to promise me here and now. You’ll keep this a secret, right?” I looked at her imploringly, my eyes wide. I sure hoped I looked like the hurt puppy I was trying for.

“I’ll keep your secret.” She said, but she wasn’t looking directly at me. Isn’t that important that you look someone in the eye when you promise them something important? Before I could ask her to reassure me again, the bell rang signaling the end of our lunch period. If I didn’t have another darn test, I would have pushed my case.

As I’m preparing to leave school after my horrifying day, I’m struck by the extra loud laughter and fake whispering I’m hearing all around me. Without looking obvious, I peeked around and was I mistaken? I’m certain several fingers just disappeared, but the remaining impression was that they had been pointed at me. What could possibly be wrong now?

Fast forward to today and I gave myself another huge shake. I did not want to see anymore reminders of that incident—ever again would be too soon. As I look back into my best friend’s eyes, I’m uncertain I should dare to trust her with this secret. There’s way more at stake than a little piece of toilet paper this time.