First Grade. I'm 6 years old. My best friend is Melissa. She's fat. Not disgusting. But the fattest person in our class. No matter, Melissa is hilarious. We have fun together. So it's the day after we get back from Christmas break. And everyone is parading around in their new clothes, looking and feeling sexy. I'm wearing this hot pink and purple number with cats on the sweater. My parents would never buy a sweater this sweet. It was from their friends Ralph and Amy. They know what's cool. Not anymore though. Ralph just got out of jail and Amy left their daughter with her new husband to go get a job in another city. Life sucks.
So it's lunch time and there's just enough room for all the girls in our class to sit at one table except for two. Guess who the two girls are who sit at a big long table by themselves.
Me and Melissa. Fuck 'em. We're having a better, bosser party over here.
Melissa's been whining about a stomach ache but I keep babbling on about my holiday.
Suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, she barfs like a gallon of puke onto her tray, drowning her food in this viscous brown upchuck. And here's the funny part: she pukes straight down onto her tray, looks up at me with coffee colored dribble sliding down her chin and says: "Caitlin I barfed!".
I guess little kids don't know what to say in that circumstance. Like, obviously you barfed.
And here's my disgusting, self-centered answer to my best friend: "Don't get it on ME!".
Ugghh. I have so many regrets in my life. And this is one of them. Being sick when you're young is like dying. It's unbearable. I didn't help at all. She ran to the garbage can with her tray and threw the whole thing away. And ran to the nurse, after asking an "aid" if it was alright.
And all I could think about was my new sweater, and how I didn't want any puke on it.
Now in 5th grade, I had a friend Erin. And I used to pee my pants a lot. From laughing too hard. I still do. I've laugh-peed as recently as 2008. It's a thing. And it's better than shitting the bed. Erin used to make me laugh so hard. A kid with pee stains is not ever going to live that down. Backing out of the room can only be used once or twice. So Erin would give me her sweatshirt to tie around my waist so no one would see the pee. Isn't that the nicest gesture? Even nicer was: I would give it back to her at the end of the day, with MY pee on it, and she would wash it. Or her dad would, rather. That's a good friend.
That's a GOOD friend.