Part 6: I'm Fine, Everything's Fine.

TW for people who are sensitive like me :) 

The production that my theatre teacher decided to put on was "The Wiz".  If you haven't heard of it, that's okay because it isn't very good. It is the story of the Wizard of Oz, traditionally performed by African American people. The original cast featured Michael Jackson, Diana Ross, the songs are jazzy and soulful and my teacher decided to put on an all-white production of this show. This probably wouldn't slide in 2026, I think it barely slid in 2016, but I didn't really get what the big deal was at the time. I got a good part and had fun doing it. 

A tradition that YMT does with every production, is an initiation for the first-timers. I heard about this for the first time a few weeks before the tech week of the show. I asked what the initiation was and everyone was really weird and secretive about it. I would push for more and more information and they would say things like, "if you really want a hint, look at this scar on my arm." which would just make me want even more information. I asked when it would happen, they would say that it's a surprise. One girl even told me that they had to drag her by her foot to get her into initiation because she was so afraid. Everyone found great thrill in this, but I was a really sensitive kid. I ran out of the room in tears, actually scared that these teenagers were going to hurt me. They came to my aid, assuring me that the initiation wasn't anything bad and that they traditionally play it up to make the new kids scared, that's all. 

With the show ending and the new semester, I was starting to feel really sad all the time. I had gotten really attached to the kids that were graduating that year. They had really took me in when I didn't have anybody and the idea of them leaving me was really scary. I spent a lot of time crying in the bathroom at school. I would send messages to them saying things like "I can't stop crying in the bathroom stall. I'm not going to class." At one point, I told them all that I was hurting myself because I thought that I deserved it. I had scratched myself with a pencil a few times. It gets all swollen and looks really scary. They would see it on me and tell me that they're really worried. I think I wanted them to worry. I was crying for help and attention. I'm not sure what was happening with my family in 2016 but I know that I felt alone a lot of the time. I didn't like myself and I wanted all of my friends to know it so they would feel bad for me. 

One day, I get pulled from class because the counsellor's wanted to see me. Uh oh, what are they going to say to me? I knew it probably wasn't about a course change and that was usually all they had to talk to us about. I go and sit in her little office and hold my breath to wait for what she's about to tell me. "Rebecca, I've called you in here today because your friends are really worried about you." I turn beet red. They weren't supposed to go tell an adult about this, they were supposed to feel bad for me and pay more attention to me. "They said that you spend a lot of time crying in the bathroom during class and that you might have hurt yourself before." I look out the window of her office and see one of my friends from theatre sitting there waiting for me. She must have been the one to tell the counsellor what was happening with me. "Nothing is going on. I'm fine. I don't know why they told you that." I lied to her face, which unfortunately becomes a reoccuring theme in these early high school years. I felt backed into a very awkward corner. Somehow, I escaped her office and talked with my friend. She said that she hopes I'm not mad and that she didn't know what else to do. I'm not that mad, just more worried that my mom and dad will find out. 

The grads all huddle with me in the corner of the drama room to have an intervention about what had happened earlier. They said that they love me and that they want to know what's going on with me and why I'm so sad all of the time. (Today in current day, I had planned to share the details of this story but unfortunately it still stings a bit too much to share. I have made a lot of progress with what happened at the end of this year but I have a long way to go. This version will be filtered.) I blurt something out that is untrue, something big and extravagant. It's an explanation as to why i've been so down, but it is completely untrue. They're all shocked. They start to cry, hug me, say they're sorry for what I'm going through and that they're here for me. Here's all my attention, but was it worth it to get it in such a horrible way?

My lie doesn't last for long. They start to find plot holes in my story, discrepancies when I told different people, and just overall it wasn't very believable. I understood why they were mad because it was a really bad lie. But that didn't prepare me for what came next. 

Group chats were made about me, talking about how I am a liar, a horrible person, how they need to all cut me out and make me pay. Mind you, I am fourteen and they're all eighteen. I admit defeat, own up to what I've done but they are just getting started. One of my good friends at the time changed my name in his phone so that nobody would see that he was talking to me, because then they might turn on him too. Even though I try to make amends, they all hate me. They let me know it too. All but two girls turned on me and I am thankful for them to this day. Every day, I leave the old drama room after lunch, after school, after class and I wait by the door where nobody can see me. They don't think I'm there so they laugh at me, make fun of things that I've said, make fun of what I'm wearing that day, make fun of everything about me.

The school year ends, the bullies graduate and life goes on. When I ask one boy to sign my yearbook he says "I would, but I don't remember your name." Yikes. I wonder what he's up to these days. I have a lot of healing to do from this situation but at that point, I was ready to start grade 10. A new fresh start with no more grads, a new production, new classes and a new reputation would do me good. I kept all of this quiet from my family. I went home after school while this was going on and acted like everything was fine. I was not fine. I had slivers from pencils on my arm and nobody liked me. But I couldn't let them know what was happening. it was too painful for me as I was sure it would also be for them.