Ten Year High School Reunion: Debrief

It’s amazing what ten years will do, it really is. The first thing out of A’s mouth when she got to the reunion was a complaint about how little things have changed.

“It’s just like high school,” she scowled, “look at all those fucking preps standing together over there.”

“They’re in line to get drinks” I told her.

“They’ll sit with their clicks,” she said, “you just watch.”

Like you just did? I thought to myself. I didn’t have time to argue the point because the other members of our little group of outcasts descended like vultures on the table. I hadn’t intended to sit with them. I had been sitting alone only moments before—just resting, to get off my feet for a bit, not hiding from the so called “preps”. In fact, I had been talking with the “preps” and found that they had grown into really interesting people. We had discussed our jobs and ambitions and I found myself entirely at ease with them. There was no talking of our actual high school days, just a pleasant mutual respect for what one another had become—because healthy people don’t hold onto teenage grudges a decade after the fact.

I gritted my teeth through some of what followed, but when my group started snickering amongst each other and insulting the former class president while he gave a brief speech, I finally had had enough. I got up and moved to a different table—a table where I didn’t know anyone—and introduced myself.

You have no idea how big that is for me.

I am not, by nature, a social person. I ran with the outcast crowd for a reason. I learned early on that I was incredibly awkward around people I didn’t know, and occasionally, even around people I did know. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to try being a bit more outgoing. Something I’ve thus far had more success with on the net than in person.

At first, they were a bit hesitant given how sudden my intrusion was, but I fell into the pace of the conversation quickly and soon we were laughing and having a good time. It wasn’t as smooth as it could have been, but it wasn’t painfully awkward either. They were actually very nice and we found out that several of us had connections to one another via coworkers—we didn’t even realize before talking that we lived in the same town. It was cool and it made me feel more connected to my community.

Later, V. dodged A. and the others and came up to me and asked me if I was doing okay.

“Yeah,” I said, “I just couldn’t deal with their crap anymore.”

“Yeah, well…nothing’s changed,” she nodded glancing over at where they were getting more intoxicated with every passing moment.

“Except me, apparently,” I said.

“No, hon,” she smiled, “you just grew up.”

Grew up. Is that what I did? In some part of me, I know I’m an adult now, but I still feel like a child so often that I forget. I watched the sunset for a bit while the band started to play out on the back deck of the bar. Then I quietly slipped out the back door when it started to get dark and headed home.

I’m looking forward to the twenty year reunion.