www.whyville.net Oct 30, 2011 Weekly Issue

Senior Times Writer

Number 9

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Never before had I felt what it was like to be used. I never knew what such betrayal felt like, or how much it hurt. My life probably could have done without it, but I can't change the past.

I live in a small town. In this town, you basically grow up with the same kids you've known all your life, no one new really comes into the picture. No one with teenagers in the family would ever even consider moving to this town; there's nothing to do, our education is mediocre at best, and we have a lack of funding for sports. The odd time that a new kid does show up, no one really knows what to do with them; some people shun them, others quickly try to welcome them into their group, determined to get to the kid before any one else has a chance. Something made you different. Somehow you differed from all other new kids we'd had in the past. No one shunned you, but no one made an effort to be friendly to you either. You were kind of just . . . there.

I'm not sure when you started, but about half a month into the school year you decided to start sitting beside me in English. At first I paid no attention to you except to answer a few questions you directed my way. As the days went by, I started to realize that perhaps the reason you kept trying to make conversation was because you had no one else, no friends at this new school. After that realization, I vowed to start being friendlier towards you.

For weeks we talked non stop during English. We were partners for every assignment and I helped you through questions you didn't understand. After school when I'd see you waiting for your bus alone, I'd leave my friends and go over and talk to you. I began to slowly learn about your life; you moved to this town for hockey, you were currently living with billets, and you kind of missed your family. You suggested I should go watch one of your hockey games, so I did. One Friday, my friend and I went and watched your game against your hometown.

I think it was at that moment, when I saw you skating around the ice, that I started to fall for you. I couldn't help it, the way you were playing . . . I could just see your love for hockey. As you were skating onto the ice, you glanced into the stands and smiled at me with your eyes. That's what I loved most about you, was the fact that you could just smile with your eyes and make my day.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who found out you played hockey. A group of the popular kids at school decided to go watch that particular hockey game as well. Now let's just say that in my town, hockey players have a certain status. Once Monday rolled around, you had abandoned your regular seat beside me, and had chosen one amongst the popular kids who were all suddenly listening intently to what you had to say. Now that they knew you were a hockey player you were worthy of their attention. You obviously didn't care over the fact that up until that point, they had treated you like dirt.

Now I don't see you anymore. I haven't talked to you in over two weeks. I guess you finally found the "friends" you were looking for. I guess I knew that you were bound to end up with them eventually, but I suppose I was hoping you were different, hoping you didn't care about popularity. Either way, I had lost you.

The question remains in my mind, am I glad that I got to spend the time with you that I did?

No. I would rather have never known you at all.



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