Weird

My name is Leah, I’m 12, and I’m weird. My mom says it’s not me, it’s just everyone else and they’re still growing up, but if I’m the odd one out, I’m pretty sure it’s just me. 

I love to learn. I love the feeling when an equation finally clicks. I love analyzing every sentence of a book, appreciating the mindblowing intentionality with which the author placed each word. I love to discover. But I hate school. I hate it more than a cat hates water.

Every morning, after brushing my teeth, washing my face with the smelly cleanser my dermatologist prescribed, and getting dressed, I stand in front of the mirror, face scrunched up, holding up jeans, sweaters, shirts. 

This shirt makes me look fat.

I like this cardigan, but it looks like it's for a grandma.

Ugh, these are mom jeans. I need new ones. Maybe the wide legged ones like Emma has. 

Once I find an acceptable outfit, then I make tea, and do the Wordle and Spelling Bee. If I have time, I do the Connections, but today it took me too long to pick out my outfit and I can’t finish before I need to head to the bus stop. 

I meet Eloise, or as I call her, Wheez, halfway down the block and we walk together. 

“Hi Leah!”

“Hi Wheez!”

We’ve been best friends for two years, ever since she moved to my school. 

“Leah, I have to ask you something.” she says coyly.

“Ok,” I say, wondering what’s so important this Tuesday morning.

“So, John William texted me this morning.”

“Wait actually?!”

We both squeal!

Wheez has the biggest crush on John William. I think he’s such a nerd, but to each their own. She’s been waiting a long time, and I’m so happy for her.

Once we get on the bus, I ask excitedly, “Do you want me to figure out if he likes you?”

“No, not yet. Let’s just see how things pan out.” 

We get to school and part ways on our way to homeroom. 

Suddenly, I hear someone unfamiliar speaking to me. “OMG hey Leah. How was your weekend?”

I look up at her from my seat, confused. Oh man, why is Emma talking to me. Shoot, this is weird. Emma is talking to me. Usually no one talks to me. Usually everyone sort of forgets I exist, they’re so wrapped up in themselves.

I hesitate. “It was goo–”

She cuts me off.

“Oh, that’s nice. Do you mind?”

She gestures to her math homework. I should have seen this coming. I take the sheet, give it a once over, and start to explain. “So, you need to move everything to one side -”

 She cuts me off. Again.

“Oh, no, could you just, like, give me the answers?”

I take a deep, shaky breath.

“Sure,” I say in a small, small voice.

The 5 problems take me 30 seconds. 

I hand the sheet back.

“Thanks! What an academic weapon,” she giggles.

I hate that nickname, “Academic weapon”. I don’t remember when I got it, but at some point I was answering too many questions in class and doing too well on my tests, and it required a label. Emma smiles, sickly sweet, flips her hair, and walks off. 

I hate school because of people like Emma. Emma isn’t a bully. In the movies, the mean girls knock over your books and call you names. Here, there are no mean girls, just girls who hurt you in a way that leaves you powerless to fight back. Just like Meg did yesterday, when she said, “Omg, your overalls are adorable. I swear I had the same pair when I was like 4!” Sounds like a nice thing, but she knows I know that it isn’t. There's nothing to tell a teacher. Nothing to say to make them stop. These kinds of things are why I worry so much about my outfits now.

The worst part is I know if I really wanted to be somebody to these people I could. I could figure out how to put on makeup, sob and cry to my mom until she let me download Tiktok, shut my mouth in class, and talk louder at recess. Talk only about boys, makeup, and horses. Never bring up politics, or the news, or books. It would take really hard work to change everything about myself, but if I had to, I could do it.

But I don’t want to. The person who only talks about boys, and makeup, and horses, who sits silent in class, isn’t Leah. And I just want to be Leah.

But people don’t like Leah. Because Leah is weird. But that’s ok. I’m ok. If I have to wait until college to find people who understand me then I will. 

 That’s not to say I don’t have friends; I do. At least on paper. But our relationship is hard to explain. There are three of them. My best friend Wheez, Gigi, Meg, and Robyn. I’ve known Gigi since I was really young and there isn’t really anything wrong with her as a friend. She is nice to me, especially when it’s just us, but she would hang out with Meg and Robyn over me any day. She’s just wrapped up in her own life, but so is everyone else. Nobody is wrapped up in my life. It might be because I don’t have a boyfriend. Gigi has been dating Fernando for a while. He moved here from Mexico in the middle of the year. 

Ugh, see? Even I’m wrapped up in Gigi’s life.

Wheez is my “best friend” at home, but at school, she gets all weird, and all of the sudden it is really important to her that she fits in with the other girls at school. She talks less, especially to me, wants to talk about different things, and do different things, and hang out with different people. Not me; Gigi, Meg, and Robyn. It makes me feel bad sometimes, but I’d rather her be my best friend sometimes than never. 

Meg and Robyn are kind of snarky, and sometimes they leave our table to sit with the more popular girls. They only tolerate having me around because of Gigi.

I sigh and walk up to my usual table. 

“Guys, Leah’s reading another book! So smart.” says Robyn.

The words sound like a complement, but the way she says it, it doesn’t feel like one. Meg and Eloise look at each other, smile, shake their heads, and shrug. I fume, but I take a deep breath and shove the anger away.

Meg and Robyn like me enough, I’m kind and occasionally funny, but they don’t understand me any better than I understand them, so we just coexist, not connect. I try not to care what they think of me, but it pierces my soul, when Eloise looks at me like that.

Lunch is stressful. I never know what to talk about and even though in class, and with those I’m truly comfortable around, I’m very loud, at lunch I’m quieter. Today, I feel especially overwhelmed and I’m not sure why. Gigi’s voice is louder, Meg’s annoyance at everything more pronounced, Robyn’s obnoxious laugh drilling into my eardrums. Through the noise, all of the horrible noise that is filling every crevice of my brain, I pick out a sentence.

“Leah will help you, she’s our academic weapon.” giggles Eloise.

I pause. I’m used to this from Meg, Robyn, and Emma, but from Eloise? Today, a line has been crossed.

“I’d rather you didn’t call me that.” I snap sharply. 

Everyone turns to look at me, silent.

“Oh,” Eloise looks around, shocked, slightly shamefaced. “I’m sorry.”

I hate Eloise. She’s fake. I just want Wheez to come back. I just want Eloise to be weird like me, and not bug me, and like me more than Gigi, and I want her to be my best friend and I don’t want to do Emma’s homework anymore, and I want to be able to remember my locker number, and I want everyone to know that I love to play the clarinet, and go for jogs, and I want everyone to see the Leah that Wheez and my parents see and I want everyone to love her and I hate school and I hate this and I get up and run to the bathroom.

I lock myself inside my stall, put the toilet seat down and sit on top of it, hugging my knees. This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself in this situation. Alone, in the bathroom. I take a deep breath. 

I’m pathetic. 

I want a real best friend, all the time, not just when we are alone. I want people to pay attention to me because they like me, not because they didn’t have time for their math problem set last night. I want to go to school and answer as many questions as I want in science class and not get labeled because of it. But I’m too pathetic to get any of that.

Instead, I have Wheez at home, but Eloise at school. I have a posse of people who know I will finish their homework for them if they ask. And I have an awful nickname. 

I’ve had this conversation with myself so many times since the start of 6th grade. I wish I could go back to elementary school, when none of this mattered at all. 

I can’t go back. But I can’t take this anymore either. 

I should’ve said no. 

I should have said no to so many people. 

No, Emma. I won’t do your homework for you. Do you need me to explain the concept? Better yet, do you want to try listening for 5 seconds when you ask how my weekend was, instead of cutting me off to remind me that you only asked to soften the blow?

No, Wheez. I don’t want to hang out with you this weekend if you are going to act like we aren’t close and you’re infinitely cooler than me when Gigi and Robyn are around.

No, Robyn. I really, really don't want to listen to you talk about horses. If you listened to me when I wanted to talk about books, maybe I wouldn’t be so angry inside every time I have to hear about your stupid horse. 

And today, I did. I told Eloise not to call me that. Not to label me. But then I ran to the bathroom, and I have no idea what will happen if I go back. 

Because I said no, I might have absolutely nothing.

I might have no one. Maybe no one will talk to me at all. And I won’t even have a fake best friend. I’ll have no best friend. 

Or, everyone might respect me more. And Eloise would go away, and Wheez would come back. And Emma and Robyn and Gigi would actually want to be my friend.

But I don’t know which will happen. That’s why I am sitting on top of the toilet seat hugging my knees, so no one will be able to tell it’s me even if they saw my shoes.

I rock back and forth, squirmy like the thoughts writhing around in my head.

Say no. Say yes. Go with the flow. Assert yourself. Be more chill. Be more loud. Be more quiet. Make Eloise go away, make Wheez come back. Do you even like Gigi and Robyn? What is wrong with you? Why don’t you like horses? What is wrong with them? Why don’t they like books?

I wring my sweaty hands. I have class in 5 minutes. Shoot. 

I leave the bathroom and pick up my backpack, walking towards Spanish class. It passes sin problema, and just like that the school day is over. I walk to the car and hop into the front seat.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi sweetheart, how was your day?”

“It was alright.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She can always tell.

“Not right now.”

“Ok.”

She takes my hand and squeezes it. I squeeze back. I don’t know what I would do without her. When I get home, I fix myself a little snack. Cheese, crackers, and grapes. I take it upstairs and start my homework. Eventually, midway through my Trig functions worksheet, my mom calls up the stairs “Hey honey, Wheez is here!”

Oh no no no no no why is she here. Is she here to tell me she doesn’t want to be friends anymore? Is Gigi mad, did she send Eloise as a messenger? Or is she just going to pretend everything is normal and she wants to get ice cream? 

I have school and Eloise will be there tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. I should just get this over with. I walk down the stairs, my stomach a lead weight, and open the door.

“Hi,” I say

“Hi,” says Wheez tentatively. She looks at me, with a concerned half smile. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Ok.” I have no idea what she is going to say. I follow her and she starts walking downhill towards the lake. We walk in silence for a little while.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know that name bothered you. I kind of thought it was a compliment.”

“See that’s the kind of thing Eloise would say,” I mutter.

She turns defensive. 

“What does that even mean? My name is Eloise.”

“Yeah, but everyone calls you Wheez. Except at school.”

“Leah, I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

This time, I get to do the cutting off.

“Eloise, it’s not fair for you to pretend we are best friends at home and then fall over Gigi’s feet and laugh at me when we are at school. It sucks.” 

I speak sharply. What is happening to me? I don’t know who this Leah is. This Leah who does the cutting off. Brave Leah. Strong Leah.

“I - I - I don’t know what to say.”

“Well,” I look at her and sigh. “I guess you should figure it out.” I walk back up the hill and into my house. I feel like I should be angry, but I’m not. I’m just sad. 

The next day, as I walk towards homeroom, I feel like a newborn horse, wobbly kneed. I go through the motions of my day, and by lunchtime my nails beds are raw, in anticipation of lunch. 

Unfortunately, I happen to be really hungry, otherwise I would just read in the library. I walk towards the lunchroom, and everything starts to slow down. I get my food, my heart speeds up, I sweat, my breathing grows heavier. But then, Wheez grabs my hand, smiles at me, and pulls me towards the lunch table. We sit down, Meg, Robyn, and Gigi look at me, seeming unsure of what to say. I sit down and smile at them, signaling that everything is ok. Receiving the peace offering, they go back to talking about, you guessed it, Robyn’s horse. 

Wheez looks at me and smiles. She nods, and that nod speaks a thousand words. That nod says, “You are my best friend.” That nod says, “You are really cool and you’re really weird and I like both. ” That nod says, “I’m right here.” I take a deep breath and decide to be brave. 

“Do you guys want to know what I did this weekend?”

They all turn to look at me, surprised, but not hostile. 

“I finished the first Twilight book,” I say, smiling.

Robyn lights up, and asks “Ohmygod no way. That’s a book?”

I smile and nod. 

“Ohmygod I LOVE the movie!

“You can borrow my copy when I’m finished,” I say. She hesitates, then agrees, and we spend the rest of lunch talking about whether we are Team Edward or Team Jacob. 

The next day at school, I feel like I am walking on air. I was wrong; people do like Leah. They like strong Leah, brave Leah, the Leah that takes care of herself and doesn’t wait for other people to include her. Middle schoolers are too wrapped up in their own lives to think too much about anyone else, so you have to be strong enough to make them notice you. 

I sit down, and Abby walks up to me. 

“Oh, hey Leah! Can you help me? Emma told me you were really good at math.”

I look straight at her, smile, and say, “Sorry, I’m busy.” 

Then I keep reading my book.

[Just something I had to write for school. Thought I'd share.  Sorry it's long :) ]