Despite my mother's reassurance that "God had a plan" for me, I resorted to the fact that I would have this brace for life. Yes, I had somewhat given up, and decided that as I entered junior high, I was going to put all my energy into school because I knew that I still wanted someday to become a teacher.
During the next three years, I earned straight A's (with one minor setback), won various awards including the Daughter's of the American Revolution Award and was admitted into the National Honor Society; performed regularly as a member of Mrs. Chapel's elite choir; and even decided to run for Treasurer of the Student Council. I never expected to win, but did so with flying colors. Perhaps I had more friends than I realized.
My neighbor friend Linda was having many more problems adjusting to junior high than I ever thought of having. She had a huge growth spurt over the summer and now towered over everyone in the school at 6'1". Classmates made a mockery of her with their snide comments, and it reminded me of just how cruel people can be. But she was still my good friend even when we were nicknamed Mutt and Jeff after the comic strip. I could have cared less because those contemptible classmates would never become one of my "true" friends.
That minor setback, as one might expect, was PE class. I cringed at the thought of the "learning to dance" segment, but actually got lucky. Remember Lawrence, the boy who kissed me on the cheek in the fourth grade? He was my dance partner. I promised not to step on his toes too many times as long as he caught me if I started to fall. All in all, it was an "okay" class with NO falls. Yeah me!
But as a freshman, I met my new PE teacher, Ms. Beaumont, who looked like a bulldog and had the temperament of one. I just could not please that woman except when it came to doing sit ups. Oh, yeah! That didn't exactly make me a prime athlete. She gave me my first "C" grade ever, and I definitely let her know that I was NOT average! I tried harder than any other student in her class, and she needed to take that into consideration--which, by the way, she didn't. All in all, I had become a well-adjusted young teenager with a mind of my own. When things didn't go my way, I definitely let my parents know....like the night of "the visitor."
One evening I happened to be the one to answer the front door and found a stranger standing before me. I wasn't about to let him inside, but my mother appeared and told me to take my brother and sister into the bedroom and stay there. We were not to leave that room until we were asked to come out. I did as I was told, but didn't close the door all the way--I wanted to know who that man was. It was just so unlike my parents to send us to our room. She followed me and closed the door tightly. Dang! I listened intently and had the strangest feeling that they were talking about me. I heard my name several times along with " Patty," "money," "train," "no promises," and "help."
After he left, I confronted my parents. "Who was that man? Why was he here? and what did he want?"
They quietly responded, "It's late...not tonight...we'll explain tomorrow." Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough for me.
To be continued...
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