Ugh, this one is going to take a while. School Years will likely be multiple posts, over many many years.
But this one came back to me after almost 30 years, and it hasn’t left.
It needs to come here, to be said, and to be left behind.
It was June 1989. Grade 12 graduation night.
I grew up on a 10 acre property that often held bonfire parties. Dad would set up the trailer in the backyard by the firepit with all of his disc jockey equipment in it so the tunes were blastin’, we would get corn on the cob from the local farmer, and the neighbours would join in because they were awesome and loved a good party too.
I had been asked, or I offered, can’t really remember how it went, to have a bonfire graduation night, and all the classmates were welcome.
They gratefuly and quickly thought this was an awesome idea. On the surface.
We began cleaning up the property, mowing the lawn, there were about 30-40 of them coming, made sure the driveway was able to handle the vehicles. I was excited.
I had never really been one of those that was in the ‘in crowd’. I was a people pleaser, and had been bullied by many of these students for the entirety of my school career. So I was excited because they had accepted.
Dad was at home prepping, he popped down for the ceremony, and quickly left to start the fire, and start the music.
The receiving line was long, and when the students came through and were congratulating each other, they told me how excited they were to come to the house and party. Double checked the address, the time, and other details.
I kept getting more and more excited. Who wouldn’t?
As soon as we were done I headed home, changed my clothes and headed outside to wait for the guests to arrive.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Not one person showed.
All the prep.
The time.
The money.
The excitement.
Dad looked at me around 10 30, and said, ‘babe, I don’t think they re coming’.
I burst into tears.
No one ever showed up.
I found out over the next few days that someone had planned a party at her home, and the rest of the class knew about it. Everyone knew about it, but me.
And that was where they all were.
Everyone knew when they were going through that receiving line and checking details with me, that they had zero intention of ever showing up.
It came back to me that they were laughing at my expense… ‘ha ha, she’s the only one that didn’t know.’
These are the people that bullied me while I was in elementary school, spit in my face in high school, and barely tolerated me otherwise.
In the days and weeks following, I would run into a few of them. I remember one particular student had a really cocky smile on his face… Peter. “Hey Tonya, how was your party after grad?’
He knew the answer, and he knew what they had all done. And he still thought it was funny.
Fast forward 20 and 25 years.
High school reunions.
Please come! Oh my goodness, look at your successes! You’ve done everything you wanted to do, and more, how great! We d love to see you!
Clearly everything you’d done to me many years ago never affected your conscience.
No thank you, especially since I’d have to pay a premium on a ticket because I was single.
One person in my lifetime has apologized for their behaviour toward me when I was in school. I’m assuming that’s all I’m going to get.
It was my ex sister in law, and true to my people pleasing tendencies, I brushed it off so she didn’t’ feel bad. She couldn’t get over the fact that I had accepted her with no reserve into our family after everything she knew she had do
The apology was appreciated. And we moved on, she isn’t part of my day to day anymore, but I did appreciate the act.
The rest of them? Meh, karma. Some are bald, some are broke, some are running mom and dads dairy farm in the middle of nowhere, pretending to be happy.
I have travelled extensively, I am living life, now on my terms, making my own rules, and I care little about those who have an opinion on it.
This little story now goes to the universe, and no longer lives in my head.
Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.