We Were Bad-Asses, Or at Least We Thought So

It's been at least ten years since I really thought about middle school, but last night I dreamed the faces of my friends and there they were.

When I read news articles or when people talk about girl gangs, a part of me understands so completely. In sixth and seventh grade I was part of a group of friends that was inseparable. We were dictatorial, derisive, and cruel as only girls can be. We formed innumerable combinations of best friends and scapegoats among ourselves--but when we were all together it was like dynamite. Our slumber parties were epic and legendary among our fringe friends. We would stay up all night talking about boys and abortion and feeling sexy and how to get rid of pimples and the women we were so close to becoming. Together we tried out futures and personalities and experimented with how it felt to be in love. Their faces and names are etched so deeply inside myself that I could recognize the emotions in their expressions instantly in my dream.

Cassie. Aurelia. Alison. Megan. Darcie. Kelsey. Tara.

There were more girls, more friends who came and went, but those are the ones my heart remembers from before we scattered. By eighth grade I had moved away, and even though I have precious letters from some of them it was never the same--it never is. One of my friends ran away from home and never came back. Some of them finished high school and some didn't. By the time I started college, I was out of touch with all of them. If, as adults, we crossed paths I doubt I would recognize a single one of them unless we started talking and then I would like to think that our hearts would tumble out of our mouths and I could see their twelve year old faces again--all laughing and full of braces.

In my dream, I was being hunted--fleeing from the terrible knowing that someone is after you, knowing that they will catch you and when they catch you you will die. But my friends, those girls, they came to my assistance as naturally as they would back in seventh grade. Arriving at my side--answering questions someone asked me with the answers that were already in my mouth. Not because they thought I couldn't speak, but because they knew exactly what I was going to say and that by saying it for me I was made stronger for it. In the dream someone asked me who the leader was, and they answered, saying that there really wasn't one, but if they had to pick one it was me.