Last night a friend posted something to Facebook that brought back one of my all-time favourite memories. I couldn’t believe I’d never shared it on this blog, so I figured it’d make a great little Friday story.
So here we go. (And forgive the duplication if you happened to have stumbled across my conversation with Mandi Lynch about this.)
I went to a small Christian school, as we’ve established, and that meant that every class was tiny. So that meant that a lot of times the lines between those grades would blur. Most of the time that was a good thing–it prepared us for differences in the world outside. But in some cases it was hard. Especially if you were a girl with a crush on an older boy.
Amy had a huge thing for Tim Haber, who was easily the most dapper and wry of all the boys in my year. He and I had been very good friends since 8th grade, even though he thought I was destined for the loony bin. So I was the one Amy continually pressed for information about Tim and how she could snag him. I knew it was a lost cause because Tim was destined to marry Julie, a childhood friend to whom he had been all but promised since that 8th grade year. So I spent a lot of time trying to disabuse Amy of the notion of getting Tim to love her.
Clearly it didn’t work because when we came to homeroom on April 11th there were balloons and cupcakes. Knowing our small group well enough to know one another’s birthdays, we all looked at each other quizzically. Why were there all the makings of a birthday today, when the closest one was Jennie’s–already passed on the 6th? Just before the final bell rang, a breathless Amy popped in, huge smile on her face and giant birthday card for Tim in her hand.
I need to say right now that I’ve always had a weird way of being able to figure out what was going on behind the scenes in certain situations. Many people over time have found it creepy, so I try to keep that to myself. But that day I knew–just KNEW–automatically what had happened and I started to laugh. Mean as it was to laugh at someone else, I couldn’t help myself.
“Amy, why did you go through my purse?”
Since everyone else was busy trying to figure out why Amy decided to celebrate Tim’s birthday six months too late–or early–my question seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere. All heads turned from Tim’s gobsmacked face and pingponged between my laughing and Amy’s mortification. She was turning steadily redder as she answered me.
“It was just to find out his birthday! I promise. I didn’t take anything else.”
“Yeah, I know. Otherwise I would’ve known before now that you’d done it. Next time you decide to steal information out of someone else’s datebook, make sure they don’t write their dates in European style. Tim’s birthday is November 4th.”
You know what’s sad? That out of that whole story, I ended up being the one everyone thought was a weirdo. Me. For writing my dates “backward”. Not the girl who dug through another girl’s purse and threw a (very) belated birthday party for a boy who thought she was an idiot.
Oh well. It still cracks me up.