Andrew Mercer was the cruelest kid I ever encountered. He’d wait a couple blocks from the bus stop so he could jump me in the mornings. Then he’d apologize. That was the worst part. Strangely, I’d request to safely remove my glasses before being attacked and he would oblige. I didn’t know what he was picking on me for, except that I was the imposter new kid at school with the same first name. I was also an easy-looking target, but I was actually scrappy and not one to back down from a fight, even turning the tables and getting the better of him sometimes, so probably things escalated as a result. I also recall some early skirmishes with Joe Gardeman at the same bus stop, but as I never harbored any resentment towards him, I suspect those were instigated by me. During the bus ride itself, I tried to mind my own business as the rest of the kids tried their best to light the bus on fire and torment the driver, who they called One-Eyed Jack. I once witnessed a projectile narrowly missing the back of his head before cracking the windshield. I was grateful that at least I wasn’t being picked on as much as him.
Within the first couple weeks at my new school, I received a mysterious note from someone named “Aimee” asking me out. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I asked Matt, who still had a locker next to me and was still one of the few people I knew at that point. He shrugged. I eventually concluded it must have come from the girl drummer in band named Amy Johnson and could only assume she was spelling her own name wrong to be cute. So we wrote notes back and forth for awhile. She always ended them with TTFN. I really never understood the point of it, unless it had something to do with the nervousness associated with interacting with her.
I signed up for the football squad, not realizing actual football with body armor is much different than touch football in front yards. It was a nightmare that started 8th Period and lasted until 5pm. I would get so nervous during 7th Period that I sometimes thought I would pass out. The body armor weighed more than I did. I played tight-end, and rotated out with Jeremy Wicks every other play. When I came in, I’d give the quarterback, Charlie, the next play, which was always the same play- hand the ball to Andrew Mercer or Ryan and hope for a miracle. We lost every single game.
The house we initially moved into in Polk City had issues with the title. It was owned by an incarnation of evil, who happened to be the father of Dustin Drozd. Dustin had a clever wit which I admired, but his dad told all of his children in my presence that they weren’t allowed to hang out with me because my family was causing him trouble. I’d later experience a scene straight out of To Kill a Mockingbird where Dustin’s dad threatened my dad’s life.
My dad and I raised pigeons, and dad built a pigeon shed in the backyard. One day I was taking care of or playing with the pigeons when, to my horror, Amy and another girl named Cara appeared. I showed them the pigeons and answered their questions as hurriedly as possible. At least that’s what I think I did, as everything had become a blur of panic. All I could think was how I would explain to my parents, who I assumed were watching from the windows in the house, why I had been talking with girls. Interacting with the opposite sex was not something that was condoned in my family.
On the last day before Christmas break, Amy’s friend Jodi informed me that she was breaking up with me. For some reason, I chose to respond, “I don’t believe you,” which caused her to disappear for a few minutes, after which she returned with the news, “You’d better.” I was slightly relieved that I’d no longer have to spend time figuring out how to compose notes.
The first guys to befriend me at North Polk Junior High/High School were Trace Kendig and Erik Sheldon. I met them both in Mr. Leach’s English class. I believe the first thing Erik asked me was whether I liked the song Kokomo, by The Beach Boys. I had no idea what he was talking about, so he sang it to me, which I found hilariously intriguing.
When the art teacher heard I was associating myself with Trace, she bluntly told me he was an idiot. This is just how messed up that school was. The only thing wrong with Trace was that he smoked cigarettes, and he never so much as offered a cigarette to me. Trace and I never really did hang out a lot, probably only because we lived in different towns, but as we got older he’d occasionally give me a ride in his goofy kit-car and was also instrumental in landing me my first job.
Erik and I, however, would become best friends and hang out a ton in junior high. This had a lot to do with the fact that, thankfully, the sale of that first house never went through, and over Christmas break we moved again. Polk City is divided by a rise or hill, and we moved from under the hill to on it, one carload at a time. Now I lived across the street from Amy and the next street over from Erik. This move also meant a change of buses and bus stops. I could now learn about every baseball player and how much they were worth via Erik’s baseball card collection while being driven to school by One-Eyed Jack’s wife.
Andrew Mercer moved out of state before seventh grade ended.
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