Jami and the Blue Haired Girl

a random memory As a high school freshman (freshperson?) I hung out with a group called "the Freaks" by the other kids. Think of goth-style clothing, but without all the death and creepiness. We wore black, read poetry, liked art and books and (in our estimation, I'm sure) looking dramatic. One of the reasons I loved the Freaks was they embraced all styles and such - you didn't have to wear all black to "fit in"; one girl dressed so preppy that I heard overheard someone say "Why does she hang with the Freaks? She dresses nice enough to be friends with anyone". Tracy, one of the Freaks,was beautiful and had long flowing blue hair that I secretly envied, even knowing it would look wrong on me. I desperately wanted her to like me. Not that she didn't. Tracy's thing was being sort of aloof. Young and trying to be cooler than I felt, I knew the group accepted me, but I still wanted to be Tracy's friend. Heck, I wanted to be Tracy. I thought the kids who made fun of the Freaks didn't pick on her, but more likely, I just didn't see it. Tracy had learned to not give a rat's behind what they thought;I had yet to grasp that important lesson. I truly believed that her ultimate coolness and grace transcended clique lines and even the "in" crowd wouldn't dare bother Tracy. At an assembly, I had unfortunately been seated by two boys who teased me regularly. Adding to the horror, I spotted Tracy's blue hair diagonally in front of me. She'd hear them make fun of me, and not want to associate with such a dork. The boys started in on my clothes (all black, of course) and my nail polish (also black). One jerk said "You must be a devil worshipper if you have black nails. Black nail polish means you worship Satan". Dumb, hunh? But as a young Christian, also sort of devastating. I didn't know how to respond. Tears threatened as I floundered for a cool response. Tracy whipped around, blue hair flying out. "What is wrong with you idiots? I have blue nail polish, does that mean I bite the heads off live chickens? " The boys were silenced; how do you respond to that? "If she wants to wear black nail polish, and even if she does worship Satan, what the hell business is that of yours? Why don't you shut the hell up and mind your own damn business, you (really bad word) jerks!" Their jaws fell. Tracy nodded to me and said "hey" in her usual relaxed manner before turning back around. The assembly started, but I floated on the glory: Tracy stood up for me! She'd shut up the boys I never could. It was better than if she'd stood on the stage and yelled "Jami's cool and I like her." She might have just been sicking of hearing them spout off. She might have felt sorry for me, the pathetic newbie Freak desperately seeking her approval. She might really have liked me. At the time, it didn't matter why, because I just needed it. The ironic end to the story - when I was a senior, I heard that Tracy's sister was a freshman. I sought her out and said "Hi, I'm Jami, I was friends with your sister." The younger sister, carefully dressed in the latest fashions and surrounded by clones said to me quietly, "Don't tell people that. My sister was a total weirdo." I thought of standing up for Tracy, but I knew that while I'd finally learned to not care, this one hadn't yet. I just smiled. "She sure was. Me too."