Page 153

The other night I received a phone call from my two best friends of all time, Nick and Matt. We grew up a few blocks away from each other, and have been friends for over a decade. Until recently, both of them still lived in our hometown, so I see them pretty frequently. A few months ago, however, Matt accepted a job working in D.C. This has obviously prompted months of moving, sorting through boxes, and finding all kinds of shit that probably never needed to see the light of day.

Case in point: Our high school freshman yearbook.

The phone rings, the caller ID says "Matt," and I pick it up by saying something witty, like "Hey asshole." They don't call me eloquent for nothing! Surprisingly, Nick's voice comes booming over the phone with "You are such a NERD," followed by hysterical laughter. Matt follows with, "We're looking at yearbooks." I immediately quip, "Hey, I remember two guys who had bowl haircuts with center parts!" Well, now I've done it. They bring up my high school boyfriend (shudder), I bring up the girl they both made out with junior year on separate band trips. Finally, all possible insults exhausted (and all of us laughing harder than I've laughed in a loooong time), Nick says, "So, would you like to know why you're a nerd?"

Now, dear reader, I have never denied being a nerd. But here's the thing: these two have seen almost every embarrassing moment in my life, including the most humiliating thing I've ever done. More on that another day. These two also profess to be nerds. So clearly this is something beyond normal nerdiness, and I am, frankly, a little nervous. But hey, you only live once, right?

"Sure," I say, "Tell me why I'm a nerd."
"So we're looking at the comments in Matt's yearbook, and we found you. And you wrote, 'Matt, have a great summer, something about band camp, blah blah blah, love, abbersnail's full name with middle initial, page 153.'"
Matt chimes, "Abs, what do you think is on page 153?"
I am already laughing. "I don't know. Hopefully not something like me in my marching band uniform?"
Nick is beside himself. He can barely form words, but he manages to say, "Your CLASS PICTURE."

Okay, so now I'm laughing my ass off. And, might I add, I'm driving home from San Carlos in the dark. My car is swerving all over traffic. I'm usually a pretty good driver/talker, but all bets are off when Matt and Nick are involved. (Actually, there are about fifteen great stories about that, too. I really could just write this blog about my childhood and take up years of your lives.)

Even now, days later, I still laugh when I think of the two of them reading that note. The thing is, I remember myself at that age, and I'm sure my thought process was this: Just in case you forget who I am, just in case I think we're better friends than you think we are, now you have to remember. It's a little sad, and so typical of girls that age. It also reminds me how lucky I really am, to have these two people in my life to this day. Really, how many of us stay so close with people who knew us before puberty? (Maybe this is fortunate? Remembering some of the stories I'd like to share, I realize that perhaps it would be better if no one else remembered them, too!)

Regardless of all of that, I think back to page 153, and my response to the "class picture" comment:

"Yeah, well, in that class picture I seem to remember wearing a plaid vest and Lion King earrings."