Thursday, July 27, 2006


My mom has her master in counseling. My father is a doctor. I grew up hearing diagnoses for the behaviors of the people around me. I met a girl sophomore year of high school who's mother was a friend of my mom. She was new to my school, so I took her in as a friend and invited her to spend time with my friends. She wasn't as wealthy as some of the other people at my school, and she didn't have a car. She was on my way to school, so I'd drive her in the mornings. My dad says I'm too trusting. Maybe I was back then.

At some point on our drives to school, she went into my wallet and stole the Express credit card my parents paid. She charged $400+ at Express. She bought 10 pairs of panty hose, among other strange items. I didn't notice. I rarely used the card. Her mom noticed she had many new things and went into her room. On the floor in the closet she found a cut up credit card. She arranged the tiny, cut pieces together and realized that the card had my name on it. Outraged, she made her daughter come over to our house and confess what she had done. She begged my parents not to press charges. She made her daughter return all the unworn items, and she reimbursed my parents for the remainder.

My mother asked me not to say anything to any of my friends. This girl had been through a lot. It was tough enough fitting into a new school. I was able to avoid her for the first couple of days. I told only my one best friend. Then, she started telling everyone that I stopped being her friend, because I was jealous of her. She started telling everyone I was a bitch. She started telling everyone all of my secrets. I still didn't say anything.

I was in an advanced art class with seniors and juniors. One of the hottest seniors and I talked much during the class. About three weeks after the credit card incident, he came over to me and told me he heard I liked him and stopped talking to my new "friend" because she liked him too. She had told him this and then asked him out. I burst into tears. Hysterical tears. My wonderful art teacher came over to me and asked me if I wanted to talk. I blurted out the entire story. Everyone in my class had gathered around. The senior boy was noticeably outraged. He asked what class she had currently. She was in the chorus class two doors down. He and the other boys from my class went and waited outside. When the bell rang and she walked out, in front of everyone, he asked her if she stole her uniform from me too. Then, he told everyone the story, ending with, "How dare you steal from someone and then spread lies about them. Are you a sociopath?"

Everyone talked and talked. Soon the whole school knew the story. No one sat with her. No one spoke to her. So, she went to the principal. She tried to convince him that I was lying and that I was making her time at our school miserable. I went to his office and couldn't believe what I was having to deal with. I did nothing wrong. This was her. I would have kept my mouth shut if she had kept her mouth shut.

I asked if my mother could come in an speak to him with me. She sat next to me as I told him:

"I've been here since 3rd grade. I'm a straight A student. I have a lot of friends. She is making my time here really uncomfortable. If you won't kick her out, I'll have to leave."

She was gone by the next afternoon. My mother explained that night to me what psychopathy was... the signs mainly.

I know people aren't always as cautious as I am... they trust more than I do... but I have to be careful now. Baggage I suppose.


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