Last night was Halloween but I didn’t do anything. I stayed home to give out candy but nobody really came to our door. Supposedly there was a fight at Barry Lane, and Ally and Julie went and Marcie and Wendy were there too but I guess I feel like Marcie doesn’t really like me. I think Wendy does because she took me to her dad’s house that one time, but I really feel like they don’t wanna be friends with me. When I was in Florida with Ally I read her diary and it said that she didn’t want to hang out with me because Marcie didn’t like me. She also talked to Stu pretty much the whole time we were there. And it rained. I hate to say it but I guess we are growing apart. It hurts me more than anything but I just can’t deal with smoking everyday and I feel like a goody two shoes or something. I love her so much but ever since she wore that green dress to school and Angelo made fun of her, things haven’t been the same. I feel like in school I really have no good friends. Like Lerner is annoying and Carrie thinks she’s better than everyone else. I just wish I had a boyfriend. Someone to make me forget about all this.
Halloween is so overrated and anti-climactic. When you’re in high school and you wear a costume, you are doomed to be a nerd forever. It became more like a night to hang out late even when there was school the next day, and someone was definitely going to get in a fight. Syosset’s rival town was Plainview. Me and Ally wore thrift store dresses to school one day. Hers was a long green 1960s prom dress, totally ugly and cool, but Angelo Santamaria laughed in her face and things were never the same. She resorted to Polo, Nautica, blunts, and The Fugees before they were big, while I still rocked saddle shoes and backpacks adorned with Bouncing Souls patches. The two of us hit a rough patch in the mid 90s, but today we are super tight again. She’s actually an English teacher and fills me in on the Long Island goss all the time. Different yes, but it doesn’t matter now like it did in high school. I don’t know what happened to Marcie Fienberg, but I do remember that she used to wear a black silk shirt with white handprints all over it. I cleverly nicknamed it, “the handprint shirt.” It’s funny how I remember outfits more than actual events; feelings more than conversations or private jokes. Maybe that means something, Like everything we do will effect our life in the future in some small way, even if what we’re left with is just a bunch of handprint shirts and shame. Fights on Barry Lane will mean that one day you’re gonna marry a mime or something. Like eventually, these details make us who we are, and who we are supposed to be.