The Fall of My Freshman Year

It was the fall of my freshman year of high school...

Sometimes still, when the night is clear, the air is crisp and scented with that undeniable "fall smell," I sometimes get a fleeting feeling in my stomach that used to come right before a high school football game. It would be dark, chilly, and absolutely thrilling. There were so many variables, so many different ways the night could turn out. And not a single one had anything to do with football. Would "X" boy look at me, would "Y" girl be my friend outside of Language Arts class? Would I look cool enough in my marching band outfit? Would I be invited to a friend's house after the game? WHICH friend? Who are my friends?

Ah, the wonders of a teenage mind. All of the questions really boiling down to Who Am I? Or more importantly, Who Should I Be? Who do I need to be to have the people I WANT to have like me, like me? What do I need to change? How far am I willing to go?

It was the fall of my freshman year of high school. Claire was one of my few friends who had survived the inevitable "friend shuffle" the summer between eighth and ninth grade. She was taller than me with auburn curls, perfectly placed freckles, and ice blue eyes. She had the luxury of "early female development;" something I envied, something she was still getting used to (and was certainly not convinced it was a luxury at all). Though we were the same age, Claire seemed much more worldly than me. She had older siblings who had taught her the ways of the world, and while I was the oldest in my family, she was generous to pass those findings on to me. She was the first person to introduce me to music outside that played in church and musical theater. She was also the first person I ever knew to like a boy old enough to drink alcohol. The first person to like a boy (the same boy) who lived in MINNEAPOLIS, a place not so far in distance, but worlds away from our sleepy little hometown.

That fall semester, Claire and I spent many a lunch hour discussing how she could make Mr. Minneapolis like her. We started with fixing her hair differently. That didn't work. We tried doing her makeup differently, to look more grown up. That didn't work. One afternoon SHE suggested wearing clothes that showed more legs, more boobs. I protested. Perhaps because I didn't have any boobs. Perhaps because boobs in general still kind of scared me. Perhaps it was because it sounded like something I had seen Samantha do on "Who's the Boss" and it didn't end well. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter, Claire was determined. When that still didn't work, she decided that she would drink alcohol with him, that maybe if she were drunk, he would like her. Despite my arguing against it, while -I- was sitting at the high school football game, holding my frozen flute in my mittened hand, SHE was in a dimly-lit Minneapolis apartment drinking with men who should have known better, as she desperately tried to be who she thought they wanted.

Finally, one Friday afternoon, she came to me. Her auburn hair hanging in curls that only nature could create, her freckles perfectly placed and her ice blue eyes resolute. She spoke with a determined tone. She knew what she had to do.

She would have sex with him.

My jaw dropped. I'll admit, I barely knew what sex was. I mean, I THOUGHT I knew, but I didn't really know until many years later (and really, it's still up for debate). I DID know however, that this was NOT the solution. Even though she was "worldly" I knew Claire was still a girl, just like me.

"Claire, this is a big decision. A decision that once you make it, you can never change back. You can never change back to the Claire you are now."

She looked at me and said, "I don't want to be the Claire I am now."

That Friday night, I went to the high school varsity football game, while Claire went to downtown Minneapolis. At the game, the quarterback of the freshman team told me, (behind the bleachers), (while I held a cup of hot chocolate), (after I had changed out of my marching band uniform), that he liked SOMEONE. He liked a GIRL, and her name started with a K ... I'll admit, I didn't think much about Claire the rest of the night.

In fact, I had completely forgotten about this entire situation until just a few days ago. I was reading a book of stories and in it was a story by storyteller Laura Simms. The story is called The Black Prince. Here is the story as I remember it.

There once was a young man who lived in a small village, that was part of a large empire, in the deserts of Egypt. This young man was ugly, lazy, and for all intents and purposes, worthless to the outside world, though his heart was pure and his intentions always well meaning. All he did all day long was play his flute and wander around the village. Finally, in the late afternoon sun, he would become tired from the wandering and the flute playing, and he would lay down (wherever) and sleep. His mother was certain this boy would one day fall asleep beside the river, roll in, and drown.

One day, as this young man wandered, he came across a white stone wall that he had never seen before. He decided to scale the wall and as he reached the top, he looked into the most beautiful garden oasis he had ever seen. In this garden grass grew lush, and rich. Flowers bloomed in colors he had never before seen. A stream ran between tall, vibrant palms and glistened like diamonds in the desert sun. Despite all of this beauty, the young man could not draw his eyes away from the most mesmerizing site he had ever seen. At the end of the stream was a crystal blue pond, and beside the pond sat the most exquisite young woman this young man had ever seen. Her hair hung long and curled and dark down her back. Her face was delicate but strong. Her lips were soft and the same color as the flowing pink fabric of her gown. And her eyes were alive with the mysteries of the night. The young man watched as she sat dreamily by the water's edge. He did not know what to say, he did not know how to reach out to her. So instead of using words, he played his flute from atop that white stone wall. Day after day the young man returned. Day after day he played his music; music that flowed from his soul, the music of love. He never saw her look up. He never saw her see him, and still, he played on...

One day, as he wandered through the village, he heard others speaking of a beautiful girl who was said to enjoy the most beautiful garden in all of Egypt. As the young man listen more closely, he knew that his love and the girl of whom they spoke must be one and the same. He also learned, to his great dismay, that this young woman, the woman who unknowingly held his heart, was none other than the Pharaoh's daughter.

Upon hearing this, the young man was devastated. He knew that no matter how many silly songs, no matter how many days he climbed that white stone wall, he would never have her. He was just an ugly, lazy, worthless man. However, the same gossiping villagers had another story to tell, that of a magical man who lived in the desert. A man who had the power to transform a person... to change their soul, to change their future. The young man demanded to know exactly how to find this magical man. The villagers told him to travel three days and three nights into the desert. There, in an impossible oasis, he would find his magical man.

With that the young man turned and walked into the desert.

For three days and three nights he wandered, playing his flute as he walked. Finally he came to an impossible oasis and there, on the edge of a watering hole, stood the magical man. The young man told his story. He begged to be changed to a warrior, a hero, a fierce and powerful man. He begged to become the man the pharaoh's daughter would love. The magical man took pause. Looked at this young man who didn't appear to be ugly, lazy, or worthless. He warned the young man,

"Young man, this is a big decision. A decision that once you make it, you can never change back. You can never change back to the man you are now."

The young man looked at him and said, "I don't want to be the man I am now."
...

Days and weeks passed. The young man's mother, after waiting for her son to return, assumed that he had finally fallen in the river and drown. She held a funeral in his honor. Egypt was also suffering. Bits and pieces were being conquered and taken by surrounding empires. Despite the efforts of the Pharaoh's men, nothing seemed to help.

Then one day, from the depths of the desert, walked a man. This man was impossibly handsome. Charming, strong, and dressed entirely in black. He asked to see the Pharaoh, his voice so powerful the soldiers took him straight away. The Black Prince told the Pharaoh that he could change the fate of his empire, take back the territories that had been lost. The Pharaoh agreed and within weeks, the Black Prince had accomplished all that he said he would.

The Pharaoh threw a celebration throughout the entire land in honor of the bravery and wisdom of the Black Prince. All of Egypt attended. At the end of the evening the Black Prince was called to the throne where the Pharaoh stood, his daughter, the most beautiful woman in all of Egypt, standing beside him. The Pharaoh announced that as a reward for all he had done, the Black Prince was to marry the Pharaoh's daughter.

As the first smile spread across the face of the man who was now the Black Prince, the Pharaoh's daughter stepped forward. Her hair hung long, black, and straight down her back. Her face was delicate, and colorless. And her eyes were empty. She spoke to her father.

"Father, if it is your will, I will marry this man. But I will tell you, that I can never love him. You see, I gave my heart away to a young man long ago. A man who used to climb the white wall of my garden and play the music of my soul with his flute. I don't know that he ever saw me, I don't know that he ever knew I was there, but I loved him Father. Then one day, he stopped coming. I sent all of my servants, all of my handmaidens to find him only to learn that he had drown in the river. I attended the funeral in his honor. So though I will marry whomever you wish, I will never know love like that again."

All of Egypt was silent.

The Black Prince looked at the woman who stood before him, and in her empty eyes he could see the reflection of the young man he used to be. He watched as the reflection handed over his hand-carved flute to the magical man in the desert in exchange for the man he was today. It was as if he could faintly hear the words of warning, "you can never change back..."

It was then the Black Price spoke.

"I have had a love like yours once. I too, have lost that love. For this, I cannot ask you to marry me."

Without another word, the Black Prince turned and walked into the desert, never to be seen again.

----

I didn't hear from Claire that entire weekend. Monday morning at school I found her at her locker. Same hair, same freckles, but her ice blue eyes looked strangely cold. I asked what had happened... if she had gone through with her plan.

"Yes" was all she really said.

Though there were no princes, or Pharaoh's daughters, or magical men, I imagine that Claire felt the same way that young man did when he fully understood the meaning of "... you can never change back." Claire and I grew apart over the rest of the semester. I was busy with school plays and dating high school boys, and at the end of the semester, Claire moved with her family to a different school, a different state.

I remember, on that last day before Christmas break, dressed in her black winter coat Claire turned and walked out of the school, never to be seen again.

Freshman year seems like a lifetime away as I look back. However, sometimes still, when the night is clear, the air is crisp and scented with that undeniable "fall smell," I sometimes get a fleeting feeling in my stomach that brings me back to the wonders of a teenage mind. Where all of the questions really boil down to who am I? Or who should I be? What do I need to change? How far am I willing to go? However, on this fall night I have come to the understanding that these questions do not disappear with age or experience. If anything, they are more prevalent and more profound, with consequences far more severe.

So as you wander the desert, seeking the magic to make the change you desire, heed the warning and remember with some decisions you can never change back to the person you are now.