Are You Shy?

A shy personality is a blessing and a curse when you grow up with a sibling who is the polar opposite of meek in every way. Your brother explains to strangers, "She's just shy; she won't talk to you, so don't try." People can automatically assume that you are, in some way, a child who is silently judging them like the Safety Patrol advisor who took my not being able to look him in the eye as a sign of disrespect. So, you're left explaining to total strangers that your brother doesn't speak for you and that your crippling spinelessness means that you don't like talking to anyone, period. And then you're left, as per instructions from your parents, apologizing to advisors for disrespecting them when you really just were afraid to look at their 400+ pound mass of person for fear that they would gobble you up whole.

I could have stepped back and mentioned a blatant fear of being eaten alive by a witch or any suspicious character thanks to "Hansel and Gretel" and therefore a constant anxiousness towards anyone who seemed so overly delighted by the presence of children. There was a false sense of 'we are all SUCH good friends here, aren't we children?' found within this SPA (safety patrol advisor). I thought he was a phoney baloney and his massiveness only added to my growing case of the jitters.

My dad put his best passive aggressive father speech to work. He, with the help of the SPA, came up with an ultimatum: Either I apologize to the SPA, acknowledging my lack of respect and bratty behavior or I would miss the end-of-the-year party held at SPA's trailer. At this glorious party there would be cake, there would be ice cream, there would be barbecued chicken and potato salad. Plus, all of the elder Safety Patrol members (those who were elected to this illustrious position for their valor and hard work) would receive special badges. As an elder, I knew that this shiny tin plate would be the best award I'd ever received, and had planned to show it off on the lapel of my favorite jean jacket. This cool status would be ruined; I wouldn't get to finally kiss Jeff Daniels (non-famous version and the most coveted cute potential boyfriend in the 5th grade); I wouldn't be at a party with the coolest kids in elementary school.

I hemmed and hawed on this expected apology. When SPA presented me with this ultimatum I immediately sprinted out of his basement classroom, tore off down the hallway, away from him, up the stairs, and barrelled through the elemetary school's front doors. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing. It hurt to be accused of something I didn't do at all, but since he was my superior of sorts he was automatically right. I couldn't say or do anything to defend myself. I felt completely helpless. It was just so painful to consider that someone didn't believe me. Me, who never spoke unless spoken to. Me, who memorized every single birthday in my family so I give each aunt or uncle or cousin or grandparent a special birthday greeting. Me, who gave her dog, Ginger, an extra hug before I left for school, and one right when I got home, so she'd know I didn't forget her during the school day. Me, who created special cards for her teachers to let them know I liked them very much.

A few of my fellow Safety Patrol members gathered around me. There were a few weak attempts at consolation, but everyone agreed I should just do it. I didn't hear any claims of 'bullshit!' or support. Just to swallow my pride, accept the blame, and have a good time with everyone at the party. Someone mumbled something about Tonya Nichol. How, SPA had been watching her on the jungle gym car (a special metal pole playground in the shape of a car that most people grew out of by grade 3) on a daily basis. My friend, April, sputtered out in a disgusting tone how SPA had stopped to *accidentally* rub himself on the brick exterior of the lunchroom hallway when Tonya had her legs spread while wearing a skirt. SPA moved quickly to furtively place his large frame between her bare legs and stayed there for a really long time, basically trapping her in this position for at least a few minutes.

We went over the many times when one of the Safety Patrol members had been *bad* and SPA had taken us over his knee to spank us. Our punishment for being naughty wasn't just a slap on the behind, it was the distinct shame of having him do it in front of everyone else. Everyone laughed because no one knew it was wrong, really, or if we did, we didn't want anyone to know that we were aware that this was out of the ordinary or that we let him do this to us in the first place. It didn't seem THAT harmful. It was unnerving enough, however, that when it was my turn to be *punished* I refused. I backed away, refusing to look him in the eye, and shaking my head "No." I thought maybe it was this very moment that was behind SPA's ultimatum. It was at that point, my unwillingness to join in on his little game of mortification, that in turn made him feel chastened. Soon after that event, the party invitations were sent out. My name wasn't on any of the envelopes that sat on his desk.

"Do you know why you're not invited, Michelle? Do you want to know why you can't join in on the fun?" he asked.

I shook my head "No" again.

He did his "Alf" impression to try to put me at ease, but it only made me more uncomfortable. SPA explained in a low tone of voice that he was going to call my parents and that they would tell me what I did wrong. That's when I grew very very scared. Then, he dismissed me.

The walk home was excrutiating. I anticipated the worst. Going over the past few weeks in my head, I wondered if I had allowed a kindergartner to cross the street too soon. Maybe I accidentally turned my back on one of my teachers driving by in the car and he/she took it as a sign of disrespect. Maybe I just moved too slowly and the parents were complaining. Nothing made sense. I tried very hard every day to do my best at being a Safety Patrol member.

My dad explained it all to me very calmly, but the mood was thick with his huge disappointment. Over the next few days, after my friends had told me about Tonya Nichol and we whispered about the spanking, I created a heartfelt apology in my head. Everything lost its taste. I couldn't get rid of the fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't transform my thoughts into anything other than complete confusion. So, when I approached my dad to ask him why I really had to do this and he stuck firm to the proposed resolution, it only made the inevitable possible. I'd apologize. I'd know I shouldn't have to, but sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do.

I apologized. I allowed him to give me a hug after my tearful mumblings. It still felt wrong. I still felt terrified that he'd gobble me up whole. Only this time I was afraid he'd do other things first. That he'd finally spank me in front of everyone. That he'd try to approach me in the same way he had Tonya and I'd be too scared to move and would have to let him do whatever he wanted.

He never did any of those things. The party was in his sad tiny trailer in a quiet local trailer park. We had Ballpark franks, Doritos, Faygo soda and cake with frosting that was too sugary. He played us his favorite Cher records, singing along with them, while we exchanged befuddled looks. I didn't get to kiss Jeff Daniels, but he did pay particular attention to me during the water balloon fight. I told him my favorite *knock-knock* joke. He told me he was sorry to hear that I had to "go through that with that freak" and gave me a hug. I felt a little better and thought about trying to fix my constant shyness if it meant spending more time with him.

At the very end of the school year, it was announced that SPA had done more to Tonya than we previously thought. She had told her parents, they had a conference with our principal, and when the other parents caught wind of the mounting evidence against him, it was decided that SPA should resign from teaching and his position as advisor to the Safety Patrol members. My instincts were correct, but I didn't feel so spectacular about being right. I felt I should have said something, done something, maybe even refused to subscribe to the apology. But how could I have known that not trusting an adult for fear that he'd gobble you whole was more than an established fear of cannibalistic witches and therefore not such a childish notion?