another painful memory from Year 7

The other day I wrote a post about my difficficult transition from primary to secondary school. Since I did the post, another event has entered my recollection. It is a painful memory, involving something that happened right at the beginning of Year 7. I suppose I could edit my original post to include this memory, but I thought it might be better to do a new post. Perhaps it will drive more people to my blog this way, who knows. Anyway. This is what happened.

In the first month or so of joining the school in Year 7, a classmate, let’s call him T, invited the whole class over to his house. I think it was some kind of bonding exercise, and it was made clear that the whole class was invited, with no exceptions. I believe there may have been paper invitations, although I can’t remember. But I do remember that the invitation applied to everyone in my class.

The gathering was on a Saturday, and I remember worrying the night before about what I should wear. How can I put together an outfit that would make me appear cool? Would we be doing physical activities, such as playing football? Should I wear trainers or sensible shoes? I remember not massively wanting to go, but feeling that this might be a good opportunity to get to know my new classmates. And maybe impress them with my football skills.

On the Saturday morning of the gathering, my dad drove me to T’s house. It wasn’t too far from where we lived, about twenty minutes by car. I remember that T’s house was massive – a mansion. Pulling up to the house, I remember wondering where everyone else was. Was I early? Late? Had I got the wrong day?

Standing next to my dad, I pushed on the doorbell. T’s dad answered, looking completely bemused. He asked who were were, and what we were doing there. Upon explaining that we were there for the class gathering, T’s mum appeared, and explained that the event had been cancelled. They had called up everyone in the class to inform them that the gathering would not be going ahead. Had we not received the message?

No. We had not received the message. In fact, I was the only person in the class who was not informed of the cancellation. Everyone else had been told, except me. So I was the only person in the whole class to have come to T’s house on that day.

I felt pretty silly and embarrassed. What happened next, however, was the bit that still jabs lightly into my sides when I think of it, even all these years later. T stood awkwardly in the doorway, myself and my dad on the other side of the threshold. We sort of stared at each other, T and I, neither quite knowing what to do or say. I wasn’t especially friendly with T at school, but having just started in Year 7, I hadn’t yet become particularly friendly with anyone. Finally I asked “shall I leave?” and T replied “if you don’t mind.”

If you don’t mind. 

He could have invited me in. He could have said sorry. He could have done any number of things to extend the hand of friendship, but he asked me to leave. If I didn’t mind. 

The incident was not discussed again. And I get the feeling my parents were embarrassed and upset on my behalf. It’s strange how these incidents can stay with us, and I often think about all the times I must have been less than friendly to others, and how, even though I myself may not remember it, others might still be sore about it, regardless of how much time may have passed.