Halloween – a time for costumes, trick-or-treating, ghost stories, scantily-clad women, and of course the chance for a middle-schooler to have some haunting moments. My two spooky tales of red cheeks and anti-social, self-conscious awkwardness take place on the Halloweens of my 11th and 13th blessed years on earth.

At age 11, my friends and I had decided we were going to be hula dancers. At this time in my life, I hardly felt 11. I was already being called ma’am. I was as tall as I was going to get, tower over the others in my class. My +11 vision correction was written all over my face, along with new appendages called pimples. It seemed as if I was the only one at school with these new zits. To hide them I would secretly pack liquid concealer in a Ziploc bag inside my backpack and take it to the restroom with me. I would just about die when someone would ask me if I was wearing makeup.

To upset my world even more, fifth grade was also the year when my classmates began their one-week relationships. I decided to ditch my friends and spend Halloween in Sioux City, IA, with my cousins, Patrick and Andrew.

The day before Halloween, we all went to my cousin Ben’s football game. I was so nervous to talk to my cousin Pat’s friends that I stayed next to my aunt and uncle the whole time.
One of his friends, who must have been curious, came and sat by us for a time. I watched him as he whispered and chuckled into my cousin’s ear. My cousin, being the good person he was, told me what he said. “He said you look like a bug.”

Thanks, glasses. My hurt feelings returned with me to my uncle’s house, where I had to spend more time with boys. I had long time wished that I had a girl cousin my own age, but since my uncle had seven kids and six of them were boys, this wish wasn’t worth my time.

Article Author: Emily Deck

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