The Backpack

by Katrina Alexis
(USA)

It was the beginning of the eighth grade year and everything was going as planned. I had good friends, activities that kept me going, and a firm grasp of middle school life.

All I had to do was keep going through the rest of middle school. Life was comfortable after two years of middle school struggle, and I had earned it.

All was smooth sailing, until one day, a fly hit the windshield.

My trusty backpack, which had consistently borne the superhuman strain I put it under, finally gave way and broke. The zipper busted one time too many, and this time it was irreparable.

Trying not to become distraught, I thought of a solution.

“No problem,” I told myself, “I’ll just tell Dad, and he’ll completely understand and drop everything and take me to Wal-Mart so we can get a new one.”

However, my idea wasn’t as well received as I had hoped.

“No,” my dad said flatly. “I’m not going to take you to the store at 9:00 at night. Just make due- don’t you have another backpack?”

I did not.

He suggested taking his Herbalife tote bag as a substitute. Ugh-I’d rather make my own.

Hoping for some sympathy and possible convincing power to persuade Dad, I appealed to my Mom.

“Why don’t you just take your brother’s backpack?” she suggested. “He never uses it.”

Not exactly what I had in mind.

My brother was around seven at the time and had gotten this backpack that could have more easily carried him to school.

My brother’s backpack, however grown up in size, was unfortunately just his age in appeal.

Complete with Talisman zipper chain, it was bright blue, and decorating the back in shiny plastic Technicolor, was the smirking face of one of his Television icons, Yugioh.

I was sure he was smirking at me.

“No way,” I said incredulously. That backpack was out of the question.

No way was I going to show up to the eighth grade wearing my little brother’s Yugioh backpack.

I could just hear what my once - friends would say.

“Alright,” she conceded, “but I still don’t see why not when it’s a perfectly good backpack.”

The conversation moved on to other options, but it was clear that it was getting nowhere.

My level of teen angst started to rise.

Finally, my mom said what would stay with me for years.

“Are you saying that you’re not bringing that backpack because you’re afraid of what your friends will say? Just because someone might say something?”

The truth hit me hard, and it hurt.

“No! ...” I defended dumbly, but I knew she was right.

“Well fine, take another one then. Just because you care about what other people think, go on then. I was hoping you were a different girl.”

Well, I had only one thing to do if I had any desire to keep my sense of worth.

“Fine,” I told her. “I’ll take the backpack.”

The next day found me hurrying out of the car, huge conspicuous Anime backpack carrying my folders and lunch.

I quickly made my way to homeroom, thinking somehow that those even walking towards me could sense the burden on my back.

My friends greeted me as usual, and then gave me a quizzical look after a glance at my cartooned friend.

I spent all day explaining, and tried to avoid copping out with the desperate cry that “my mom made me wear it!”

It became a bit of a personal test to see if I really could get over what people thought of me.

My mom had a huge point, and I wanted to see for myself if I had what it takes.

So, for several weeks I went around with that blue backpack, and in time, people got used to it.

None of my friends deserted me, and although I’m sure many may have had some dubious thoughts as to my personal decisions, none of them mentioned anything besides the regular.

Real friends usually don’t.

Life was still good, eighth grade was still a blast, and all in all, this really did just turn out to be nothing but a fly in the windshield.

I am so glad for the tough love that my mom showed me, and for her loving way of telling me “Grow up.”