The first thing I did when I got home from school yesterday was open the freezer and roll an ice pack up and down my arms, and around my face. It's been that hot. Of course, that means everyone is wearing skimpy little dresses and tanktops (girls at least; a few boys- somehow- continue to dress like it's winter). Our school has decided to reestablish it's long-forgotten dress code.

A Summary of Our Dress Code
-Skirts and shorts must extend past your fingertips
-Shirts must have sleeves that are at least two fingers wide
-No bandannas

Most of the teachers have completely ignored the most recent campaign, but a few have joined with the vigor of a hungry lion. Yesterday, I was asked to change my shirt because the sleeves were too narrow. I admit it was border-line. But two weeks ago, no one would have said a word.

You may be wondering why our school doesn't allow bandannas. Well, after your first 'gang symbol' lecture from our school officer, you'd be just-plain-scared to wear one. I did, once, make the mistake of wearing one. It was a green one with fact boxes about snakes on it-because I'm part of the Nature Geek Gang. Another loop-hole in our dress code is the fact that there is a limit on how thin your shoulder straps can be, but no (well-known) limit for how low your shirt can dip.

However, considering the dress code is only reinforced a few weeks of the school year, what difference does it make?

Well, it was back to school today. Sun-tanned tweens in short shorts and badly concealed spaghetti-straps spilling with stories of the beach, the friend's house, the unexpected encounters...
Strangely, even after a week of not seeing one another, no says 'How are you?'. No one asks if someone else had a good spring break. If you want to know, you ask 'what did you do'. There was hardly even a 'hello' before the tales of the week came cascading down like a bombarding hummingbird.

The 'popular' friend group clustered around the cafeteria tables in the corner exchanging the latest gossip. I stood a bit apart, my back against the wall, listening in.

My Status At Middle School
An Outsider on the Inside.

I don't really fit in. Not like a puzzle piece, or a secret ingredient. My style is a bit different. I'm a whitewater racer; a sport which no one understands, let alone remembers (you do crew, right? or oh, I went rafting once...). I enjoy theater, but I'm never in the school plays because I like working with adults in community theaters. I don't curse regularly. I sing to myself in the hallways. I know songs from musicals by heart, but I also have K'naan and Taylor Swift on my i-pod.

It isn't as if I don't have friends. Everyone in that corner of the cafeteria knows me, and I know them. We have had a few shared words. A compliment on one another's shoes or essay. There are those that I have discussed the world with. And middle school. There are those that I eat lunch with every day. But there's only a handful of friends who really get me.

They may think they know me. They only know part of me. This makes me sound like I'm a shy, soft-spoken spectator. Anyone will tell you that's not me. I'm actually quite talkative, and not at all afraid of speaking up. I just don't have much to say at school. I smile at jokes, and nod when someone tells me a story. I laugh, too. Perhaps it has to do with the time of the day, perhaps it has to do with the people I'm with, but I don't often get silly at school.

This is not to say I don't have friends. I have many people who I consider friends, and they consider me their friend, too. But I don't have a group of friends who gets together every other Friday for a sleepover, or spend weekends together at each other's summer lodges. But I'm all right with that. Just as long as they get some part of me and I have someone to eat lunch with, I should count myself as lucky.

I'm a puzzle piece for a different puzzle. But somehow, I fit.