So, Here I Am
by Hilltopper

CHAPTER 4

So, here we are moving to a small town in Ohio. None of us seemed to want to make the move. Having grown up in the South, Ohio sounded like a foreign country. The long trip up there did give me a lot of time to think. I would not know anybody but, at the same time, nobody would know me either. That meant that no one would know about my girlish past. This would be the perfect time to prove to my dad that I could be the boy he wanted. I resolved to try my best to ‘boy up’.

When we arrived at our new home, it was exactly that: new. The back yard was a sea of mud and there was nothing much around us. My school was quite a bit away but I still had to walk. On walking to school the first day, I told myself that I was going to be all boy.

That goal got side tracked somewhat at recess. It seems that here all of the boys play softball during recess. I had never played ball before. They asked me to play but, of course, I had to tell them that I did not know how. Well, since I could not play, I was more or less relegated to the girls section of the playground. This had not started like I envisioned.

When I got home, I told my dad that I had to learn to play ball. He taught me the rules and played catch with me when he could. I soon started playing with the boys even though I was the last one picked.

By the time school let out for the summer, I thought that I might be good enough to try out for Little League baseball. I told my dad that I needed a ball glove. He bought me a new one and I headed over to the ball park where tryouts were taking place. I walked up to the coach and told him that would like to try out. He looked at my glove and then at me. I could tell by his expression that he read ‘loser’ on my forehead. What I didn’t know was that a new cheap ball glove is flat as a pancake. One was supposed to limber it up and form a pocket for the ball to fit into. Since I had not done that, there was no way that I could catch a ball. I could usually catch a lot better than I could throw so this pretty much doomed me. Therefore, tryouts were a disaster. When I was told “you throw like a girl” for the second time, I just left. My ‘boying up’ goal was not going well.

I tried to make up to my dad for my tryout blunder by telling him that I wanted to go with him when he played golf. He cut down a five iron to my size and I followed him around the course. He taught me how to hold and swing the club. It was great fun and helped me bond a little with him.

Toward the end of summer, I was invited to spend a weekend on a farm one of my dad’s colleagues owned. He had a son that was a year younger than me. I was not sure about it but I agreed to go. Things went pretty well until dark. There was a patch of ground that was used to raise night crawlers. These are very long worms that are used as bait by fishermen. The worms crawl out of their holes in the dark. One is supposed to shine a light on them, quickly catch them, and put them into a bucket. Well, I tried but I could not bring myself to touch them. They looked like slimy snakes to me. Everyone kept at me, teasing me, and trying to get me to catch one. I could not take it anymore and ran off crying which was not the ‘boy’ thing to do. The incident was more or less forgotten after that and I made it through the rest of the weekend OK. When school started back, I found out that the incident had not been forgotten at all. It seems that the boy had told all of his friends that ‘Joan’ hated worms. That was my nick name for the 5th grade. So much for ‘boying up’.

On the first day of the second semester, I narrowly avoided what would have been a disaster for my boy image. We were taking an achievement test which lasted two hours. No one could leave their seats until the test was over. Toward the end of the test, I had to pee really badly. I was afraid to ask to leave, so I tried to hold it. A few minutes before the test ended, I had to let go. We had quite a bit of snow on the ground outside. As soon as we were given permission to leave, I quickly ran outside and promptly fell into the snow. I hoped that my very wet pants would be seen as being due to having fallen into the snow. It worked! No one seemed the wiser. Whew!

April 1 turned out to be named appropriately. A girl had moved in two lots down from us. I guessed that she was about two years older than me. I don’t know if I had a crush on her or not but I had definitely noticed her. I entered the kitchen on that fateful day when my sister hurried into the room.

“Johnny, there is a girl at the door wanting you.”

“What?”

“That girl next door wants to talk to you.”

“I’m in my pajamas! Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.”

I was really flustered. What could she want with me? Maybe she wants to be friends. Wow! I hurried into my room. I donned jeans and a T-shirt and rushed back out. I tried to get control of myself. Just as I turned the door knob to greet her, Sara said “April fools!” I was shocked and glared at her as I went back to my room. Tears started flowing. I never told anyone how devastated I was by this little joke. I vowed to never make a fool of myself over a girl again.

As I was leaving school at the last week of the semester, I saw my first fist fight. Two high school students were going at it. I was disgusted. I could not believe that anyone would do that. I thought, if that is the way boys act, then I don’t want to be one. I vowed to never get into a fight like that. I kept my vow. I never hit anyone with my fist and have never been hit myself.

During the summer between 5th and 6th grade, a new school was being built behind our house. The ditches and dirt roads were perfect for playing. I spent most of the summer there. One day as I was going over there, my dad told me not to get dirty because we were going someplace later. I rode my bike along the dirt roads and was really flying. Suddenly, I hit a rock in the road and flipped over my handle bars. I was only scraped up a bit but I had torn my pants and was quite dirty. When I arrived home, my dad was madder than I had ever seen him. He took a belt to me. I had never experienced this before. It seemed that the more I acted like a boy, the more trouble it caused. I was very confused and hurt.

The first week of sixth grade, my life seemed to change for the better. Everyone was supposed to write an essay about our favorite thing to do and read it to the class. A boy named Jerry read about a train layout that he had built in his basement. I had always loved trains, so, after class, I asked him about it. He invited me over to his house. We hit it off right away. We spent many hours playing with our trains and army men together. He was my first real boy friend. I really thought that I had turned the corner and was finally becoming the boy I was supposed to be.

During the last week of school as I was walking down the hall, Jerry ran up to me very excited.

“Johnny, we have to do this.”

“Do what.”

“They are passing out forms to apply to junior high sports. We just have to sign up for football together.”

Now Jerry was six inches taller and 50 pounds heavier than me. He was made for football. Me, I was more cheerleader material. But it was not the playing football that bothered me the most, it was going into boy’s locker rooms to dress that I was really afraid of. Now that terrified me. But Jerry was so excited that I could not turn him down. I took the form home. My dad was really happy that I was going out for a sport. So, I guess my dye was set.

During the middle of summer, my father gave me notice that we would be moving again before school started. I had very mixed emotions. I had finally made a good friend but we were now leaving. On the other hand, I would avoid sports and locker rooms. I felt that my ‘boying up’ was a failure.

Jerry and I said our farewells and we were now off to Indiana.