There was one year when I was considered popular by some: sixth Grade. Instead of the knee-length dresses my grandmother had forced me to wear in earlier grades, I started dressing like a normal pre-teen, donning "Madonna pants" and tank tops. As a result of this, I finally attracted the attention of the boy that I'd had a crush on since the fourth grade, Ryan V. Going around with Ryan launched me into a whole 'nother social stratus. Even though I wasn't loose enough for him at the age of 11 and I eventually lost him to a French girl that came to our school midway through the first trimester, I was already on the A-list at Dixie Canyon Avenue Elementary School.


Every year, a different grade would put on the school production so that during your years at the school, you should be in at least 2 or 3 of them. That year it was the sixth grade's turn to perform a very strange medley of different plays with a circus theme. I got the only singing solo in the whole play. This following my triumphant win at the school spelling bee. I tell you, I was on top of the world in my ballerina costume squeaking out the lyrics to, "Love Makes the World Go Round," from Carousel. In fact, the French girl, Valia, who had stolen Ryan was one of my back up ballerinas. Touché, mon cherie.

The day after the performance, I was happily buzzing about the four square court with my usual team, my three best friends. While we waited for our turn, Steve M, one of the guys in my larger circle even though he'd been consistently tormenting me for three years, approached me. He was a big boy, already taller than everyone else in our class. He came with a small posse of other cool guys.

"Hey Bianca," he said. "Guess what I saw yesterday?"
"What?" I said, half laughing, expecting a joke forthcoming.
"Your right boob."
My face dropped completely. "You're lying. There's no way."
"No I'm not. You were changing in the classroom and the blinds were open. I saw it." His posse chuckles in a mocking way.
"No way, you're totally lying." My best girlfriends nodded in agreement with me.
"Really? You put on that ballet dress thing and you were trying to pull your shirt over your head and your boob was showing."
I began to turn red, realizing that Steve, one of the most merciless boys in our class, had actually seen my bare, completely flat right breast. He was never going to let me live it down.
"Ha ha. He saw your boobie! He he he. Boo-bie, boo-bie," the posse's refrain began. They pinched their shirts at the nipple level and held them out to indicate breasts.

The rumor spread like wildfire and soon all of the sixth grade knew that Steve had seen my right nipple. A few girls were symphathetic, thanking the heavens that they weren't me. But mostly, everyone was laughing. I tried to deny it and tell everyone he was lying, but they all knew it was true. I was completely mortified.

Despite my chagrin, however, my social status was never better. In fact, it was the year we started playing Spin the Bottle and Truth or Dare after school in my grandmother's Recreation Room down the street from Dixie. We were always a group of four or five sitting in the dark, at least two boys, often including Steve.

That year, I learned a little something about what it meant to be popular. But that was really the last time that I had any reason to care.