Growing up I was always the guy that stuck up for everybody. For some reason when my buddies, actually anyone, picked on someone or teased a bullied kid, I'd stop it. I wasn't trying to be a hero, it bothered me.
One girl in particular seemed to get harassed more than anyone else. Her name was Debbie and she was a thin, pale, redheaded white girl with a ton of freckles. Maybe she got teased because our school was full of Latinos, like me. But after stepping into rescue her once again from some assholes, I made an announcement.
"From now on everybody needs to know that if you fuck with Debbie, you're fucking with me."
As if to test me, I heard a voice behind me.
"Puto, I'll fuck with whoever I want!" I turned and saw an upper classman talking his shit. Without a moment's hesitation I punched him in the face, connecting with his glass jaw, and he dropped like a rock in a swimming pool.
I looked around. No one else said a word.
Pretty much from then on Debbie was untouchable and people left her alone. She even came out of her shell. We'd say "hi" when we passed reach other, but never were overly friendly.
Time passed and finally, high school graduation came. After the festivities were over, Debbie, still a thin, pale, redheaded white girl with a ton of freckles approached me.
"I should have told you this a long time ago, thank you. You saved my life." She shyly kissed me, then she walked away. I thought to myself that Debbie would be okay.
Twenty five years pass. Army, work, marriage, kids, kids grown up, divorce. That summarizes my life. No complaints, life was good, I had a small, but highly successful business that basically ran itself, the ex was happy with her new husband, the kids were educated and successful.
In early spring, I get a call from a classmate I hadn't seen in years. I was told that there was a high school class reunion in the works and could they plan on me coming?
No hesitation, "Count me in."
The reunion was several months down the road. I had always been in decent shape, but now I had a goal. I wanted to look good so I started running and working out steadily. By the time of the gathering, I felt better than I had in years.
Finally. The. Day. Arrived.
The morning of the reunion I looked at the itinerary. The day would start with a late lunch at 1:00 p.m., happy hour at 6:00 p.m., dinner and a dance to follow.
At lunch I saw people I hadn't seen in over two decades. I saw women that had aged well, and some that hadn't. Jocks that were fat, nerds that were rich, cool guys that weren't. All in all, being the humble person I am, I thought I had done okay and looked pretty damn good.
