Wednesday, Jun. 23, 2004 - 11:13 A.M.

First grade. I have good memories of drawing and finger painting and the smell of rubber cement glue. I remember classmates that made me laugh. I remember my teacher, Mrs. Hill, who seemed to me as old as the hills, yet was probably only 30 or so. I remember the cafeteria and having cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches for lunch. And then, I have these memories�

One day we had some sort of written test thingy. That sounds vague, I know. I don�t remember what the test was about, or if it was even a test at all. I just remember the teacher asking us some questions and us having to write something down. All the kids are writing, all very excited to be using their brand spankin� new large ruled notebooks and huge fat pencils. We all felt so grown up! Except for �Billy� who was feeling something different. Billy was picking his nose. Not uncommon for 6 years old. In fact, there was probably more than one jealous kid wishing they too could pick their nose at that moment. After finishing the assignment we were told to put our papers in our desks. Some of you reading might not be old enough to remember when desks actually opened up, from the top. It was super cool. The 70�s were keen.

Later that day after searching for Indian money, having graham crackers and Kool-Aid and taking a nap (good times!), the teacher asked for our papers. I opened my super cool desk to find my paper missing. What!? I looked everywhere! In my Wonder Twins (activate!) lunchbox and in my Holly Hobbie book bag, all to no avail. I even checked my Hulk pencil case. It was gone. As papers are being handed in, I see Billy turning one in. Hmm�during the assignment he was knuckle deep, how could he have a paper to turn in? As I later discovered, he had taken my paper, erased my name (not very well I might add) written his own and turned it in. Billy�s life of crime started early and apparently his technique never improved. I ran into a classmate several years ago who told me that Billy is currently in a correctional facility in Nebraska. For forgery.

In our classroom we had a bathroom/storage area located at the back of the room. After asking the teacher if I could go I made my way to the back of the room, stepped inside and closed the bathroom door. What happened next is, frankly, a mystery. I still don�t know how it occurred. Somewhere between climbing onto the big girl potty (aided by a Muppets stepping stool), doing my business and finishing up, my Strawberry Shortcake panties disappeared. They were literally nowhere to be found. Frantic and scared to death (because as a 6 year old girl you simply must have panties. And Strawberry Shortcake to boot!), I looked everywhere. Behind the blue Hot Wheels case and the Barbie Glamour Head. Behind the box of Kabangers and Twinkies. Not there! I suspected Billy immediately. Soon, however, my 6 year old mind came to understand that could not be, as Billy was back at his desk and, back to picking his nose. I believe my panties were flushed down the toilet. Which means I must have flushed them. Obviously, I was in some sort of fugue state. I seriously do not know how it happened that they went missing. As yet, it's still an unsolved mystery.

At 6, Billy�s skills at deception had not yet been honed razor sharp. He was busted that afternoon for cheating. I gave deception a go of my own upon arriving home where I tried very hard to hide the fact I had somehow during the day lost my panties. Despite my lies, my mother quickly registered this fact. She asked questions and I had no answers beyond, �I don�t know� and �I think Billy did it.� As you can imagine, that got quite a response. And a visit to the school. Whereupon the teacher was told I had come home without my underwear. And, inadvertently, so was the rest of the class. My mother didn�t care about anyone else knowing though. She just wanted to know how the hell it had happened that I had left the house that morning with panties and came home with none.

At six years old, I think she figured that didn�t bode well for the kind of girl I�d grow up to be.

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� Purplecigar

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