Rumor

Rumor

Your monetary support of Writeropolis Industries is much appreciated. Anything you pop into my tip jar goes straight back into the growth of the network. You may find yourself name-dropped in an episode of Raconteuse Radio if you do!

What biological imperative makes us want to consume rumors?

That’s what I want to know.

Secrets, lies, videotape. We feel superior to those who perpetrate illicit situations that have nothing to do with us. Depending on the person, it may trigger their downfall. It may bounce off like a red rubber ball in a locker room. If you know, you know.

I never liked rumors.

What I understood from a young age is that I didn’t like to be on the receiving end and even as a child, I knew that if I spoke on it, then it would come back to me. Bullies will be bullies, and there will always be someone to receive the brunt end of the stick.

But believing that you were above something never stopped that thing.

You could call me a quiet child but I had obsessions. One of my first was a maddening crush on a boy in middle school. He was my type when I didn’t even know what my type was.

What is it about junior high and selling edible flowers made of candy? I received one from him in eighth grade to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

I was over the moon, to say the least.

The delivery happened in a class that I didn’t have with him. We had many together because we both were in the school band. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it because something about it wasn’t right.

And my gut was correct. My supposed best friends at the time bought it for me and signed his name.

The worst part of it is that once they cracked under the pressure of holding in the secret for too long, they took the flower back. That’s right; they didn’t even let me have the candy. Those bitches.

I said what I said.

It takes me a minute to catch on to things. I rarely offer knee-jerk reactions. I’m serious when I say that their cruelty went over my head at the time. I brushed it off and went about my day.

I guess they thought I was going to become a gooey example of preteen hormonal energy so that they could say in front of everyone in class that no, you idiot, we bought it for you.

It didn’t hit me until much later that their mean-spirited prank was meant to hurt me to my core. I couldn’t understand why they would do such a thing. I had never done anything but be a loyal friend. I would never in a million years follow through on such a vicious prank if the idea ever popped into my brain.

We went our separate ways at the end of that year. The main perpetrator and I went to the same high school but we never spoke again. Last I heard, she started having kids before we graduated and worked at Arby’s to support her family.

I hope she’s well, but I also hope she knows that I remember what she did. I’ll never forget it. It didn’t shape me but it became another memory associated with such a meaningful time. I wish it hadn’t but it’s funny what unburies itself with enough time and space.

tree branch

Level up your day with an often-imitated, never duplicated aural transmission from Raconteuse Radio!

logo of raconteuse radio

This tiny — but mighty — podcast celebrates the oral delivery of the written word. My goal is to showcase and chat with emerging & established writers at all stages of their careers and probe the minds of unshakable industry folks to show us how to become published poets and authors.

Want to be featured? Submit your pitch!

Back to Top