Ariana A. Rivera

Prof. von Uhl

ENGL 11000 CN3

2/2/20

Personal Narrative 

Dear Imani, 

I find myself remembering the day we “fought” more vividly now that I have reflected on what happened. You had bothered me for some time after a friend of yours said I had been mean to them. You had threatened to fight on numerous occasions leading up to what happened but, I never really took your threats seriously. Besides, we had been friends for a long time before eventually drifting apart that year and I couldn’t fathom thinking that you would purposefully bring me any harm. I met you in the first grade and after that initial meeting we were inseparable, we’d tell each other scary stories and pretend to be vampires and werewolves. We’d talk to each other all the time in class, constantly getting in trouble with the teachers for it. I think it’s not that unjustified to say that at the time, I considered you to be my best friend. 

I can’t remember exactly what caused us to drift apart. My best guess though is that you had changed a bit after being in a different class than me during the fourth grade and fifth grade. You were getting into trouble almost on a daily basis and seemed to care less and less about school. After that, you pretty much stopped talking to me altogether even in lunch or recess when we actually saw each other.  Maybe, in your eyes, I had grown too boring and could not amount to all your new friends. Which leads me to fifth-grade recess where you decided to cross the line with your taunts. I was standing with my friends in the middle of the schoolyard. It was a warm day that still possessed some remnants of summer being that it was late September and fall had not yet arrived. You walked up to me with your friends at your side. I recall being able to see the basketball hoop and the brick wall it rested on right above your head. 

I had my pink water bottle with black smiley faces in my hand because for some reason I always carried it around with me whenever I went to the girl’s yard. You went on for a little while once again trying to egg me on into saying something back, but I would not. I recall hearing the younger girls playing tag around us, the birds chirping cheerfully, and your words holding the least of my attention. However, then you said something that if not mentioned I probably wouldn’t have retaliated in the first place. You called me buck teeth and if there was one thing I was most insecure about was my teeth. They were so severe and painfully obvious that I had trouble closing my mouth. It was the first thing everyone noticed when they laid eyes on me and it was the one thing I constantly had to explain. So, at that moment I did not think about the repercussions of my actions nor the punishment that would certainly follow, but how angry it made me feel.  

I hit you in the face with my water bottle and I’m not sure how hard I did nor if the plastic hurt at all, but I did it anyway. You then proceeded to punch me in the shoulder, which by the way did not hurt nearly as much as you seemed to think. At that point, people were noticing the altercation and someone ran to Sister Francis to tell her we had gotten into a fight. The bell then rang alerting us that it was time to go back to class, but Sister Francis stopped us to give us detention. I was mortified since I had never served any detentions before, but you, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased by it. When my teacher, Mr. Brown came to pick up the class he told me that he would’ve never thought I’d end up getting detention in the first place. Sister Francis then let you go back to class but made me stay behind.

I sobbed while explaining to her why I hit you. Above all else, I was frightened over what my mom would say and how disappointed she would be. Now though, I’m not by any means proud of what I did, I know for a fact that I made my explanation seem far sadder than it actually was. I brought up my parents’ divorce (which did not bother me in the slightest) and cried even more upon realizing that I could not receive first honors.  Then, somehow by the grace of God himself, all of my sobbing and pleading worked. I only had to serve one detention while you served two. Maybe, Sister Francis believed my sob story or saw how pathetic I was, but either way, I ended up far better than you in terms of consequences. After that, you never bothered me again and in a way, we worked things out. To say I regret what I did would be a lie so mostly I just hold on to this story for its memorability and the fact that every time I tell it people always seem so surprised. I sincerely hope you’re doing well wherever you are now, but also that you’ve learned your lesson and aren’t out there bothering some other unsuspecting girl. I hope life is treating you well and wish you all the best.

Yours truly,

Ariana A. Rivera

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