Last night, my sister and I were having a long conversation about various topics. In the course of it, I brought up the most hideous thing I've ever said to someone in my entire life. As much as I'm willing to own it and as it will haunt me into my grave, I will not repeat what I said. However, the person to whom I said it was a boy named Doy Davis, another member of the Quick Recall Team.
He'd been needling me all day about something or other, and as much as I can remember, it all started because he was lobbying Hopkins along the lines that I wasn't all that smart. They were friends and I was shaping up as competition, so yes, it was stupid juvenile jealousy. He was at it again by the time I boarded the bus for the tournament, so in a flash of white-hot anger, I turned around and leveled the nastiest coup de grace I've ever delivered.
The enormity of hit hit me immediately; mortified, I pivoted on my heel and instead of taking my usual seat with Hopkins, I retreated to the back of the bus. I didn't talk to or interact with anyone for the rest of the night, except to answer questions during the matches. I resumed my exile for the trip home.
I cautioned my sister to listen carefully, because I would never again repeat what I said to Doy. It's impossible to shock her, but I watched as her eyes flew open and her jaw dropped. She couldn't believe it. "And you delivered it in that cold, flat voice, didn't you- the one that you only use when you're beyond angry." Of course. I had sliced through him as cleanly as if I'd run him through with a sword, and left him to bleed to death all over the aisle of the bus.
To paraphrase Andrew Jackson, may God forgive me, for Doy never shall- and I can't blame him. I can't forgive myself. It was monstrous. I refused Holy Communion for six months afterward because the sheer sin of it weighed me down like a stone.
I have set a timeline to complete this tour de force of my adolescence: it all drops dead in a year and a day from my fortieth birthday. I won't forget, but I think the time is fast approaching when I will no longer want to talk about it anymore.