Rarely were there situations for which kindness was unfit. It was not my nature nor my ambition to be mean to people who were younger or less fortunate than I; moreover, I remembered the instances wherein I had been subjected to cruelty simply because I was too small to fight back. Never would I forget the nasty sixth grader whose ultimate pleasure came by way of bullying younger students; having a keen sense of hearing and disliking noise of any kind, my entire composure was shattered when he blasted in my ears at the top of his lungs. Completely unnerved, I can recall cupping my hands around my red knit hat and running toward home as the cold wind nipped and stung my tear-filled eyes. Such alarming treatment filled me with terror; I was worried that my fear alone would tempt the bully to commit further torment. The instance also made me despise the boy; his unfair treatment did not serve to heighten his image in my eyes. Abuse did not merit respect; however, it swept the disillusionment from my mind regarding the idolization of an individual for his age or his popularity, for too often an individual was placed on a pedestal, only to evoke disappointment. Smiles and genuine kindness won infinitely more respect. Few grade school students possessed the maturity to develop and maintain a true friendship. Many were too concerned about pleasing the popular crowd to reserve definite bonds for another individual, because, if the popular crowd was mad at someone, most of the others desired the same opportunity. I learned about the existence of false friends, individuals who virtually ignored the less popular students until three days prior to a test. This type of person would then take pains to be sweet and gush with special affections, adding to his repertoire a request for one's notes or the answers to certain homework assignments. Disliking a farce, I always refused, whereupon I would be incinerated, reduced to ashes by the fire in the individuals eyes. The flame-thrower did not burn me, however; as he'd never liked me anyway, I suffered no loss. I discovered, also, the distastefulness of playing the "second fiddle." Having my pride, I did not accept after-thought invitations unless I felt that my time would be enjoyably spent. One girl who was particularly noted for her "use" of others would often call as a last resort; a mannerless individual, she made the mistake of rambling off the names of her refusals when asking another person to accompany her on an outing. A classic phone call ran as follows: "Laurie? This is L. I was wondering if you could go to the fireworks tonight...I already called D, J, L., etc., but none of them could go...aw, come on!..." Sometimes it was fun to say "no." Moreover, I had better things to do.