Let's pretend it's 1995 and I'm still living in my hometown where guns, gangs and drugs are commonplace yet I don't feel unsafe or understand yet that this isn't what every other high school or town is like. You only know what you know. This time-travel Li.st is brought to you by @Diplomatic_diva request.
  1. A little background is necessary.
    I spent most of my time in high school trying to find a place to belong. I didn't. I floated between two groups, the super smart and the super not-smart. There was no middle that I could find until my last year and by then I embraced not belonging.
  2. There was a new girl at school and for some reason we hit it off right away. Maybe it's because we both dressed alike - like we're extras in an Aaliyah video (no bare midriff, though. More like tomboy-Aaliyah)
  3. One day this friend strong-armed my best friend and I into the nearest washroom.
  4. She asks us to join her in the stall.
  5. My best friend and I looked at it each and laughed.
  6. We go in because we're naive and really what can three girls do in a bathroom stall?
    Again. Naive.
  7. She says to put you hand in and opens her backpack. My best friend offers her hand and goes in. I study the look on her face and I can tell she is confused and intrigued.
  8. The friend is laughing and takes out the gun that was wrapped in a piece of cloth and she passes to me. I hold it, noting how much heavier it is than what I thought. But I had never thought about holding a gun before.
    Flashes of New York Undercover washes over me.
  9. My best friend's eye widens and she says "fuck, I was playing with the trigger!?"
    No information is offered on if the gun is loaded. We forget to ask.
  10. I ask "where did you get this," she matter -of-factly replies "it's my brother's gun"
  11. I ask "but how did he get it" she replies "I'm American remember" and laughs
    Note: this is a Canadian high school and she just moved here from Florida.
  12. The story checks out. I'm not longer interest in how he gun came to be in my hands. I'm holding it still trying make some sense of what this moment means.
    There is a moment that I think this is cool. There is moment that I'm scared. There is a moment that I'm hoping to leave the stall as soon as I can.
  13. I don't remember how we put things back, the gun in the backpack and our innocence to where it was.
  14. We leave the stall. We laugh in the bathroom about it and perhaps something else as well.
  15. We don't talk about it after. My best friend and I remain friendly with her but not too friendly. What the hell are you going to do when the girl has easy access to a gun? You play nice and walk backwards... slowly.