Rejected: The Story of Georgia Pine

In today's "Rejected," we're going back in time. Back to before Ms. Pink Jacket. Back before Maranda. Nope, we're going back to sixth grade and a story that helped shaped the long-standing friendship between myself and True.

In sixth grade, I had one thing on my mind outside of getting the best grades possible: girls. I guess you can credit it to my early puberty, but I had a different mindset than a lot of people in my grade. Whereas some of them were "dating" and whatnot, I had my eyes set on the whole shebang. It's the eye-setting that brings me to the story of Georgia Pine (Ed. Note: Name changed).

Georgia wasn't a particularly attractive young woman. I mean, we were all 11, 12 years old. No one was fully "attractive" at that stage. She often wore her hair either down and curly, or in big braids. A glasses wearing girl, Georgia often reminded me of a young Jurnee Smollett. So, to me, she was cute enough to consider talking to. I became enamored with her intellect, often challenging myself and those around her to think differently. I also became enamored with her because, like Ms. Pink Jacket some years later, I liked the challenge of dealing with someone who was on the same level as me, but still eons beyond me in some way.

Her parents were kind of loaded and she dated a (supposedly) troubled child named Kyle Steinbeck (Ed. Note: Name change), a white boy who looked like your stereotypical "problem child" in the late 90s, early 2000s. Kyle eventually got kicked out of school for bringing in knives and they distanced apart. I thought to myself, like a jackass, that this was my chance to get to know Georgia better and stop just pining for Ms. Pine.

Enter pre-teen True God, who tried to warn me to stay away from Georgia.

"She's not like us," True told me, referring to the fact that Georgia came from a different background than True and me. "See all those people around her? They're not like us, and they'll never be like us. Move on, Johnny."

Of course, I didn't listen. So, one day, after lunch, we all went to our social studies class. I began to argue with Georgia over a seat, like a dumbass. Eventually, I pushed up against her desk and she fell backwards out of her chair. This incited a brawl between myself and several of my classmates. I got some good hits in, but it was still five-on-one. True threw himself into the mix, practically swinging at everyone. We all were saved from legit hurting someone by our teacher, a young, Jewish, proto-hipster-of-a-teacher named Mr. Heinbacher (Ed. Note: Name changed).

A lanky man, Mr. Heinbacher somehow broke up the fray and almost suspended all of us. However, a few detentions later, things died down, as did my chances with Georgia. Did that stop me from still trying to make amends with her? Eh, somewhat. I realized that True was right. Georgia wasn't like him or me, and neither were some of her friends. It was here that I really felt that whole "class difference" thing people often go through when they're on a different socioeconomic level than a peer. Georgia and her family had money and, because of that, Georgia sometimes, seemingly, looked down on those who didn't. I came from the bottom and had to be a man before my time, so I came off as weird and awkward (and fiscally poor).

All in all, it was doomed from the start.

Over the years, I actually linked up/tried to link up with Georgia a few times. The last time, she was, ironically enough, supposed to shoot a video for me and True during our early DAR days. But, I learned that some things, no matter how much you'd like them to be a thing, can never be a thing. Georgia and I were never destined to be friends, really. And, because of that, I ended up linking up with True and, a decade-plus later, the man's one of my go-tos for just about anything. So, even in catching an L--and some punches to the gut--I got my W.

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