All I Wanted Was to Be Susan’s Friend and to Own a Pony
If I met Susan today, fifty-four years after she crushed me, I wonder whether she would even remember me.
I doubt it, but I remember her.
I would ask her why she asked me to share a bunk bed with her on a school trip, only to dump me at the last minute for another girl. Did she know what that did to my confidence and self-esteem? Did she care?
Susan was in my class at school, and she was the kind of girl I wanted to be.
Popular, outgoing, always had an entourage of girls around her. Plus, she had a pony.
The sort of girl that teenage adventure stories are written about.
I wanted to be part of…
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