4-24-92

I was thumbing through my old yearbooks the other day to show my girlfriend Sarah what I used to look like, and when we got to page I was on, I began reading the names down to mine. Kass, Kawwell, Kazanda, Kelbaugh....Kazanda? Chryssi Kazanda? Boy did she and I have some times together! As Sarah thumbed through the other yearbooks laying on the bed, I escaped to my memories for a few minutes.

I remember meeting Chryssi. I had gone to choir class for the first time in the middle school and all the girls went to lunch together. I sat down by myself-I always do-and þsheþ followed me. I looked at this girl who was wearing all the right clothes, had the perfect blonde hair, and I asked,

"Why are you sitting here?"

"Because I feel like it, okay?" she snapped back.

"Okay," I whimpered. But I was happy to have company. Lunch was lonely because the few friends I had didn't share my lunch period. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, so she wouldn't notice, then quietly followed her back to the choir room. Our seats were close together so I tried to talk to her.

"Hi, I'm Jennie."

"I'm Chryssi. You've got a decent singing voice. Why doesn't anyone else talk to you?"

She was blunt, but that just made our friendship simpler. She always told me exactly what she thought. Soon we were inseparable, or so I thought. We had our ups and downs, but I always gave in to her in the end. She seemed popular and I figured that if I hung out with her long enough, I would be too.

There was a time, not long after we became friends, that I received an anonymous note in my locker. It was details on how to become `popular'. How to cut and wear my hair, how to go about getting makeup, and to get rid of my coke-bottle glasses in favor of contacts. It was even in an outline form. I. Tips on your hair, II. Tips for makeup, III. Other things to change, etc. It was SO embarrassing. I couldn't believe my friends were doing this to me. Of course, they didn't know I knew they wrote it. `They' were Chryssi's cohorts: Cindy, Dawn, and Sarah. (Thank God Sarah has changed. I wouldn't have her here in my room right now if she hadn't.) Chryssi had been hinting around about me getting my hair cut, so I put two and two together and found out that she and some friends had written the note.

Even though the thought of cutting my hair really upset me, I did it. I had my hair chopped into a Farrah Fawcet look, and curled it every morning. It was a bitch, but if that was what it took to be popular, I would gladly do it. By a stroke of luck, my glasses broke, and Mom decided I could have contacts. Chryssi seemed to like the `improvements', so I thought, "Wow, now everyone will like me!"

But they didn't. I got a second anonymous note soon after, and it was worse than the first. It said I was definitely improving, but I still needed makeup, and it suggested colors and brands for me to try. It was the same outline form, except it was all about makeup. I. Blushes, II. Eyeshadows and eyeliner, III. Lipsticks/ glosses, and IV. Foundation/ base. Chryssi had gone too far this time! I complained directly to her about it, and things went haywire!

"Chryssi, Mom won't let me buy ANY makeup," I whined.

"So don't tell her. My God, Jennie, you can be such a baby sometimes. Just use your allowance and don't tell her."

"I have to use it to buy my lunches, though."

"So skip lunch for a while. It won't kill you. I do it all the time. Just think how much better you'll look with makeup."

"I can't, Chryssi! Mom'll catch me. You don't understand what she'll do."

"Don't bother me then, I can't do anything. And besides, I didn't write any dumb note about your looks anyway, so what do I care?"

"You ... BITCH!" I yelled, "I can't believe you'd lie like that! You wrote that note and you know it!" I began to sob and it only got worse.

"Cry baby, cry baby..." she sang. She knew just how to upset me, and once again, it worked. Then her friends all joined in and I ran off to get away.

We eventually resolved the makeup issue, but I felt the shockwaves from it for quite a while after. One day Chryssi and I went to the 7-Eleven store after school to get candy and junk food, and I saw her putting gum into her pocket as we walked toward the door. I couldn't believe one of my friends was shoplifting!

"Chryssi, aren't you going to pay for that?" I hissed as we reached the door.

"Shhhh ... leave me alone," she said under her breath, "and don't tell."

I just couldn't do it. I couldn't let her get way with her plan. When she opened the door, I said, "Chryssi, don't forget to pay for that gum in your pocket."

She whipped around, glared at me with that "drop dead" look, then sweetly said, "Why, I thought you had paid for it. Pay him now."

"No," I said, " You pay for it."

"Fine, I will."

She didn't speak to me for days after that. Meanwhile I started wondering how much of her stuff was stolen. Her parents were rich, why did she need to steal? But she eventually came around, I think it was because she liked the idea of me doing anything she asked.

The last time Chryssi and I really spoke to each other was right after I got out of the hospital for an appendectomy. Dad had just told me we were moving to practically another state, and I was on the verge of freaking out. I called her and asked if she could come over and talk with me, but she ended up getting me to come over there instead. Apparently she had to clean house, and she said I could keep her company. My father dropped me off as soon as I got off the phone.

When Chryssi answered the door, I got a whiff of the most foul stench I had ever smelled.

"Crys, what's that smell?"

"Oh some of the guys came over last night and we had some beers, no biggie."

"What did your parents say?"

"They aren't here. They'll be in Mexico City until tomorrow afternoon. Plenty of time to clean up."

"Jesus Christ! I hope you can get rid of the smell by then. It Reeks!"

"One guy spilled. It'll come out. Don't be such a pain. Come on in."

"Did Mike spill?" I asked. Mike was her 19 year old boyfriend, and he was a slob.

"No, he didn't. Some of his friends did, ok? Now, are you coming in?"

I walked in, but Chryssi stayed in the doorway. "Jen, you won't mind if I ask you to help out will you?" she purred, "Just vacuum the living room, ok? I am gonna get some carpet cleaner for upstairs."

"What happened?"

"Mike tracked in mud on my mom's bedroom carpeting."

"Why was he up there?"

"Come on Jen, get real. You know why."

"Hurry back Crys. I really need to talk to you."

With that, she was out the door. We never did talk that day, and I don't think we ever got rid of the smell of the brewery either, but she thought it was good enough, so I left. I had ended up cleaning most of her house for her, because she was on the phone with her other friends. Once again, I had fallen into a trap of hers.

I moved away a few months later and while we were unpacking, the phone rang.

"I'll get it!" I yelled. "Hello?"

"'Jen there?"

"Chryssi?"

"Yeah- can we talk?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Remember Dylan?"

"The hunk from choir?"

"Yeah, well... we uh ... kinda went to this party ... and um, well I got drunk, and uh had sex."

"Chryssi!" I cried. "What about Mike?"

"I didn't tell him...do you think I should have an abortion?"

"You're pregnant? Didn't you use protection?"

"I was drunk, damn it! How was I supposed to think of a rubber, when I couldn't even see straight?"

"I don't know what you should do. Have you told your parents?"

"Are you nuts? They'd kill me!"

"Well, I don't know what you should do. Try talking to the counselor at school or something, I guess."

"Lotta help you are Jen. I thought I could count on you to help me, but I guess I was wrong. BYE!"

Just like that, she hung up on me. I found out later from a friend that she did get the abortion, and then she really went downhill. Through the grapevine I heard that she had started smoking pot and doing acid. Soon after, her grades fell into the pits and she almost dropped out. She also hung out with real losers and was always getting suspended. I don't know if losing the baby made her do it, or if she had been on her way downhill and I just hadn't noticed, or if our phone call was the last straw. I miss some of the times she and I had, but I think our friendship was doomed from the beginning. She and I were too different to remain friends for long. All her `crew' didn't follow in her footsteps, and a couple of them stayed in touch with me long after Chryssi was a distant memory.

Sarah was kind of one of those people although she had never known Chryssi. She was a follower, but of a different group of people. She never spoke to me much until we went to college, but now we are real buddies. She came down to visit two days ago, and she wanted to rehash old times. That's why the old yearbooks were out.

I looked up from my reverie and Sarah was speaking to me.

"Huh?"

"I said, Who is this girl next to you in the yearbook? I can't remember her name."

She was pointing to Chryssi. I began to laugh, and between giggles, I said, "That's Chryssi - boy we could talk about her for a long time. As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about her."

Sarah and I talked for a long time about Chryssi, and I realized that there's a Chryssi in every clique, no matter how prestigious, and we laughed for a long time.

Jennifer Kelbaugh

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