My brother didn’t want me kidding myself. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and told me, ‘the world is made up of tall people, short people, white people, black people—Native people. You are what you are. You can spend the rest of your life wanting to be something else. Or you can accept who you are and be a happy person who will bring love and happiness to others. You can choose for yourself.’”
When I stepped from the classroom into the hallway, somehow, it seemed more crowded with kids even shorter and smaller than last year. Was it because I was feeling self-conscious about being a head taller than most of them?
As two girls passed, I heard their giggles.
“Did you see her? She’s so tall!”
“She’s almost a giant,” the other girl snickered.
I fought back embarrassed tears. Why did I grow so tall over the summer?
In the lunch area, my friends from last year, Rita and April, looked up at me as we met in a flurry of quick greetings. When Rita shaded her eyes to look up, I moved aside, putting my back toward the sun to give her some shadow as she glanced upward.
It was different looking down at my friends. It was really different being able to see over their heads. It seemed only a short moment before my two friends exchanged fidgety glances and left in a rush. The day was ruined! The whole year was ruined!
Feeling abandoned and fighting back tears, I pretended everything was normal until the long, first day back to school ended. Then I hurried home and threw myself on my bed and let my tears flow.
“Oh God,” I whispered, “I’m totally out of place and so different now. Why did I have to grow so tall?”
Something warm and fluffy brushed against me. “Hi, Maggie,” I said, ruffling the fur of my orange cat. “You’re small and cuddly. And I’m like Gulliver in Gulliver’s Travels. I feel like a giant!”
Maggie rubbed against me, purring softly, and I smiled through my tears. “I’m suffering and you want to be petted. You’re unbelievably selfish, but I love you anyway.”
A knock sounded at my door. Mike, my seventeen-year-old brother, stuck his head in the doorway.
“I couldn’t help overhearing. You love me even though I’m unbelievably selfish. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I picked up a pillow and hurled it at him. “Ooh, you weren’t supposed to be listening!”
Mike caught the pillow. His smile disappeared as he examined it. “Someone,” he said seriously, “has been crying on your pillow.”
I concentrated on picking invisible specks of lint from my jeans.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I think I can guess,” Mike said.
“No, you can’t. Nobody understands what I’m going through, not even you.”
“Well, I’m still a teenager.” Mike grinned teasingly. “Even though I look and act like a dashing young warrior.”
“You’re a boy!”
“Sometimes, but I am especially sensitive. Being short and cute and sensitive has its advantages.”
I still didn’t look at him as I mumbled, “Well, being taller than anybody else in the class when you’re a girl has no advantages I can see. Starting with your short friends not liking you anymore.”
For a while there was more silence. I gazed up into Mike’s understanding brown eyes.
“Remember last year,” he asked, sitting beside me, “when I had that physical before I became a church camp counselor for the boys?”
I nodded.
“That’s when I asked Dr. Johnson a question I’d been worried about for years. I was so nervous.” Mike smiled at his memory.
“But I had to know. ‘Doc,’ I said, ‘I’m one of the shortest guys in my class and I feel lousy about it. Am I going to grow anymore?’”
“What did he say?”
“He showed me a growth pattern chart and told me I was in about the tenth percentile. That means 90 percent of the guys my age would be taller than me. Since I’d passed my growth spurt, I probably wouldn’t grow a lot taller. He said he wouldn’t recommend a career in basketball!”
I was astonished. “What a terrible thing to say!”
“Not really,” Mike said. “He was being honest. He didn’t want me kidding myself. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and told me, ‘the world is made up of tall people, short people, white people, black people—Native people. You are what you are. You can spend the rest of your life wanting to be something else. Or you can accept who you are and be a happy person who will bring love and happiness to others. You can choose for yourself.’”
For a while, I didn’t say anything. Then I whispered, “That’s deep!”
“Right,” Mike said getting up. “I’ll never forget it. That’s why you see me as I am. On the small side, but otherwise perfect.” He beckoned to me playfully. “Stand up. Now, look at you,” he said drawing close, “you aren’t as tall as I am. You’re a shrimp.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m a giant. The other girls think I’m a freak.”
“They’re probably wishing they were taller,” Mike said with a mischievous chuckle. “They know you’ll be great in sports like basketball and soccer and don’t forget track.”
“Oh, sure!”
“It’s true.” Mike smiled and headed for the door. “We older people know these things!”
“Thank You Jesus,” I said with a deep sigh. “Thank you for giving me an understanding brother like Mike. He’s just what I needed today.”
I took out my homework and laid it on my desk.
Then the phone rang. “Hi, Sandy. It’s Rita.”
“Oh, hey Rita,” I said cautiously.
“Sorry we had to dash away so quickly at noon.” Rita hurried on, “We had to rush to the library to check out some books for an assignment. How about eating lunch with us tomorrow and we’ll get caught up on what’s been going on?”
“Well, sure,” I said. I’d been wrong about the girls! “I’ll see you at lunch.”
