Catherine Adams

Ah Catherine. What isn't there to say?

When dwelling on the memorable events of my primary school years I can't not mention dear Catherine. She was a pretty blonde girl and we were best friends.
I don't know what year we were in when this first thing happened, but it was definitely primary school sometime. We'd been on a trip (or we leaving to go on one) and were on a coach. Catherine and me were seated together when she suddenly leaned over and kissed me. I reacted, like anybody else would, and said loudly what are you doing? She shushed me and whispered that it was okay, nobody could see us. She might have kissed me again and I guess I liked it.
After that during playtime we would often go and hide in the thick hedges that lined the field on the playground so nobody could see us and just sit there kissing each other.

I wore glasses as a child and had lovely thick framed red ones (I liked them at the time). One day Catherine asked to try them one. Me being the innocent little thing that I was kindly let her. And they did look kind of good on her. She said she wanted to keep them. I told her my mum wouldn't be happy about that and I needed them back. Catherine said she'd given them back tomorrow. Of course when I went home that day my mum was rather unimpressed when I confessed to having given my glasses to my friend. She told me they cost a lot of money and I needed to get her to give them back. Luckily for me Catherine did return them.

One day Catherine came round my house to play and we went up to my room. Now out of all my older cousins only one is female (me and my sisters are the youngest of the lot). My aunt had kindly sent over a couple of black bin bags of clothes which Fiona had grown out of for us to have whatever we wanted out of. This day was shortly afterwards. Catherine inquired about the bags, opening one. So I told her and kindly offered that she could have anything from them if she wanted. But not these I'd said, indicating a lovely dark green velvet skirt and sweater which was draped over my chair because they were mine, I'd already picked those.
So immediately she set her sights on that outfit and said but she wanted it. I said she couldn't have it. What about anything else in the bag? Catherine said she would just take it anyway. I said I'd tell mum and dad. She then said she'd tell them I said she could have it. I loudly, horrified cried but I didn't.
So we went downstairs and things played out. Do you know what still hurts the most about this?
My parents believed that bitch over me, their own daughter. I insisted I'd never said she could have the outfit and they just told me I shouldn't have said she could have it in the first place. It wasn't fair to say something and then just change my mind about it. So that scum sucking liar walked out with my beautiful new second hand outfit. I bothered her about it for ages after that at school and eventually Catherine confessed that she had chucked it out because she didn't like it. I hollered at her then what did you take it for in the first place? She just shrugged.
My mum later said that because she was my friend they pretty much believed the sun shined out of her butt (I'm paraphrasing).
I never even got to wear that outfit once.

Oh but that's not all. The Catherine saga has one more chapter.
So we were playing round her house one day, the only time I ever went to hers. We were in her room playing Barbies and her step mum called her down. I wasn't going to go along but Catherine suggested that I should. We went down to the kitchen where a couple of glasses of squash were set out on the counter. I was thirsty and asked Catherine if one of them was for me but she wouldn't answer. I tried to get her to go and ask but she wouldn't do that either. I said how I didn't want to drink one if none of them were for me. Eventually she got fed up of me going on about it and shortly asked if I was going to have one or not. I elected not but she reasoned that if there wasn't one for me her step mum could always make another. So I drank one and we went back upstairs.
You can probably guess where this is going. Some time later step mum calls me down again. She asks if I had a juice. I said I did. She said what makes me think she'd made me one? I told her Catherine said it was okay to have one. So she calls her down too and of course, like the good friend she is, Catherine denies it. So step mum goes all guilt trip on me. Because of me Catherine's little brother will have to go thirsty blah blah blah. I turned to Catherine and exasperatedly said why didn't she just tell me? This is what I was trying to avoid. Step mum says I'm no longer welcome in their house. She won't have liars. I start to go back upstairs and she asks where I'm going. I say to get my stuff and step mum says Catherine will get it for me. Catherine begs her for five more minutes and she agrees. So we go back up to play for five more minutes.
Now Catherine has some cool Barbie kit that I'd never seen before such as a little bra and knickers and slightly different shaped high heel shoes. So as punishment for being a lying little bitch I tucked a few bits of her Barbie clothing into my bag when she wasn't looking. At that age stealing Barbie stuff is adequate punishment. As I was leaving Catherine said to me so I'll see you at school? Normal tone of voice as if nothing had happened. I replied I guess, in a rather dejected tone and left.
What I should have said is go suck a dick. I hope you rot in hell you little maggot.

As you can see I'm not bitter at all. We went to the same middle school as well, but ran in different social circles by then. In year 5 or 6 she left. Her dad was in the RAF and must have got reassigned because they moved back to her native Netherlands. On her last day Catherine and her girlfriends were crying and hugged each other goodbye. Due to how close we used to be I tried to hug her goodbye too, but each time she turned her back on me and ignored me.

She was an abusive manipulative little bitch and I hope I never see her again. Fuck you blondie and good riddance.