Damp Socks

So here’s a little story for you all, and a true one, that happened to me back in school. I thought you’d enjoy reading…

When I was in fifth year – that’s what? Eleventh grade to you lot across the pond? – I got a new camera. It was winter, and there was a thick coating of snow on the ground. Fresh snow. The kind you get excited to see, not the death harbouring slippery thin packed down snow that oozes death and chaos. So, the ground was pure white and I had a new camera.

My first instinct was to go and take some pretty pictures of it with my new camera at school at lunchbreak so, after asking a few people if they wanted to join me – and receiving a no – I pottered down to the wooded part just out of the school grounds, alone, yet ready to snap some pretty pictures for editting, because I’ve always pretty much been a proud geek. In hindsight, it does occur to me that, had I not gone alone, things might not have ended up the way they did.

So, at the base of the ground, there is a burn, or a small river, that runs parallel to the fence. There is a short few metres of ground that the burn sections off that runs along the fence till it reaches a large wall that separates the joining of the small bit of land back to the other side. The wall is unclimable.

On the other far end is a small raised lump of mud that, if taken with a running jump, you can leap across the burn and reach the small sectioned bit of land. The place is heavily wooded, though small, and a clearing within the trees boasted crisp packets, juice bottles, and the other evidence of youth activity. As you do.

So, I made my way across and, planning to sneak back into the grounds through one of the many holes in the fence, wandered across the snow and mud to reach the idea photo spots. Imagine my delight to find no-one else had wandered this way and the snow remained fresh, crisp, and unblemished. Perfect and still.

The photos turned out beautiful, but this was years ago and I don’t think I have them any more. Ah internet age; useful and practical, but so throw away. Eh, anyway, after taking a few, I decided I was too cold and wanted to head back into the school to heat myself up, maybe get some soup or something, and I looked back along the sliver of land, debating whether I wanted to go all the way back. I didn’t.

I walked the length of it, all the way to the tall red brick wall and sighed. Someone had either fixed the fence, or the snow, high as it was, had hidden the gaps from my sight. Again, I did not want to double back, so I resigned myself to climbing the chicken-wire fence back into the school grounds.

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

So, I pulled off my jacket, and bag and swung them over the fence, resourceful as I am. Freed up, I had more freedom to move and set to pulling myself up. The only problem with that remained that I had – and still have – absolutely no upper body strength. Ah, the perks of hating gym (No coordination, of course.) and constantly “losing” my gym kit. Nor could I gain grip or traction with my shoes. Thus, off they came as I am very, very, resourceful.

Turns out, chicken-wire fences hurt your toes if you try to climb up them barefoot. So there I stood, no shoes, no jacket, no bag, no common sense, and rapidly dampening socks. I pondered for a second and wracked my brain for something of an idea. Luckily, there was a large tree nearby with a convenient branch that grew up and over the fence. What luck!!! I instantly set to climbing it, white socks greening as I did so .

So, the funny thing about desperation is, one tends to forget important things, like a fear of heights say. Even five foot heights. Doesn’t help when one is short (5”2).

So there I am, wrapped around a tree branch like a runaway cat and gripping the branch in sheer panic, despite it’s low altitude, when behind me I hear.

“Ahem.”

Despite the quiet volume, I hear this cry of indignation quite clearly across the burn, and my head swivels around with venom. Bullied heavily in high school, I await the taunts, imagining what I am about to hear in this, most desperate, of times.

“Excuse me, what do you think you am doing?”

I answer, the only way I can.

“I’m fine. I’m just climbing a tree.”

It was all I could say. The woman standing across the river stops, tilts her head with confusion and then tries again.

“Why?”

Good question. And not exactly one that I had a sane answer too. I didn’t feel inclined to give a full explanation at that moment in time and so, sighing, I clambered down the branch I had become best friends with and back onto the damp ground.

“There,” I said. “I’m down.”

“Why were you climbing it? I work at this school and I want to know what you were doing.”

Oh joy, I thought. This is going to be a fun one. I try to shake her off.

“Yeah, I was just trying to get over the fence, I go to this school.”

“Oh really? Can you get across here I want to talk to you.”

Regretting that I didn’t just walk back in the first place, and propelled by indignation and exasperation for being hounded by this – clearly admin personell – whom I did not know. I stormed in my soggy socks back across, despite the nettles, with the fury only one with wet socks can achieve.

She met me at the junction as I hopped over and gasped.

“Oh. You have no shoes on.” She said, astute.

“Nope, I don’t.” I clarified. My tone devoid of emotion.

“W-where are they?”

“Over the fence.”

“Why?”

“I through them over.” I explained.

“Why?” Again, she asked.

“So I could climb the fence.” I revealed and offered a smile.

She paused for a few seconds, taking this in. I could tell from the expression on her face that she did not think me entirely sane. I waited for her to catch up.

“What’s your name?” She finally said.

Like hell was I giving her my real name, there was a good chance she’d phone home and I’d get yelled at for taking my shoes off and climbing trees, but the only name I could think of was another girl in my class. I will provide a pseudoname for safety reasons. Not hers, but my own. ;)

“Uhh, you’re not gonna tell on me are you?”

“Of course not. I just want to know.”

“Shawny Wilson.” I lied.

“Right.” She said. “And what class are you in?”

Again I lied. She gave a nod.

“Do you need help finding your shoes?” She asked.

“Nope.” I said. “Like I said, I threw them off the fence. They should still be there.”

“Okay…” she said, clearly worried for me. It was painfully difficult to keep a straight face.

I collected my things and headed back into the school with my damp socks.

Later that night, I was browsing the internet and generally ignoring the world when I heard a ding from MSN messenger (R.I.P.) and I glanced upon it to find that Shawny had found my Msn. Ah, no doubt through a mutual friend.

There was just the teeny tiniest issue. This Shawny girl did not entirely like me. I don’t think she really understood my quirks or my autism, but we live and learn. Regardless, I knew exactly why she was messaging me. I clicked on it.

“Hey, um, no being funny or anything.” It read. “But were you climbing trees at lunchtime barefoot?”

I choked. “What do you mean?” I typed, grateful for the screen and the two towns between me and the girl to hide my snort of laughter.

“Well, one of the pupil support teachers pulled me out of fifth period to ask if I was okay, because I’d been climbing trees at lunch time with no shoes on. And I want to know if it was you, because it wasn’t me. She said that “we need to find this person as they may be in distress.”

I almost died laughing. To this day, I will never know if the teachers ever found out that it was me. Given my track record of weird stunts, there is at least a ninety percent chance they did and don’t care. What can I say, I had my quirks.