The Nice Girl

It was the fall of 1987. I was taking my second Political Science class at Sierra Community College with my favorite teacher — Larry Wight.
There was a good girl in the class who liked me. She was blonde. She was cute. But she wasn’t slutty. She was just a good girl. A genuine girl. And she sat up front.
I sat in the back as was my habit. I was sarcastic and provocative. I asked questions in class that I thought demonstrated my great learning.
“I never understand what you are talking about,” said a friend in the class.
Anyway, this good girl was sitting up front before class. She had her head resting on her books. And I came up behind her and I deliberately startled her.
She started crying and through her tears, she reached for me. I held her. We started talking. She said she was transferring to U.C. Davis. She wanted me to come too.
I let her go. I wonder what happened to her? I don’t even remember her name. I just remember startling her. I remember my deliberate cruelty. And I remember her tears and her reaching for me for comfort.