Wednesday, April 8, 2026

Switching Places by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 


Last week Konnie wrote about us switching places, and she said we never tried it in junior high or high school, which isn’t quite accurate.

Yes, we never tried switching places on April Fool’s Day, but we did switch once. During the first week of seventh grade, ergo, not as a prank. In fact, the only person we intended to fool was Konnie’s assigned locker partner, who was being an unmitigated brat.

To put it simply, at one point this cretin got a new lock for their shared locker but absolutely refused to give Konnie the new combo. She was going as far as to block Konnie’s view while she opened it!

Konnie tried everything she could think of, including complaining to their homeroom teacher who told Konnie she couldn’t do anything about it and to work out a compromise.

What kind of compromise can you work out with someone who refuses to budge?

Konnie was at her wits end, so I turned to my best friend, my assigned locker partner, and told her Konnie and I were switching places for homeroom only. I did tell her why and she was all for it.

I think a few of our other friends from the previous school year recognized we’d switched places, but none of our friends from the previous year was in Konnie’s homeroom, so no trouble.

When it came time to get into our lockers I used as much force as I could muster to get her to let me see the combo. She was stronger than she looked. So, knowing Konnie’s teacher would be no help, I took off to the front office to air my grievance about this brat.

The school secretary had the same attitude as the teacher.

I admit it, I lost my temper, and back then I had quite a potty mouth, which got me scolded and threatened with expulsion from the secretary and the principal. All of which increased my tirade.

Our big sister’s best friend was only in ninth grade, so not in high school like our big sister, and she heard me yelling so she came to find out what was wrong.

She pointed out that the school staff did not want to deal with our mother, who taught me the potty mouth, and was also a journalism student at the local university. She basically said, “Mistreat her daughters and you’re going to be in the news.”

She also insisted that Konnie could share her locker, since she didn’t have a locker partner.

Konnie moved lockers.

The brat got what she wanted all along, but I’m not sure she enjoyed it.

Before week two of that year was over, the whole school knew why a little seventh grader had a locker in the nineth grade hall. And they knew who caused that change.

I don’t know if she learned her lesson or not, but I do know she didn’t make a whole lot of friends that year, and I saw her get hazed more than once. Actually, I saw her get hazed repeatedly.

And if you are wondering, Konnie and I did not get hazed at all that year due to the threat our big sister had issued at the end of the previous year, just before she advanced to high school. She promised that anyone who dared to haze her baby sisters would get it twice as bad when they got to high school.

The high school in question was notorious back then for horrendous hazing and there was no way any of us could have known then that by the following school year we would be living in a different city altogether.

The threat worked.

Actually, once my best friend and I were walking away from the school when a guy came up behind us. I think he had skates on, I can’t remember for sure, but he dove between my friend’s legs and smeared red lipstick down the inside of both her legs. When he jumped to his feet and actually looked at us, his expression turned to horror and he yelled, “That’s Jacki’s kid sister!”

I turned to find another guy stop dead in the middle of an attack run on me, also horrified.

I took advantage of their terror and yelled at both of them, “Touch my best friend again and you’ll regret it!”

There was another incident that year where a guy got a towel and was flicking the girls in the gym. The other girls ran; I turned and faced him, asking his name.

He asked me why and I said, “Well, I need your name to tell Jacki. You know Jacki Westover, my big sister.”

He hightailed it out of there so fast the other girls cracked up.

But anyway, we did once trade places in seventh grade.

Happy writing everyone.


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