The Children’s Book I Needed

Once, I went to school wearing a cotton turtleneck because my mom said it made my eyes look pretty. I remember looking in the mirror that morning and thinking, “Wow! Maybe my eyes really do look pretty in this!” It felt so good to feel good. Later that day, I was standing by the soccer field during recess when this gaggle of pretty girls came up to me. Ooh, it made my heart beat faster thinking that maybe they wanted to play together or something. Maybe the turtleneck paid off! Suddenly they started making siren noises with their mouths. “Fashion police!” they cried. Evidently, only nerds wore turtlenecks, and I’d committed a predictable, but nonetheless sanctionable offense.

Another time, this twerpy popular boy came up to me, also at recess, to ask me to go with him. I couldn’t believe it! The gaggle of pretty girls were around, so they could even hear that I was about to go with somebody. It was my moment. They’d want to be my friends, and I’d never wear a turtleneck again, just to be careful. Of course, I said yes.

“Just kidding,” he yelled. “You’re a nerd. I’d never go with a nerd.” Everyone laughed.

This wasn’t a good year for me, but at the end of the school year I finally had a stroke of luck. I’d been selected as our grade’s “Just Say No!” representative, and I was even going to get to meet the governor. Every day, I walked the short trek home through one neighbor’s backyard and in front of my classmate’s house. This day, I was practically running. I was so proud of myself! I’d been selected for something! My neighbor and one of the gaggle were there waiting in front of my driveway. I smiled at them, thinking maybe they wanted to play. (When would I learn?!) Nope, they did not want to play. “Don’t think you’re cool because you won Just Say No! rep or anything. The teachers just picked you because they feel bad for you because you’re a nerd.” I put my head down and ran up my driveway, eyes burning.

I cried, finally. This time for hours. Later that night, my dad encouraged me to call a friend, so I called one of the pretty gaggle who’d been less mean to me, even though she’d recently told me that my mom wore combat boots, as if that were: a) true; or b) an insult. I told her what happened, and she just said “So?” And then she had to go.

In retrospect, my core problem wasn’t that these kids were mean to me. Kids are frequently mean. My problem was that I kept trying to convince them to like me, even though they’d clearly already made up their minds. Each new humiliation simply felt like evidence that I needed to work harder. Dress better. Be cooler. Whatever. It didn’t occur to me until some years later that I could just use my time and energy trying to strengthen friendship with people who already wanted to be friends.

Anyway, this is all just a long way to say that there was a specific kind of kids book I ought to have read by this time in life. So, that’s what I’m going to do! I’m writing a kids book! The book I always wanted and needed.

What’s this have to do with 52 Rejections, you may ask? Well, I asked my favorite artist to illustrate it, and she said yes! It’s a little unfair, because she also happens to be a friend, BUT she’s a very busy friend who actively makes a ton of art and collabs with the kinds of cool people who were probably also nerds in elementary school. Long story short, it did still feel very much like aiming wayyyyy above my station.

I may have failed at getting rejected here, but I’m VERY excited to write a book about turning rejection into acceptance. This will be for all the kids who might otherwise try too hard to please the unpleasable. May they find one another instead.

OTHER REJECTION ATTEMPTS:

Beside the above attempt, I have also recently: 1) asked for more chips for free even though I knew I was supposed to pay for them (success); and 2) requested a better parking spot for the upcoming year (pending).