Not Afraid of Life by Bristol Palin Read Free Book Online

her keep the stats, providing the guys with Gatorade, and helping with any other things that came up. In fact, I missed the first day of high school because of a hockey trip to Boston. Track’s team—which included Levi, a guy named Ben, and other friends—packed up and went south to Massachusetts. Though it was a fun trip, it put me at a disadvantage when it came to getting into the groove of a new (and bigger!) school.
    That’s how the second day of school was my first. Track and I drove in his Bronco to Wasilla High School, music blaring, with the base turned up. As the base of the music thumped, so did my heart. How would I know where to go, what if I couldn’t find my classes, and where would I sit at lunch? Track was making fun of me on the way, but I couldn’t calm my nerves—I was about to become one of the hundreds of confused-looking freshmen.
    As soon as I walked in the door, my heart raced. I was trying to find my first class, when—through the crowd of complete strangers—I saw my friend.
    “Over here!” I yelled, thankful to see a friendly face. But when she approached, I noticed we were wearing the exact same shirt—a button-up cardigan we’d bought on a shopping trip together. Okay, so I realize now it’s not that big of a deal, but for a freshman during her first hour of high school, it was disastrous; I wanted to crawl into my locker and hide. At least we’d bought different colors.
    When I did find my first class, I settled into a seat and got my notebook out to jot down any information I’d need for the class. After the class began, Levi walked in late. This second day was his “first day,” too, since he’d been on the hockey team’s trip.
    “Hey, babe,” he said as he slid into his chair.
    Though I’d never chase or pursue him, I was happy to have a friend next to me. At that time, that’s all we were . . . though we started flirting from that first class on. As the days passed, I watched in mild amusement—and some concern—as it became clear he wasn’t fitting in well at high school. He came to hockey practice drunk, he put Ex-Lax in some kid’s brownie, he got sent to the office. Apparently, Levi only enrolled in school so he could qualify to play hockey. As soon as the season was over, he’d drop out. (It became a pattern. For later semesters, he enrolled in a homeschool curriculum for just enough credits to play. After hockey season, he’d drop out again.) Because he knew he wasn’t going to be there for long, he had no reason whatsoever to behave in school. He was a one-man wrecking crew, and he only lasted a few weeks at Wasilla High School.
    I was astonished at how little Levi cared about what teachers thought of him, how little he studied, and how he lived on his own terms. After he dropped out, however, it was out of sight, out of mind. The excitement—and challenges—of a new school crowded out any lingering thoughts of rekindling that old seventh-grade flame. I’d sometimes see him at the house with Track and his other teammates, but otherwise I didn’t pay much attention to him and did normal high school things.
    I still had the drama from the affair of my soon-to-be former uncle to deal with. One night at the beginning of the school year, my friends and I went to the high school football game and were hanging around talking. Mike was an assistant coach at the high school, which made it awkward when I’d run into him.
    That night, however, we were walking by him, and—in a great demonstration of both his immaturity and his feelings for his former niece—he called me a “f—king b—ch!” Though he mumbled it, every one of my friends heard it.
    As he walked off, my friends said, “Really? Did that really happen? A trooper just called you that?”
    All of the drama surrounding my uncle was hard for me to survive without my naive notions about truth and justice being stripped away. Even though I was so young, I suddenly became calloused toward people