The eighth grade was the worst school year for me. There were a few good parts, but it was mostly bad. First, I had two people who said they were my friends betray my trust. There was one girl I told about having endometriosis. I told her about having treatments that failed, so I finally got a hysterectomy over the summer. I told her out of confidence. One day, I went in the bathroom. I found written on one of the stalls, "Autumn is a slut puppy." To make matters worse, other people knew about it. All I heard that day was, "Look! There's the slut puppy!" I fell into Glenn's arms and cried. He cried, too, because I was upset, and he didn't know what to do. Fortunately, we gained a new friend out of this experience. A girl came by and asked, "Is everything okay?" Glenn said, "No." I said, "Everyone thinks I'm a slut puppy." She said, "I don't think you're a slut puppy. We'll put this rumor to an end, or my name isn't Millie!" With help from Millie, Glenn, and Leroy, the rumor ended as quickly as it began. Another so-called friend betrayed my trust that year. His name was Bradley. Glenn had warned me in the previous year that Bradley would abandon me if he became popular. Glenn was right. Bradley became popular, and I didn't. He didn't attack me directly, but he didn't stop his "cool, new friends" from bullying me. If that wasn't bad enough, my maternal grandfather passed away just two days before Halloween. Even though my mother died in childbirth, her parents still wanted a relationship with me. I called my maternal grandfather Pops. I sometimes thought Pops needed to be knocked off of his pompous high horse, but deep down, he was a sweet man. Cigarettes were his downfall. Lung cancer got him. Before he died, he told me, "There's a lot worse things than dying. Suffering is one of them." Even though he had never met Pops, not even once, Glenn came to the funeral. It was so sweet. I got a lot of hugs from friends I had gained during the school year, too. The day after Pops's funeral, (it was one of the years it snowed on Halloween), I slipped on a patch of ice and fell to the ground. I tried to catch myself, and in doing so, I broke my wrist. It did not affect my ability to write. I'm ambidextrous. One day, I was sitting in my bed, and Glenn had paid a visit. He said, "You look sad. Are you all right?" I said, "No." He said, "You're thinking about your grandfather, aren't you?" I said, "Yeah." I began to cry. Glenn then said, "You're also sad, because you can't play your guitar." I said, "Yeah. How did you know?" He said, "You keep looking at your guitar." One day, Glenn ingested a cinnamon roll, and he had an allergic reaction. He almost died. He literally had to be resuscitated. Thankfully, he survived. He's always careful to avoid his allergen, but he carries an epipen just in case. Since he's had it, he's only had to use it twice. Of course, at the end of the year, I did save him from choking to death. We were having lunch with our friend, Joann. I got up to throw something away. When I came back, Joann said, "I think Glenn's choking! I don't know what to do!" I said, "But I do!" As I said that, I gave Glenn a sharp blow between his shoulders. The food was dislodged, and when he was able to talk again, he said, "Thanks." I asked, "Are you okay, Glenn?" He said, "Yeah, thanks to you." I said, "You're welcome." The incident brought us even closer. I managed to pass the eighth grade with flying colors. In fact, I had straight A's. That was the only time I ever made straight A's, and the funny thing is I was only making enough effort to make a B in everything. I suppose I got lucky.