It is the first yearbook I've ever owned. We didn't have one in my elementary school so I'm excited and happy to finally have something to commemorate my first year of middle school with. I forget the circumstances except this one girl Amber whose mom was a dead-ringer for Scary Spice because she's in the car that I came home with. After I've hopped down and made it up my driveway, I turn around and wave for them to stop because I've left my yearbook in the car.
Amber steps out and forsomeidioticreason, throws it at me even though there was no freaking way it could've reached me unless a) I was the Filipino version of the superhero Flash or b) she was an Olympic shotput hurler. I watched my first yearbook sail through the air in slow-mo fashion and hear the booming "Noooooo" come out of my own mouth as I stumble to catch it...and miss completely.
This event causes the binding of my book to fall apart and when I try to pick up the yearbook today, the cover is pretty much dislodged from the rest of the book. This event will also make me resent this girl to some extent for the next few days. I will get over this one day. My yearbook, on the other hand, is clearly another story altogether.
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