Naïve

Photo by Roy Javier on Unsplash

“I remember when teenagers had the luxury of being naïve,” Grandpa said. “It was a better time, even if we supposedly had less.”

“What do you mean,” Grandpa?” Jodie looked up from her phone, then, sensing he wanted a real conversation, set it on the table.

“You’re a good kid,” Grandpa said, his eyes watching the phone land face-down. “You’re unusual, sweetheart—in a good way. Most kids would keep scrolling while I talked.”

Jodie understood that Grandpa meant her cousins. Neither could set their phones down without having an anxiety attack. Total FOMO. She waited.

“Used to be, you didn’t have to worry about bullying every minute of the day. I mean, there were still bullies, but they couldn’t get at you when you were at home or away. Or even when you were just somewhere they weren’t.”

“But what does that have to do with being naïve, Grandpa?”

“Everything, Jodie. The innocent get destroyed in this new age of trolls. If you don’t wise up and develop a thick hide quickly, you won’t survive anymore. It’s a damned shame.”

Jodie gave her grandpa a gentle smile. “I’m okay. Really. I know you’re trying to tell me to toughen up. But I don’t need to. I know who I am, and no amount of bullying is going to destroy me. And I know how to turn off my phone.”

Picking up her phone, Jodie did just that. “Come on.” She stood up. “You can buy me an ice-cream for being neither naïve nor a troll.”

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The prompt for this story was the beginning of the first line—”I remember when…”

Some kids have the good fortune to know who they are early in life. I wish they all had the resilience to shrug off the bullies, but I know that’s not a realistic ask. Everyone’s innate makeup is different, as are their life experiences.