Strawberry Pain

 

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Chapter 1

            What the fuck!? I thought as I flew out of my bed in a minor panic attack. My phone alarm started playing the drowning theme from sonic. Then the sound began to loop itself. Nope, nope, nope, nope.

            The sound blared from my phone and for small second, I considered throwing it at the wall because unlocking it was far too slow an option to silence the banshee. However, I’d just spent $200 and was locked into a two year plan with a warranty I was certain didn’t cover “accidental collisions with bedroom walls.”

            My nine dot lock screen stared back at me as alarm beginning to loop once more, mocking my goldfish memory skills from just waking up. Um, was it a square? No. Diamond? No. As I was just about to try a triangle, my phone unlocked itself into a wallpaper of Sonic the Hedgehog holding a birthday cake. What? I wondered, so confused. That wasn’t my wallpaper, and now that I thought about it, did I even have a lock screen? That definitely wasn’t my alarm sound either.

            The device vibrated in my hand and a message came up: Morning, Nate. Happy Birthday. Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.

            Right, I thought while I pretended my heart didn’t skip a beat from her message. My childhood friend, wanna be hacker, and Sonic fan extraordinaire, Erica, was the only possible culprit. That’s why you don’t let your hacker friend borrow your phone. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming; even normal teens wouldn’t forget their phones, let alone someone constantly connected like Erica. Secondly, I had a birthday coming up, and for some reason, all of my friends choose my birthday as the ultimate prank me day. Maybe it’s because my birthday was on April 1st, or maybe my friends were just jerks. Last year, every link I clicked on redirected to the Youtube video “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley for the entire day courtesy of Erica. My other two so called best friends, Casey and Freddy? Yeah, they filled up my shower/bathtub with ten full size koi fish. I had shower in my dad’s bathroom and build a make shift koi pond in my back yard that day.

            You should really consider closing your window. Your alarm woke my parents up, another message read.

            Oh, I see. It’s clearly my fault that you: 1. Replaced my alarm with the Drowning Sonic tune 2. Gave my phone a locks screen I didn’t know the password to, I replied. Sighing, I followed it up with, Cool wallpaper though.

            Yeah, my friend Meghan whipped it up for me. Found her through DeviantArt. You should check her out some time. If you ignore the Rule 34 art, she’s got some really cool Sonic pieces.

            Riiiiight. I’m going to go take a shower now, (fingers crossed there’re no fish in there). My phone better be back to normal by the time I get out, or you’re walking to school.

            Will do. Also, I have a feeling there aren’t any fish in your tub today.

            I hope not, I thought as I placed my phone back into the angler fish mouth. Maybe I should explain that. My night stand was the bottom half of a cartoon angler fish mouth, with the top half painted onto the wall, connected to a light in the side of my wall. The whole room was painted, dark blue at the bottom, fading to light blue near the top, like the ocean, with the ceiling decorated with clouds. Different aquatic animals were painted around the room at different “depths.” Beneath my feet, a mural of a sunk ship with a giant squid was painted. The top of my desk was painted green to look like a giant lily pad.

            Yeah, it was a bit much. When my mom left us… my dad sort of over compensated. I’ve wanted to be a Marine Biologist since I was six when my mom took Erica and I to see Finding Nemo. We never found out why mom left, but my dad tried to keep my mind off of it. Apparently he’d been somewhat of a painting prodigy when he was younger, though he never pursued it. After finding the note my mom had left, he was frozen for a moment, before taking me to the hardware store and buying buckets of paint, brushes, etc. As soon as we got back, he went to work. That was the first and last time I’d ever seen him paint; it took him three days and he didn’t speak once until he was finished. His eyes were full of sadness, but also determination. Since that day, he’s been his usual chipper and airheaded self, as if mom hadn’t left at all.

            Closing the submarine window in the side of my room, I grabbed a towel and washcloth from my closet to take a shower. I hesitated at my door before leaving my room, as I had almost every day since he’d painted it. On it was a dolphin, my mom’s favorite animal, swimming away. I’m not sure if my dad was conscious of the symbolism he’d painted, but sometimes I just sat and stared at it, wondering where my mom might be.

*I COULD WATCH YOU FOR A LIFE TIME. YOU’RE MY FAVORITE MOVIE*

            My backup alarm, thankfully changed back to the Skrillex remix of Cinema by Benny Benassi, was going off. Good thing it went off before I got in the shower. On the off chance that Erica’s parents were still awake and they heard it, I’d be treated to a four hour lecture on how Dubstep isn’t real music. As a mildly famous indie rock group, the amount of times teenagers had told them their music needed more “wub” apparently added up until Mrs. Flynn threw an electronic drum kit through a wall after reading a comment online. Yeah, the “Flynn Tones” were just about the only indie group nowadays who didn’t use any sort of techno effects in their music. However, as a part of the Post-Millennial generation, I appreciated a good “wub” every now and then.

            Immediately after stepping out of my room, a stack of old books trips me and I collide into another stack of books until the floor is a minefield of paperbacks. Thanks Dad. My prodigy painter father is actually a librarian who frequently takes home old books as new ones take their shelf space. Too bad he wasn’t a prodigy maid.

Hopping into the shower, I contemplated all of the things my friends could think of to prank me with, but after “rigging my airbags to explode with whipped cream”, I quickly realized that I wouldn’t be able to leave the house if I kept thinking about it. Hopefully, whatever it was, I didn’t wind up with any serious injuries, and/or jail time. I hopped back out of the shower, wrapping the towel around my waist as I blow dry the mirror free of steam.

            Woo! I thought after examining my face for any sign of pimples. Luckily, today was a good day, so all I had to do was shave off the peach fuzz off of my olive skin that apparently wasn’t ever going to turn into real facial hair, and then spend twenty minutes incorrectly styling the black undercut that Erica made me get a few weeks ago “because it would make me look cool.” I try to tell her that it makes me feel like a wanna be hipster, but she still insists that it looks good, which gives me butterflies to the point I’m too happy she complimented me to continue arguing with her.

            Eventually, I make my way into the kitchen before heading out the door. Two slices of bread go into our toaster, two pieces of vagina toast come out. My dad bought a custom made toaster from some craftsman at a Renaissance Fair a while back, who said the toaster was designed to toast the “Eye Of Sauron” into the bread. My dad being the book fanatic he was, paid $50 for a vagina toaster. Even at the age of 13 I knew what is was, but to this day he hasn’t figured it out. So out the door I went, with vagina toast in mouth and a book I’d promise to loan Sam. If Casey were here, he’d have the perfect dirty joke for the situation.

*BUZZ*

            My mom said she could take me to school since she was up. I tried to tell her that you had me covered, but she insisted. “If I have to wake up to the neighbor’s alarm clock, I might as well be productive and take my daughter to school.” #momthings See you when you get here.

            That was fine, at least now I get to listen to some pop-punk instead of whatever techno-indie-folk-pop song was currently at number one on the charts. At first, it was fine; they called themselves Alternative Rock and got play on rock stations every now and then. Then pop stations picked them up and it seems like every song has been the exact same since. I swear if I hear “SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOOOOW” one more time, I am going to rip off my ears. Erica calls me a hypocrite for listening to pop-punk – which is totally not all the same like today’s music – and then point out that my alarm is a dubstep song. There’s a difference though, everything I like is good and everything I don’t like is bad. Obviously.

            I slipped my phone back into my pocket, ignoring the fact that I probably spent a minute there trying to justify my tastes in music to myself, when I saw it. “It”. One word has never perfectly described something so. My punch buggy my dad had bought me a year ago, when I first turned 16, was the hottest pink I’d ever seen. Rims painted a lighter pink and the inside of my car was dark pink. So this is what Erica meant earlier.

            …

            As long as it’s not filled with koi fish, I guess.

            I threw Samantha’s book in the back seat and my backpack in the passenger seat and got in, fully taking in the fine details. It wasn’t as if they’d just spray painted everything pink; my entire interior was reupholstered with dark pink material. Pink pleather for the seats, some pink cloth for the roof… I even had pink floor mats. Even the stereo was pink, probably finely painted with nail polish or something. As I put my keys in, I noticed that those too were pimped out and I’d somehow missed it until now. The only thing untouched was my mom’s silver dolphin necklace hanging from my rearview mirror.

            Alright, Freddy and Casey had way too much free time or at least too much money to hire someone else who did. Either way, the sheer amount of effort involved is amazing.

            People constantly beeped at me on my way to Paper High School, and I had no idea why. I thought that maybe those two Ashton Kutchers had somehow messed up a break light or something when they decked out my car. I pulled into my parking space at school, shoved my backpack onto my break, and walked around to check it out. “Honk For Puppies” read the bumper sticker on the back of my newly pink Batmobile. Of course they put an annoying bumper sticker on there. Why wouldn’t they? I thought.

            “Hahahaha, that look makes it so worth it!” Casey said from behind me.

            Freddy piped in, “Unfortunately for you, pink does not go with your outfit. From now on, you’re going to have to start wearing brighter colors. Anything is better than the monotone black style you wear… every single day.”

            I sighed and said, “But I liked black.”

            “You were born a decade too late; Grunge and Emo fell out of fashion long before we got to high school. Of course, whether or not they were good looking back then is up for debate,” Freddy said.

            Ah Freddy, my tiny, black, straight fashionista. He rocked dreads to go with his never-worn-twice look. It seems kind of unnecessary to explain that he’s straight right now, but the amount of time he’s been mistaken for gay are so many that he actually puts “Straight Black Fashion Dude” on his business cards. One day he’ll probably have to change that once he actually gets a business, but for an aspiring artist, it makes him pretty recognizable.

            Casey was like his antithesis. At 6’5” and being Chinese American, he’s developed the nick name Yao Ming after the basketball player. It’s kind of racist, but he doesn’t care. He’s ripped and is a star player on the Paper Planes football team, so if someone said something he didn’t like, he could put them through a wall.

            “Wow, you two actually did it. This is absurd. How much did it cost?” Kyle asked as he walked up. He kissed Casey real fast and grabbed his hand. Yeah, they’re gay. Some dude tried to make fun of Casey for it when he first joined the freshman team, but two black eyes later, everyone’s cool with it. Kyle is the drummer for the local “cool band,” so no one gives him flack either. Who knew that Paper High in Greensville, Georgia would be the hub of progressive thought?

            “I got a deal for it down at the shop. Turns out being the best part time worker for an auto shop has its perks,” Casey explained.

            “Did you at least get my oil changed for me while you were committing larceny?” I asked, hopeful.

            “Nope, but you’re definitely overdue; and it’s not stealing if you return it, even if you’re returning it in pink. It’s borrowing without permission obviously,” he explained, as if that was so much better.

            “Friends”, I thought.

*RING RING RING*

            “Well, we better not be late to Mrs. Finch’s English class. Remember the last time Nate missed class?” Freddy asked, laughing.

            “Nope, we’re not bringing this up again,” I walked away at as fast a pace I could.

            They jogged to catch up with me and then Kyle asked, “What happened again?” Kyle, I damn well know you’ve heard this story twenty times already.

            Casey switched to his story time voice, like he was reading a book to a bunch of Elementary School kids. “It all starts with a girl.”

            “A crazy girl,” Freddy corrected.

            “Guys, come on, really?” I asked.

            “It all started with a crazy girl,” Casey continued. “Nate caught the seasonal flu a couple of months ago, as people do around flu season, and Samantha, the crazy girl, went from 0 to paranoid in about one class period.”

            “She has an over active imagination guys,” I argued for the umpteenth time.

            “What do you mean?” Kyle asked, perfectly playing the role of a captivated listener.

            “I’m glad you asked, Kyle. She started acting like one of those conspiracy theorists that live with tin foil hats, thinking the Government has been secretly inserting alien eggs into our food supplies until the day when our overlords rain down from the sky and we begin our lives as slaves to a higher power.”

            “That’s a new one,” I remarked. He changed that part every time he told it. Last time it was something along the lines of, “one of those conspiracy theorists that thought the KGB of the Soviet Union spent 40 years inserting sleeper agents throughout America until the day when they were to be triggered to claim the country in the name of Mother Russia.”

            This time Freddy explained, “So, she ended up passing coded messages to Casey and I, some in morse code, some were normal messages with words were spelled wrong and the secret message was spelled with the missing letters, all trying to figure out what happened to Nate. She was completely convinced that his missing school was the result of some nefarious villain.”

            “My dad had just lent her a bunch of old spy books from the ‘60s. Those writers back then were pretty convincing, honestly,” I argued, though no one was listening.

            “Anyways, it all ended in her having a panic attack in a Janitor’s closet, screaming at everyone who tried to enter.”

            “I’ll admit, that part was really weird. I didn’t believe it until the Principal herself told me. However, Sam doesn’t have a history of mental illness. The school psychologist said it was just her getting really, really, into those books and imposing the fiction onto reality. She’s been fine since then. My dad says she’s got a writer’s mind.”

            “Women, am I right?” Kyle asked, raising his hand for a high five.

            “Is it possible for a gay dude to be misogynistic?” I asked.

            “Nah man, its science. Hormones and stuff, especially for women. It’ll do that to you when you like someone,” Casey said. “I remember when I saw Kyle for the first time at the party at Sara’s house. He was play a gig with his band.”

            Sara is Erica’s best friend. She’s the most popular girl in our grade, with Erica sitting at number two. You wouldn’t expect it based on what I’ve said so far, because she sounds like a hipster, but a hot hipster. She’s pretty socially inept, but it just makes her come off as cool and aloof. Sara took an interest in Erica as soon as hipster came into style, and sort of dragged her up the social ladder. At first I thought it was some form of bullying, but Sara seems like a genuine friend. Up until high school, I was basically Erica’s only friend, so seeing her as happy as she is now is amazing.

            “Yeah, I remember it like it was yesterday. You came up to me with a super serious look on your face, muscles stretching out the tank top you were wearing, and I totally thought you were going to try and pick a fight with me. Then you handed me a Sharpie, ripped open your tank top, and asked me to sign your pecs while blushing so hard. It was the sweetest thing,” Kyle explained.

            “Awwww,” Freddy and I said in unison. It was the only time that either of us could remember Casey making a total fool of himself.

            A fire lit in Casey’s eyes and he said, “That was back when you let that mane of hair just go. Now it’s all ‘man bun’ this and ‘man bun’ that, I miss being able to just grab it and…”

            “OKAY,” Freddy and I yelled together.

            “I support equal rights,” I said.

            Freddy continued, “But there are just some things you two need to keep between yourselves.”

            “Fine,” both Kyle and Casey said, but they put their arms around each other and kept giggling to themselves behind us. Freddy and I were too scared to turn around.

            They kissed as we reached our classroom and Kyle went off to his own class. He was a Senior while we were all Juniors – at least for the next two months.

            As soon as I stepped into the room, “OH! OH! NATE! Do you have my book?! I’ve been dying to read it,” Samantha yelled from across the room. Casey and Freddy patted me on the back, holding in their laughs.

            I looked down at my hands to realize I wasn’t carrying anything. Ooops, I thought. As I walked over to Sam’s desk, I kid you not, I think she was shaking while trying to stop herself from bouncing up and down in excitement, luscious blonde hair wiggling back and forth.

            “Uh, I left it in my car,” I mumbled. She looked like I had just shot her dog.

            “Well, can you go and get it?” Sam asked.

            “Class is starting,” I argued.

            “Can I go and get it?”

            “Can’t you just wait until class is finished? You can come with me to my car and get it then.”

            This time she was the one who mumbled. “I guess.” With that, she slumped back down into her chair and calmed down.

            You know, she was way more attractive when she wasn’t more energetic than a Pikachu on cocaine. Her naturally wavy, blonde hair fell down in perfect curls around her large chest that she seemed completely unaware of. Despite spending who knows how long reading, she had perfect 20/20 vision with the brightest blue eyes. Her curves, her face, everything about her physically was a perfect ten… but her personality turned most people off. By the time high school started, everyone had already learned to leave her alone, no matter how beautiful she was. Except for me. My dad was sort of obsessive about books too, so she didn’t bother me nearly as much as she did other people.

            “Mr. Leinahtan, please sit down so I can take role,” Mrs. Finch, the English teacher, asked. She was under five feet but more intimidating than Professor Umbridge from Harry Potter.

            “Well, at least you know he’s here,” Erica called out from her seat near the door. I raced to my seat next to her.

            “You make a point Mrs. Flynn, however, the process is much faster when I read off of the list and you all answer in turn than when I just write down whoever I see. Some of you go through so many image changes that honestly if I didn’t have this attendance list, I’d think you weren’t even my students.” As Mrs. Finch said that, she eye Freddy suspiciously. There was a clothing convention a few cities away back in November, and his mom offered to take him as long as he didn’t have any tests. Turns out he did have a test, but he paid his older brother to come to school for him and… they looked close enough that Mrs. Finch couldn’t prove anything, even if Freddy’s brother was a solid six inches taller than him. That was also the only test Freddy ever got higher than a “C”.

            I took my seat and whispered to Erica while the teacher started role, “Thanks for that.”

            She whispered back, “I didn’t even do anything. So, um, how’d you like your car?”

            “Very, very pink, but honestly, I kind of like it. Don’t tell Tweedlediva and Tweedlegay, but I needed a new paint job and pink has style to it. Only thing I hate is the bumper sticker: “Honk For Puppies.” Obviously everyone likes puppies. I don’t need everyone blasting their horns to know that.”

            Mrs. Finch called, “Erica Flynn?”

            “Still here Mrs. F,” she called back.

            “Thank yoouuu,” Mrs. F sung back to her.

            Erica leaned back over to me and asked hesitantly, “Did you… find anything weird inside the car?”

            “No, no fish. Thank god,” I replied. “By the way, you better remove whatever you installed onto my phone that allowed you to give me a heart attack this morning.”

            “Oh…” Erica said distantly. “Yeah, sure, no problem. I’ll take a look at it after class. I think you should maybe check your car before school lets out, just in case, you know?”

            “Yeah, I guess I don’t want any fish dying if they did somehow manage to hide a few in there.”

            “Nathan Leinahtan?” Mrs. Finch called.

            I stayed quiet and ducked down behind Erica.

            “I see you, Mr. Leinahtan. That joke’s not as funny as you think it is.”

            I climbed back into my chair and said, “I’m here Mrs. Finch, just like I was a minute ago when you told me to sit down.” A normal teacher would have sent Erica and me to the Dean’s office, but Mrs. Finch was pretty chillax, even if she was stern looking.

            Erica gave off the vibe that she was done talking to me, and I’ve known her long enough to know that when she wanted to be left alone, no amount of prodding would get a response I wanted. I still remember back when I first realized I had a crush on her in middle school, and suddenly I became super clingy. Erica doesn’t do well with clingy. After three days of me not leaving her alone for a moment, she avoided me for a week after that and it almost broke my heart. After that… I learned to keep a healthy distance. Yeah, Erica is a complex person.

            For the rest of the class, she kept up her patented aloof attitude while Mrs. Finch kept us busy with classwork. Something about Charles Dickens and the French Revolution… I had following old literature, no matter how many time my dad has tried to help me. Nine times out of ten I end up on Spark Notes, looking up modern summaries of whatever pre-20th century title we were reading that week.

*RING RING RING*

            Oh thank God, I thought.

            Before I got a chance to say anything to Erica, she raced out the door.

            How’s she going to fix my phone if she leaves before I can give it to her? I wondered.

            “Nate! Nate! Come on, let’s go,” Samantha said as she bounced over to me. Yep, she skipped all of the way around the classroom, skipping in place when she had to wait for other students to file out of the rows in between us.

            “Just a second, Mr. Leinahtan. I need to talk to you about the last test on Hamlet.”

            “Ugh, Mrs. F, can’t you talk to him tomorrow?” Sam asked.

            “I’m sorry, Samantha, but your friend did quite poorly and is in danger of failing if he doesn’t buckle down by the next exam.”

            “You failed Hamlet, Nate?! That’s super easy, just go watch The Lion King. Basically the same story, plus there’s that sweet ‘Oh I just can’t wait to be king,’ song,” Sam sang out.

            I sighed, her energy drained me. I said, “Here, take my keys. I trust you, mostly. Just give them back to me at lunch.”

            She looked like I’d just offered her Excalibur, then silently skipped off.

            “It’s the pink punch buggy!” I yelled out.

            “Come up here, and we’ll go over a study strategy so you don’t end up having to repeat this class next year,” Mrs. Finch said.

            She handed me a bunch of outlines, numbers for tutors, etc. until I couldn’t carry anymore. “You know, your friend, Samantha, scores a perfect grade on every test. It probably wouldn’t hurt for you to ask her for help.”

            “I know, she’s just… she’s on a whole different level. Last time I asked her to help me, she went into Ancient Greek philosophers and their influence on the work. It was overwhelming to say the least.”

            “Regardless, you need to do something. You’re too bright to repeat this class. A failing grade could ruin your chances at a good college. I’m hear every morning an hour before school starts if you need me.”

            “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said and walked out. She’s right, I was too smart to fail a high school English class, but even still I had a hard time concentrating on the books we read. Kind of ironic considering I had more books in my house than most libraries.

            “Hey, Nate?” Sam caught me as I was walking out.

            “Yeah?” I turned to her. She looked… different than usual. She was nervous, and her cheeks were red, and she wasn’t looking me in the eye.

            “Um, you may want to go check your car. I think someone left something for you,” she said hurriedly. She basically threw my keys and me and ran away.

            Well, that’s a new one, I thought. I swear to God if I find a live animal in my car and those two didn’t say anything, I’m going to call the police on them for animal abuse.

            The next class was pretty standard, just reviewing for next week’s math test. Then there was lunch where Sam avoided me, Freddy spent the entire time texting his mom about a new design he came up with instead of going over Pre-Cal problems, and Casey just made googly eyes at Kyle until I couldn’t stand it. So I ducked out a bit early and made my way out to my car before 3rd period, the last class of the days – our school works on an alternating schedule, with period 1, 2, and 3 being one day and then 4, 5 and 6 the next. Ralph, the security guard near the gate of the school gave me an odd look, like he was daring me to try sneaking out. I think my pink car offended him.

            I checked my trunk first, assuming that’d be the first place I’d find whatever it was they hid in my car, but it was empty. Backseats, empty. Front seats… What is that?

            A pink envelope laid in my passenger seat, blending in with the pink material. In blue pen, my name was scribbled onto the front, and the back was sealed with a shiny heart sticker.

            Is this… a confession letter from Sam?

 

 

            The Web Design teacher gave me a hard time when I arrived to class a few minutes after the bell had rang, but honestly I don’t think she really cared. If you still managed to turn in your work on time, you could do practically anything you wanted during class. As the last class of the day, no one really wanted to do work anyways. So, for an entire month half of the class played pirated copies of the original Halo off of flash drives and did the work at home; until someone ratted us out to the Principal because he kept getting sniped across the map. Johnny didn’t have very many friends after that.

I dropped the letter in front of Freddy and Casey as I took my seat between them.

            “What’s that?” Freddy asked, picking the envelope up.

            “Is that what I think it is?” Casey chimed in.

            “I don’t know, I’m scared to open it. I think… I think it’s from Samantha,” I said. I then went into detail about loaning her my keys and the conversation we shared when she returned them to me.

            “…I take it you don’t want to open it because you don’t feel that way about her?” Casey asked.

            I hesitated, “I-I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about me and her in that way before.”

            “Obviously you have feelings for her, even if you don’t realize them. No one else at Paper High even tries to talk to her. I saw a teacher once fake a phone call to get away from her when she tried to explain how literature impacted the spread of Communism in World History a few weeks ago,” Freddy argued.

            “Maybe he’s just a nicer person than you, Freddy,” Casey said.

            “You don’t like talking to her either.”

            “Point taken,” Casey said. “Regardless, Nate has been in love with Erica for, like, his entire life. I mean, he baked five cakes for her last year for her birthday because none of them were ‘good enough’. And there was that time that he nursed her when she came down with the flu, spending every waking hour by her side since her parents were on tour.” I didn’t know anyone knew about that one, not even Erica. She was so loopy from the medicine that she kept calling me Dad or Mom.

            “Sure, but he’s so far in the friend zone that she probably doesn’t see him as a man, just that one friend without boobs,” Freddy said confidently. Indeed, I am a friend without boobs, I thought.

            “That… You make another good point,” Casey conceded. “Hey, maybe this isn’t a love letter at all, but… a pink cable bill that smells like flowers and has your name written on the front and sealed with a heart sticker. Anyways, why don’t you try reading it first?”

            Right, I thought, it’s just a cable bill addressed specifically to me instead of my dad.

            I pealed the sticker seal off carefully and pulled out the perfectly folded light pink letter inside.

 

            To Nate,

                        I know that we’ve been friends for a while now, but every time I see your face, my heart beats faster and faster, uncontrollably. I’m scared you’re going to notice and in that instant I’ll look into your eyes as you look for a way to let me down easy. You know me more than I think I know myself, and honestly, it’s frightening. Sometimes I feel like you can ready my mind; every doubt I’ve ever had and every spurt of joy I’ve ever felt. Everyone else around me makes these preconceived judgments about me without having ever heard my soul speak – except for you, you who has heard everything yet doesn’t judge me at all. You bring out the me I want to be, the me I don’t want to be, and every version of me in between. Every possibility exists with you, and I can’t stand you not knowing it anymore. Even if you’ll hate me because of it, even if it gives you more power over me than I myself have, I have to tell you. So here I am, writing this stupid letter because just being around you makes me so nervous that I can’t trust myself to say it properly. You appreciate me for me and I hope you appreciate the feelings I have for you, because I don’t think they’ll ever go away. Meet me in the Library when school gets out to let me know your answer.

 

            “That was kind of really rambly,” Casey said.

            “She forgot to write her name at the end; and what’s with all that stuff about you appreciating her and knowing the real her? That sounds like a bunch of flower talk that those old dudes used when they wanted to trick a chick into banging them,” Freddy said crudely.

            “It’s called being a romantic. Sam reads a ton of old timey literature that is written just like this,” I explained.

            Casey tapped me on the shoulder, “So, what are you going to do? We know you’ve liked Erica forever, but maybe you need to consider the possibility that it’ll never happen. There are only a couple of months before the last summer vacation of our high school lives. Do you really want to look back at these years knowing you had a chance to experience true happiness and didn’t take it?”

            “Look, Casey and I clearly think Sam is kind of a weirdo, but we all are in some way or another. It seems to me like her weirdness just happens to perfectly match yours. Remember the story about Casey ripping off his shirt when he found Kyle? Maybe Samantha will turn out to be the girl for you if you give her a chance instead of pining for someone who doesn’t even look your way,” Freddy said, more seriously than I’d ever heard him in his entire life.

            “We can’t decide for you, obviously, but you should really consider it. If it doesn’t work out, at least you tried. And if it does? God save us all from the weird little nerd spawn you two will eventually produce. Ugh, children are gross,” Casey said while fake vomiting.

            “Yeah… I’ll definitely think about it,” I said as put a pair of earbuds in. The sound of “I Miss You” drowned out all other noises, allowing me to concentrate on whatever character for character assignment I had to copy from the book into an html document. The relative mindlessness of it gave me the freedom to think.

            Samantha… Until now her name was always associated with friendship. She was that one friend that you have who makes you a little embarrassed to be around them in public. Not because you don’t like them, but because they’re so oblivious to certain social manners and you feel responsible for them annoying others. The library was the one place that she restrained herself; according to my dad, she was once banned for an entire month for being repeated offenses of squealing while reading a book. My dad has invited her to my house a few times – he thinks I need to start dating – and it honestly wasn’t bad. Sam and my dad got along so well, she already felt like part of the family. Oh my God, if we get married, she would be part of the family, I realized. I was not old enough to be having that thought.

            Honestly, I had no idea what it even meant to date. I understood what liking someone was, I’ve liked Erica most of my life. If possible, I’d be around her as much as possible. But did that mean that I wanted to date her? Lust was what I felt towards that clip of Alexandra Daddario in True Detective that Freddy sent me, but I don’t know if I’d ever had a reaction to Erica like that. She seemed pure and thinking about her in that way seems like it wouldn’t be respecting who she was. Maybe I’ve build up this image so much that dating Erica would only end in the tragic realization that she isn’t all I’ve built her up to be?

            I’d never had those thoughts about Sam either, but it was different with her. It’s not like I couldn’t, it’s just that I never had. Also, if we dated and it went wrong, I wouldn’t be ruining the relationship with my best friend since forever. As twisted as thinking this way is, Sam honestly seemed like the best choice for a first girlfriend. It’s not as if I really had my choice between them anyways. Right now it was a choice between eternal unrequited love and a real chance at high school happiness. Is it really respecting Sam if I treat her feelings with this much cold, calculated logic instead of genuine emotion?

            It doesn’t seem fair to toy with her emotions, treating her like a trial run girlfriend. I’m going to have to tell her I don’t feel the same way, I decided. Now if only I was heartless enough to do it with a text instead of in person like I know I should. Receiving a confession letter was way less fun than my fantasies led me to believe.

*RING RING RING*

            “Did you decide what you’re going to do?” Casey asked as we shut down our computers and pushed our chairs in.

            “I’m going to turn her down. It’s not that I think I couldn’t ever fall in love with her, but it seems wrong to string her along until I figure that out,” I explained. Then I sighed and said, “My dad’s going to be bummed. I think he was secretly hoping that Sam and I would end up together one day and he’d get grandchildren who actually cared about books. He already treats Sam like a daughter; hopefully this doesn’t make things too awkward for him.” We turned and headed out of the classroom

            “Dude, if your dad has that hard of a time with you choosing who you do or do not want to date, he needs to meet someone himself,” Freddy said. “My mom tried to do that when we were just entering high school, toying around with my love life if I was a Sim or something. I straightened her out real fast and forced her to join a community club. She met my step dad at bingo and hasn’t bothered me about it since. Gone are the days of walking into the store and seeing the new genetic specimen she’d hired, and then having her ‘conveniently’ schedule us together.”

            “I liked Katy, though,” I said.

            “So did I, until I found out she was already in a relationship. I also liked, Trisha, Amber, and Monica, but Trisha got arrested for arson, Amber faked a work injury and tried to sue my mom’s store, and Monica was a lesbian. Oh Monica, I will never forget thee. It wasn’t until our third date that she realized I wasn’t gay and we weren’t just hanging out as friends,” he said woefully.

            “You know, as a person in a strong relationship, it’s nice to not have to deal with the problems of being single. Not once has Kyle be arrested for arson, unless you count the time he lit a fire in my heart.”

            “Wow,” Freddy said. “You were supposed to be the cool one out of us three, but dating Kyle has finally made you a sappy gay dude. It took long enough. I was tired of going out and always having more girls hit on you than me.”

            “Shut up,” Casey said to Freddy. He then turned to me and said supportively, “Alright, we’re at the library now. We can’t hold your hand as you go in and crush that poor girl’s heart, but we’ll be right out here if you need us.”

            “Right,” I said. We were on the second floor of the main school building, and threw the set of glass doors in front of me, I could spot Sam at her usual spot. She was totally engrossed in whatever that book I’d given her was. Oh man, I hope she doesn’t cry into the book. It’s one of my dad’s favorites and I’m pretty sure he wanted it back when she was down.

            As soon as I walked in, her head shot up like that dog from “Up” spotting a squirrel. She blushed and tried to hide behind her book.

            She’s not making this easy, I thought as I walked over to her. I took a chair across from her and waited until she finally put the book down.

            “Yes?” she asked nervously. Her blue eyes shone back at mine with pure innocence. Her luscious pink lips looked, really kissable. And her hair, oh man her hair; it took everything I had not to want to run my hand through her hair and lean in closer…

            I shook my head until I was so dizzy I was about the throw up. “I uh, I need to talk to you about… the thing.”

            “The thing? Your dad’s book? Do you want it back already? I’m a fast reader, but even I can’t finish a four hundred page novel in four hours and still be expected to do classwork.”

            “Yeah but… you know, I like your person today. It’s quite a nice person.”

            “Should I be saying thank you? That doesn’t make sense. Are you okay, Nate?” Sam asked with the sweetest voice you’d ever heard. How on earth had I found that same tone to be anything but melodious before?

            “I’m sorry Sam but… will you go out with me this Friday?” Oh no. Oh shit no.

            Just as I was about to stand up and run away, she started bouncing up and down, her eyes lit up in excitement, and she threw down the book to hug me across the table.

            “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes! Oh my, God! You just asked me out. Is this really happening?” she squealed as she pulled away from me. “Here, pinch my cheeks,” she said, grabbing my hand and bringing it to her face. My hand brushed across her delicate lips. I didn’t want to pinch her, but she kept bouncing there until I gave her flawless face a small squeeze.

            Damn, combine hormones with sexual awareness and anyone would lose control of themselves, I thought.

            The library door slammed shut, but when I didn’t see anyone when I looked. The librarian lady, however, gave Sam and I a warning look for the joyful shriek she’d just let out.

            And that, boys and girls, is how I met your Aunt Robin.

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Chapter 2

            Let me know how it goes, Erica, the text from Morgan read. Morgan was one of my best friends that I met online through a chat room. She actually designed the wallpaper I used on Nate's phone this morning.

            Of course, I thought. After all, you were the one who convinced me to take this plunge in the first place.

            I walked into the library, but Nate was talking to Sam when I got there. It’s not as though I meant to hide, but for some reason I found myself ducking behind the nearest shelf of books I could. Slowly, I made my way towards them like a ninja until I could hear what they were saying.

            Nate’s voice quivered as he said, “Yeah but… you know, I like your person today. It’s quite a nice person.” That was the first time I’d ever heard Nate so nervous.

            “Should I be saying thank you? That doesn’t make sense. Are you okay, Nate?” Sam asked, echoing my thoughts. Her voice alone made me cringe a bit. I didn’t hate her, but I never particularly liked the strange girl. She worked her way into Nate’s life via Nate’s dad, and once she stuck, she never let go. She was the reason I’d spent so little time alone with Nate since high school started.

            Then Nate said a series of words I never thought I’d hear him say, unless they were towards me. I’d always thought he liked me, but neither of us were able to pull the trigger. So, hearing the words come out of his mouth was like an icicle plunged into my heart. I blocked out the exact words from my memory, but the gist was: “I’ve been madly in love with you this whole time, Samantha Chase. Do you want to go out some time?”

            NO, NO, NO, NO NO NO NOOOO! That’s supposed to be me! Why is he saying those words to her? I’m the one who placed the letter in his car. I’m the one who has been his friend for all his years. Why isn’t it me he’s saying those things to?

            I know that I sounded like a conceited bitch, but… Fuck! Everything about that moment felt so wrong. Every plan I’d had for the future, every memory I’d had of the past, had been shattered to bits and put back in a way I didn’t recognize.

            So I did what any normal, sane person would do. I ran away from my problems and went to find a place to cry alone. They probably saw me as I rushed out of the library, tears embedding themselves in the carpet as I slammed the door. Maybe I wanted them to hear me, to know how hurt I was. Honestly, I wasn’t really thinking straight at the time. Thinking straight was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment.

            “Erica! What’s wrong with you,” a blur called out to me on my way to the nearest bathroom.

            I ignored whoever it was and just kept going. I don’t care if rumors started about “Erica Coolgirl Flynn” racing through the halls with mascara smearing down her face. I never wanted to be popular in the first place, and if this gets people to leave me alone, so be it.

            On my way into the Girls’ bathroom, I kicked open every stall. Good, I thought. I might not care if people saw me crying, but that didn’t mean I wanted some girl sitting in here listening to me sniffle for who knows how long.

            I locked myself in the handicap stall, looked at my make-up smeared face with stinging eyes, and my pathetic self-made me cry even more. In the day and age of women rights, the fact that a man could reduce someone like me to a state like that was abhorrent. Nate wasn’t just another guy though, he was my Nate. He nursed me back to heath when my parents were on tour and I was so sick I couldn’t stand. The there was that time I tripped and sprained my ankle back in middle school on our walk home, he gave me a piggyback ride for two miles all the way to my house, and then carried me upstairs to my room and waited with me until my parents came home.

            My own parents weren’t there for me as much as Nate was. For crying out loud, I practiced kissing on the stuffed narwhal he won for me at an arcade for my thirteenth birthday while thinking of him. I guarantee you a narwhal never saw so much lip action.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

            “OCCUPIED!” I screamed out at the sound. A few moments passed and the knocking stopped. Must have scared them away, I thought. Good.

            “We can’t just go in there. Last time I saw myself naked, I definitely had a penis,” a muffled voice declared.

            “It’s not like you’ve ever used it,” another voice argued. “And besides, sex segregated bathrooms are a remnant of the prude era of the past. There aren’t even showers in school bathrooms and everyone goes in a stall in the ladies’ room. It’s not like you’re going to walk in and get arrested for sexual harassment… Well, let me check for you. Can’t accuse the openly gay dude of sexual harassment.”

            The door opened and the sound of footsteps rung throughout the bathroom. I pulled up my legs onto the toilet so he didn’t see me from under the door. Casey called, “It’s clear. Now hurry up and get in here; you skulking outside of the door makes it you look bad. Remember that time when you ran into Monica at Starbucks, she ran into the bathroom, and you just hovered there until the manager banned you from that Starbucks? We have to go four miles out of our way every morning to get coffee with you now.”

            “…Point taken.” Another set of footsteps followed the first as Freddy joined Casey.

            “Alright, Erica, we know you’re in here. There’s a pea sized window, we’re on the second floor, and I’m about ninety percent sure that there isn’t a secret stair case that opens up when you speak Parseltongue,” Casey said.

            “Only ninety?” Freddy asked back.

            “Got to keep an open mind about things. Maybe my letter has just been lost all of these years. If I stop believing and my letter shows up tomorrow, the text might scramble itself or something. Besides, a secret lair would explain why girls spend so much time in the bathroom. I’m all for personal grooming or whatever, but even Kyle doesn’t spend that long in there. Have you seen the amount of eyeliner and hair gel that man uses? He does it all in five minutes, tops.”

            Silence followed.

            “Are you still here?” I grumbled out.

            “Oh, good,” Casey exhaled. “Here I was, starting to wonder if we were doing this skit to an empty room.”

            “We were doing a skit?” Freddy asked. “Then what’s with all wands you have stored in your room from that one time you went to Universal Studios on a road trip?”

            “Thanks, man. Just throw me under the bus like that.”

            “What do you two want? I assume you were the blur I passed on my way in here, and if you were, you clearly saw that I want some alone time,” I said.

            “We uh… we realized the direction you were running from,” Freddy said.

            “And, knowing Nate, he probably got nervous and did something stupid. If I had to guess, I’d say that you walked in on Nate accepting Sam’s confession letter. That is, of course, unless you were the original secret admirer?” Casey asked.

            What? I unlocked and threw open the stall door. “Sam’s confession letter? I’m the one who wrote the letter, obviously, I mean my name is on it,” I said, even though I knew I must have been wrong.

            “Told you,” Casey said, holding out his hand towards Freddy expectantly. “That’s twenty bucks.” He turned back towards me. “Sorry, that was inconsiderate. Yeah, you definitely didn’t sign that letter.”

            Freddy sighed as he took out his designer wallet and said, “Honestly, your whole plan wasn’t that well thought out. First of all, you wrote a confession letter instead of telling him in person or texting him. Lots of potential to mess up right there. According to Monica, love letters nine times out of ten come off wrong. Maybe I should have written that tenth.”

            “But love letters are romantic,” I argued.

            “Nope, just needy and creepy,” Freddy said with sorrow. “What a day we live in that it’s better to try to be less romantic to be more romantic. Second, you spent the last four or five years making it abundantly clear that you didn’t want to be in a relationship with Nate.”

            “I’ve thought you two were soulmates for a long time, but even I realize that you’ve seem to be putting space between the two of you. You made him your friend without boobs,” Casey explained.

            “A friend without boobs indeed,” Freddy followed up.

            “I did not make him a friend without boobs!” I yelled. “Ugh, I’ve had a crush on him forever, but my mom told me that boys don’t start liking girls until middle school; something about puberty. So I waited, and in that time I only grew more and more conscious of us. He stayed glued to me for three days straight and I thought I was going to confess right then and there, so I ran. What if it’d happened too soon and he was still in that stage where he didn’t see me as a girl yet? Once we joined high school, Sara told me I should have confessed ages ago, and that Nate probably had already moved on. I tried to keep my distance because I was afraid every day that he was going to tell me that he’d met someone. Then a few weeks ago Sara and I were talking about how he hasn’t started dating Sam yet, and she mentioned that maybe he still did like me or that he was gay. I knew he wasn’t though. One time my dad took Nate and I too see this cool new indie group who was just a strong, independent female who recorded all of her instrumental before going on stage. She wore this basically see through shirt with no bra, and Nate didn’t blink once for two hours straight. And, we’re about to have our last year of high school. I didn’t want to look back on this year with regret. Seems that plan is down the drain now…”

            “Okay, you really did write the letter. We thought the rambling was basically confirmation that Sam wrote it, but after hearing you vent just now, I’ve decided that you definitely need to learn to concision. That means to be concise, by the way,” Casey explained.

            “Yeah, I know what it means. I spend five hours a day on the internet reading all sorts of blogs. You’d be surprised at how much obscure vocabulary you learn when you’ve got a bunch of people trying to say things in a fancy way to make themselves seems smarter than everyone else.”

            Freddy chimed in, “You might understand that concision means to be concise, but I’m pretty sure you still haven’t learned what concise means. Anyways, third problem with your plan. You knew we were going to paint his car pink for a while and you still chose a pink envelope to put in there. He didn’t see it until after Sam mentioned it, so more evidence towards her being the author. Lastly, you picked the LIBRARY?! No offense, but you legitimately picked the only place where your competition was guaranteed to be.”

            “What happened has happened. Clearly she knows she messed if she’s crying alone in a bathroom. Now how do we fix it?” Casey asked.

            We don’t fix it, I thought. He already asked her out. Even if he thought the letter was from her when it wasn’t, he confessed to her, and she said yes.

            “It sucks, but I’m sure once Nate knows everything, he’ll break up with Sam for you. They’ve only been together for five minutes, it could be worst,” Freddy said.

            “You don’t get it. He confessed to her. There’s no situation in which he would do that if he didn’t like her. Nate’s not the kind of guy to string her along because it’s easy. You’ve see them and their stupid faces when they’re together. Nate always looks more happy than annoyed, even if he never realized it,” I said solemnly, the truth setting in as I said it.

            “Oh,” was all Casey could say.

            “He was going to turn her down in the first place. I’m not saying you’re wrong and he’s a horrible person, but he’s never been in this situation before. It’s really easy to confuse what you’re feeling when you learn someone likes you. At least, that’s how it seemed in Degrassi when the same thing happened. It’s sucky for Sam, but Nate will probably wake up tomorrow and realize what he did. Unfortunately, he’s a nice enough guy to go along with it until he finally realizes he spent his whole senior year with someone he didn’t love and has to live with it for the rest of his life.”

            “No…” I whispered. Then again louder, “No, you don’t know that. Maybe you’re right and I treat Nate as a boobless friend. We might not work out as anything more. What right do I have to ruin his and Sam’s chance at happiness when I caused this whole mess? If we say anything, Nate will either break up with her for me and we might not work out, ruining both friendships, or he will stay with her and come to resent me for trying to break the two up, still ruining my friendship. I may have screwed up any hope for him and I, but I don’t have to ruin Sam’s happiness. Her face glowed when he said what he did. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I ruined that.”

            “You’re just being selfish,” Casey said. “You’ve been doing your best to avoid taking a step forward with him for years, and once you finally gathered the courage, one little mistake happened and now you have an out. When you look back on this day, you’ll think ‘Oh, there was no other way,’ and might have no regrets. Deep down though, you’ll know. We’re not going to say anything. If you don’t have what it takes to do what is right, then you don’t deserve Nate in the first place.” With that, he walked out.

            Freddy went to follow him, but turned to me and said one last thing, “It’s not our place to ruin what Sam and Nate could have, but it is yours. He’ll be happier with you, even if you tell yourself otherwise. Truth be told, I always thought you were kind of a stuck up bitch. A cool stuck up bitch, but I always thought Nate deserved better than to chase you around until you finally decided you were ready. If you stay quiet, you're even more twisted than I thought. Sam might be annoying and weird, but at least she cares for someone other than herself.”

            I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. Instead, I went back into my stall and started crying once more. I stayed there until the Janitor kicked me out. And then I went home and did what any natural sad person does; I started my computer and browsed Tumblr for hours while going through every carton of ice cream we had in our freezer. Then I threw up some and started all over.

            Around 8:30, my phone went *BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ*. Meghan had just sent me a text:

            You there?

            Yeah, I’m here, I replied.

            Can you Skype?

            I’d rather not.

            That bad, huh?

            That bad indeed. It all went wrong. The worst part of it is that he never even found out I liked him.

            What type of ice cream are you eating right now?

            …Black Cherry Frozen Yogurt. My dad has been on this midlife crisis health kick and refuses to buy real ice cream. Stuff gets the job done though.

            Give me five minutes to run down to a store and pick up some. I have a feeling I’m going to need comfort food as well to listen to what happened.

            Seven minutes and fifty three seconds later she buzzed me back again.

            Alright, I’m ready. Lay it on me.

            And so I did. As fast as my fingers could type on my phone, I typed. It would have been way more efficient to switch over to some kind of IM chat, but it really wasn’t important at the time. I hit the character limit per text every single time, so that every message I sent was actually like five texts worth. The tears flowed once again as I imagined Nate’s happy face while looking at Sam, saying the words I thought were meant for me. About four messages in, I wondered if Meghan were still there reading. Since texts wouldn’t tell me if they were read or not, I just kept sending them. It actually would have been nice if she weren’t there, if halfway through, she dropped her phone in a bucket of water or something so that I was just here venting to the void.

            Once I was done, it took a few minutes before she responded. Maybe she expected that some other series of unfortunate events had continued happening afterwards. Honestly, if I’d read my story, I would have half expected it to end with me being cursed by an old witch to never ever find happiness now that I’d squandered it. But, finally she responded.

            Skype. Now.

            Ugh, I thought. Even though I thought I didn’t want to, the eagerness with which I clicked the icon made me think I must have subconsciously.

            The little “do do do” connecting tune or whatever it was played as a server set up a connection between the two of us. Shortly, her bright red eyes (contacts) were staring back at me behind the black strands of hair falling out of her stark white ponytail. The look might seem eccentric to some, but after my first initial knee-jerk reaction, I realized that the look wasn’t all that strange after a life spent playing fantasy games and watching anime. She was the coolest person I’d ever seen.

            “You need to wash your face,” the computer screen called to me.

            “That bad?” I asked.

            “Let’s just say that you look like a sad clown, and that’s putting it nicely. Maybe not the best idea to where a ton of mascara on the day you had a chance of having your heart broken,” she said softly.

            “Yeah, well, Nate likes girls who wear eyeliner and mascara. Before you say anything, I know if I have to change myself for him then it really doesn’t matter, but Nate isn’t that superficial. He likes a person for who they are. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t want to look good for him,” I rambled.

            “It’s okay, I promise I wasn’t going to say anything. I know a thing or two about dolling yourself up for another person, and it doesn’t always have to be a bad thing. Now, I forgot to mention it the first time, but you also have ice cream all over your face. Like all over. Did you even attempt to use a spoon?” Meghan asked.

            I laughed and cried at the same time, croaking out, “It’s frozen yogurt, not ice cream. Clearly I was trying to moisturize my face with it. Alright, for reals though, I’ll be right back.”

            Once in the bathroom, it was clear that Meghan was being nice when she said I looked like a sad clown. The black tears stained my face behind the black rim glasses and my slightly-longer-than-shoulder-length, dark purple hair. Freddy and Casey didn’t say anything about it at school; I guess they were just trying to be nice. I wonder how many people on the bus thought I was a weirdo.

            What a day to ride the bus, I thought. I’m probably going to be riding the bus for a while now that I can’t get a ride from Nate. Not that he wouldn’t give me a ride, but how am I supposed to avoid him from a foot away from him. I’ve done a pretty good job these past few years by just blasting music loudly. And we sit next to each other in class too! This is going to be way worse than I even imagined.

            Taking one last soft cry, I finished washing my face and glasses, then headed back to my room. I hadn’t realized it before, but my glasses had fogged up and everything seemed much clearer than before. My two thousand dollar desktop that lit up every color imaginable – obviously a must need for serious rigs – threw lights across the dark room onto my covered walls. In the green light, Colton Haynes looked more like the Green Arrow than the red version he’d played on the show. His poster was above my bed, next to the ones of Pentatonix, Imagine Dragons, and Chance The Rapper (the dude is skilled, okay?). I also had a collage of pictures various moments of my life: the first time I saw my parents in concert, the time we went to Niagra Falls, and… the time when Nate’s mom took us to see Nemo. It’s kind of sad, but I think that was the happiest day of my life.

            “Um, Erica? I can see you standing there staring at that picture of him. You should probably stop for your emotional wellbeing,” Meghan called from my desk.

            “Yeah,” I sighed as I flipped the picture over. I didn’t want to throw it away, but it would be too much to see it every day. I made my way back to my desk and sat down gloomily.

            “You’re the only person I’ve ever seen who can sit down gloomily,” she said.

            Changing the subject, I asked, “How did that competition go? That was today, right?”

            “It was, but I wasn’t picked. You’d think with the millions of horribly designed T-Shirts out there that it’d be fairly easy to win a competition for your design, but you’d be wrong. That’s okay, I’m already working up something new for the next one.”

            “I admire your optimistic look on things.”

            “Hey, you’re going to be alright. From what you’ve told me, those guys in bathroom were probably right. It sounds like Nate’s new relationship is doomed to fail, and that’s your chance. I don’t think it makes you a bad person to want your own happiness more than someone else’s. Anyways, how’s that project been going? Are you going to finish in time for the university’s application due date?”

            “Maybe. Before today I would have said probably not, but I have a feeling I’m not going to want to go out much more for a while. I have until October to finish everything. Are you sure you’re not going to mind doing the art assets for it?” I asked, even though I knew she’d do whatever she could. We met only a few months ago, but she was already just as much a best friend as Sara was, even more sometimes. There were just things I could talk to Meghan about that I couldn’t with Sara and Nate. Even though we talked face to face like this, it was nice to have someone who didn’t exist in your daily life that you could just vent to.

            “Of course! We’re going to work on this together and submit it as a joint effort. I can’t just let you go off to college in San Francisco by your lonesome,” she said enthusiastically.

            Right, San Francisco. By this time next year I might be packing up to move to a city where I know absolutely no one. It was exciting, but at the same time, it was absolutely terrifying. I felt alone enough right now in my childhood home.

            What would it feel like to be really alone? I wondered.

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Chapter 3

            “Erica! ERICA! Your loud and obnoxious friend is at the door,” Mom yelled, waking me up.

            The clock on my phone read 8:25 AM. School started at 9:00 and my alarm was set to go off at 7:30. Must have slept through it, I thought. So who is here to make sure that I don’t duck out of classes today? Nate.

            “Tell him I’m sick!” I yelled back, tilting my head just barely off of the pillow so that my voice was audible enough to make it to my parents’ room.

            “Tell him yourself!” Mom yelled back.

            Ugh. Maybe if no one answers the door he’ll get it. I heard the door swing open. Or he’ll come in because he knows better than to ring the doorbell twice when my parents are home. I started fake coughing furiously when I heard his footsteps climb the stairs. Part of me hoped he would leave me alone, but I knew better.

            The door to my room rattled. I yelled at it, “You can go without me! COUGH COUGH, I’m definitely sick. Don’t come in; I wouldn’t want you to catch whatever this is. COUGH. ACHOOO! EWW IT’S THE GROSSEST COLOR OF GREEN I’VE EVER SEEN.” A lot of guys like to pretend that girls are pristine and certainly not gross, so hopefully that scared him away. I hid under my blanket and pillow just in case he still came in.

            Behind my door, the voice simply said, “Too much information,” and continued to walk in. Sara ripped off the cover and fluffy object I held over my head and she said, “Really? You thought that I wouldn’t look for you underneath your bed spread?

            “Leave me alone!” I whined. “I don’t want to go to school, I want to stay home and bake cookies with you.”

            “Pshhh, we’re not going to school.”

            “…Then why are you here?” I asked, confused.

            “Yesterday was Nathan’s birthday and you didn’t send me even one stupid ‘kittydog’ sticker on Facebook. Not even a sad one. It wasn’t hard to figure out how bad things must have gone,” she said sympathetically.

             I muttered under my breath. It probably sounded like, “Beendpupat.”

            “What,” she, understandably, asked.

            “They’re ‘Bee & Puppycat’ stickers. It’s a webshow that had like 4 episodes release before seemingly disappearing off of the face of the internet. I wonder if they ever finished it…”

            “Really, that’s all you have to say? You don’t want to talk about it or anything?”

            “Not really. Short version: Nate thought Sam gave him the letter because I forgot to sign it and then he asked her out.”

            “Ouch. I get it now. Alright, now hurry up and get dressed so we can go out,” she said, taking a seat at my computer.

            “But I don’t wanna,” I argued.

            “I don’t care. It’ll make you feel better, I promise. If you’re a good girl, we’ll stop by that chocolate store you like.”

            “The one with the special candy from that one country I can’t pronounce?” I asked.

            “That’s the one.”

            I hesitated. I really didn’t want to go out, but on the other hand… “Fiiiiiiiiiiine. Ugh, why do you make me do stuff?”

            “Because I love you,” she said as she clicked the icon labeled “Project” on my desktop. It had been a few weeks since I’d first shown it to her, but I really hadn’t gotten that much more done.

            I grabbed a towel from my closet and as I walked out I said, “I bet you say that to all of your best friends.”

            “You’re right, I’m a best friend slut. As soon as I find six more best friends, I’ll be able to hang out with each of you one day a week. You’re my first, so I’ll let you pick out which day you want. Personally, I’d go with Saturday because it’s Saturday, but if you get those Monday blues, it could be useful to have a best friend around. Have your people get back to my people and we’ll finalize everything,” she said, waving me away like she was too important for me.

            Once in my bathroom, I checked my face again to make sure all of the makeup came off yesterday. Sara knew I was emotionally wrecked yesterday, but I didn’t want her to know how badly. If I could go back and make myself clean up before talking to Meghan on Skype, I definitely would.

            Let’s be honest, I thought, I wouldn’t have listened to me.

            That’s true, I thought back.

            Great, now I have two different voices talking to themselves in my head, I also thought.

            A fourth thought busted in, Make that three. And with me…

            It’s never going to end at this rate, I finished thinking.

            After cleaning the parts, I stepped out of the shower, grabbed a bright orange towel, and walked back to my room, hair dripping a bit on the carpet as I went. It was times like those that I appreciated not having slick, hardwood floors to drip then slip on.

            When I walked into my room, Sara was completely tuned into my project. She probably didn’t even hear me come in because of the headphones. I tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. She jumped a bit before turning and saying, “Well, well, well, if l knew you were approaching me wet with just a towel on, I would have worn a sexier pair of underwear. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you see my ‘Grandma Panties’.”

            “You never wear Grandma Panties. I spent a week at your house last year and when I went through you drawers looking for something to wear, all you had were pieces from Victoria Secret,” I said.

            “Maybe I just swapped them all out just for you. Can’t have you thinking I’m some boring cat lady,” she said seductively as she winked.

            “Or you’re just a sloot,” I answered back.

            “I’ve only been with one guy so far, and that was because of a lot of alcohol and a lot of bad decision. Really though, I read in one of those self-confidence books that you should dress in a way that makes you confident. Scandalous underwear just happens to give me confidence, even if the only one who ever sees it is my cat, Pajamas.”

            “So, as I was originally trying to ask, where are we going? I need to know what to wear,” I said.

            “Just casual stuff. We’re going to go shopping, then go for lunch, and after that we’re going to get a message, then get our nails done, and finish it up with a hair cut,” she said as if it were just an ordinary day’s worth of activities.

            “Ughhhhh. That’s a lot of effort.”

            “I promise. If you make it through all of that, we’ll hit up the sweet shop.”

            “Yay.”

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