July/August 2014

We could tell each other anything there The day I abandoned my best friend was the day I lost myself. With her I was everything, and without her I was nothing. It was a rainy day, and I was lying on a fluffy pink mat in Ashley’s room. There she was, standing, legs crossed, but not enough to hide the trembling. There she was, long dark hair tied back in a messy ponytail, unwashed and uncombed. There she was, biting her nails. Ashley never bit her nails. I had a hard time believing this creature was my best friend. And yet here she was, reduced to a nervous wreck, awaiting my reaction to her unbelievable announcement, “I’m moving away.” My reaction was stalking out of that room without a backward glance. She did not try to stop me. It turned out I never entered that room again while Ashley lived out her few remaining months there. The very next day during lunch I made a beeline straight for Jennifer and Tiffany’s table. I avoided catching Ashley’s eye. Instead I focused on laughing to Tiffany’s incredibly stupid jokes. Ashley was much funnier. I called my mom on my cell after school. “Hello, Mom.” “Hi, June.” “Mom, can you drive me home?” “Honey, don’t you want to walk home with Ashley?” “Well… I want you to drive me to Tiffany’s house. She invited me over.” “Homework?” “None. Mom, I always finish my math. It’s easy.” I could hear a sigh on the other end. “Coming.” Then she hung up. So that’s how my life became—going over to Tiffany’s house and watching horror movies with her and Jennifer, eating junk food, and making Tiffany’s mother angry. It wasn’t ideal, but I thought I handled it really well, until the day Ashley moved away. That day I spent sitting on my bed, clutching a bowl in my lap in case I threw up. It was a good excuse for staying home. After all, I had thrown up more than once as a result of eating too much junk food at Tiffany’s. Though that day I don’t think my nausea was caused from an upset stomach. *          *          * At dinner a month later Dad mentioned he’d be coaching cross-country at school. I had already signed up and when I told him he was delighted. “But Dad,” I said, “I’m short. I won’t be very fast.” “Nonsense,” he said. “You’re very athletic. I’m sure you’ll have a medal in no time.” That’s when I knew I had to get first place. Otherwise no one would ever treat me like a thirteen-year-old girl again. No girl my age was as short as I was, although Ashley had been pretty close. My mom broke into my thoughts. “Pass the potatoes, dear,” she said. “And oh, that reminds me, a new family is moving next door. The Reeds. And, June,” she turned to me triumphantly, “they have a daughter your age!” I sunk into my chair. Great, I thought. A new girl. I will have to walk her to school and be her friend and listen to her sniveling. “What’s her name?” “Melissa.” I hated Melissa Reed. *          *          * It was the day before cross-country was to begin and I decided to go for a run. I pulled on black running capris and a neon-green T-shirt. I used an athletic headband to keep my hair out of my face, then tied my black ponytail with a hairband. Bronze skin, shoulder-length black hair, short but strong. That was me. I ran out the front door into the crisp, fall air, heading down the sidewalk. Suddenly I stopped short. There was a moving truck in the driveway of Ashley’s house. A door opened and a tall, slender girl with a dark brown ponytail came out. She turned and looked at me. Her eyes. They were cold, cold blue eyes. Under her gaze I felt vulnerable. Turning, I sprinted up the street, rounded a corner, and slowed into a jog. Her eyes were still there, imprinted in my mind. I couldn’t shake them away. Without meaning to, I took the route to the park Ashley and I always used to go to if we had anything serious to talk about. I crept underneath the willow tree next to the lake where we used to conceal ourselves. We could tell each other anything there. Ashley. I got up and ran away from that place. Tears blurred my vision. I tripped and fell on the pavement, lay there, sobbing. Ashley. Ashley. Why don’t you come back? I heard footsteps behind me and turned, still crying. For one stupidly hopeful moment I thought it was Ashley, but then the cold blue eyes made themselves known and hatred consumed me. “Go away!” I shouted. “Go away, go away, go away!” She stared at me with wide eyes, then sprinted away. I watched her fade into the blurry background of birdsong and swaying trees. Then I laid my head down on the hard pavement and knew no more. My mom came to get me later. She said nothing, only looked at me anxiously and wiped my tears with an old handkerchief. It was already wet, perhaps from her own tears. I was too sleepy, my face raw from crying and my head aching, to care. My last thought before I fell asleep was, cross-country tomorrow. I woke up. Cross-country today. I walked Melissa to school, sat with her in the classroom and at lunch, navigated her to her classes and to the bathroom, listened and answered her questions and was her all-out friend for an entire day. It was exhausting. I couldn’t look forward more to cross-country. No Melissa there. How wrong I was. I suppose through my haze of tears the day before I hadn’t noticed she was wearing running capris and tennis shoes just like me. But there she was, and quickly she sidled up to me. Groan. My dad whistled piercingly.