"How come people have to change?" I sighed, nearly whining. We were outside your house on the porch. The sun beat down on my cheeks. Our argument was about things we did and how it affected the
decisions we made. I thought you had chosen an odd choice. You thought it was the right one.
"People change. Get used to it. Sometimes, especially in this case, you don't have a choice. I had to change." you said politely. I rolled my eyes.
"Change into a monster? You have turned into a massive walking hurricane. You are unpredictable these days." I cried. You tried piercing me with your eyes, but my words were powerful, ready to knock you off your feet and destroy you.
"Should I take that offensively?" you said, atrociously. You tightened your grip on the pink plastic cup halfway filled with lemonade. It then cracked at the top. Was that my head you just split open? Drops of lemonade dripped out from the crack. I think my brain was losing all memory.
"Look, I tried listening to you. In fact, I did listen to you at first. But after you began complaining countless times, every time, I began to lose interest in someone who was planning a disaster in their life, and others. You... you made me feel implicit." I said with grandiloquence. The scorching California sun boiled my pale skin, as I took a step out from the shade provided by your porch. I hated the sun. I still do. I felt dizzy at the moment. You were confusing me. I could tell what you were thinking. Or could I?
Why did I ever fall into this calamity?
"You think that I don't like you. Well guess what? That's not true. You believe that I have snappy friends that disappear rapidly within my lifetime. But really, I'm not ready to let go of you. Nor will I ever let go of you. Ever. How could you believe that I act that way? You are a very special one-of-a-kind person that I was very fortunate to find. Don't you realize that? Why, without you I would honestly be nothing. Absolutely nothing. How come you find it so easy to get rid of me? I feel so immense around you. Why would I want to lost my friendship with the person who taught me what friendship is?" I said frowning sympathetically. You took a step closer to the sun, so just your tanned toes were roasting on the edge of the concrete sidewalk. You looked down at them, then looked back up at me. I hardly ever looked at you, especially when we argued.
"I taught you the meaning of friendship?" your eyes widened.
"Yes." I winced. I felt an intense knot in my stomach. What was going on?
"Really." I snapped.
"Oh." Did this just happen? Do I sense a strange alien connection?
Suddenly a long pause crept over Music Street. I decided to look at you. Look at your eyes. Look into your eyes. Whenever I did, I always had a flashback of when I first met you. I always thought you were weird.
"I always thought you were weird." I said out loud.
"When I first saw you. The day I met you." I finished, with an ireful look on my face. I could tell my cheeks were burning red. I pressed my hand against my cheeks. I could almost hear them sizzle.
"Me too..." he said matter-of-factly, "Am I still weird?"
"No. It was just a bad first impression. As a matter of fact, it was an AWFUL first impression. You seemed like a dork. But I think we are all always a little bit strange forever. What about me? Am I still weird?"
"No." you replied. You blinked. Another pause. But this time it was much more unbearable and painful than the last one.
"So... are we neutral now?" you said finally, leaping off a risky tall cliff, not knowing if there would be a parachute or not. I wanted to save you. We were so young. So I answered:
"No, we are allies. Better than neutral. Let's go get some ice cream." I said grinning, giving you my extra parachute.
"Let's. I'm buying." you smiled, grateful of the parachute I gave you. I loved your sweet smile. That very one you gave me let me know that everything was going to be okay, and even if things weren't okay in the world, we would always have each other.
© Copyright 2016 EmmaRuth. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Young Adult
Poem / Poetry
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