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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Brandon's best friend, Aleta, changes cliques, and Brandon is devastated. My first short story.

Submitted: June 01, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 01, 2008




I never thought this would happen. I never thought that this could...

She was my best friend. What had happened?

I sat in the corner of the room and stared at the other side, thinking. Was this what I have been reduced to? Was it?

I couldn't end like this, I couldn't. I must hold on. I can't let go. Never. Never...

Not like this.

I remember it perfectly.

How could I forget?

We were younger, maybe 8, still playing in sandboxes and smashing ant holes.

Then we were nine. And ten. And eleven.

Then we were 12.

I liked her.

I LIKED her.

And then.

We were 13.

Then she changed.

She was not the black-eyeliner-push-you-into-the-pool type of girl that she was before.

She first started changing at the beginning or 8th grade. She had jumped between the two realities, leaving myself to my own.

And her to everyone else's.

We were always loners.

Nobody wanted to be with us, nobody.

We didn't know why.

We didn't care.

We were happy.

But she still made that jump.

She was not her.

Why had she changed into the pink-skirt-look-at-me-i'm-so-hot person she was today?

That's why I'm here.

Sitting in this corner.

Just waiting.

For her to change back.

But I doubt she ever will.

I heard a knock on the door to my room. "Brandon! Time to eat!" My mother, obviously. And I'm obviously Brandon.

I opened the door, but she had left, so I hurried out, avoiding the punches that my older brother was throwing at me. They were idiots, in my opinion.

I sat at the table. "Brandon, you know it's your turn to stand," my mother said. I stood up, reluctantly. The table was only large enough for three people. For some reason my mother bought a triangular table.

She handed me a plate filled with eggs and bacon. I ate it up. I was hungry.

I put my plate in the sink, and wondered.

"Mom? I can go out?" I asked.

"Yeah, whatever. Be back before lunch though."

Sweet. I turned to the door and opened it. It was about 30 degrees, and I thought it would snow, but it didn't.

I didn't care anymore.

I walked out, with shoes, to the middle of the yard.

That's when I heard my name.

"Brandon! Brandon! Brandon!" it chanted. I looked left and right, but I couldn't see anyone. Was this inside my head?

"Brandon, it's me." I turned around. There she was. The jumper.

"What?" I snapped.

"Can I apologize?"

"No," I replied and with that I turned around and walked toward the road.

Aleta followed. I just kept going. How does she feel now?

"Brandon! Wait!" Aleta said. I ignored her and kept walking. I just kept on walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Her voice disappeared over the wind's. Her face grew blurry as I got farther and farther away.

She was not chasing me.

And for that, I was glad.

I could never forgive the harrassments I heard coming from her mouth.

I could never forgive the pain I had suffer through.


But could she be acting real today? or was it just another one of her little schemes that she had to do weekly to me, or she was back in my reality.

But of course it was a scheme.

She would never be back.

I had accumulated a burning hate for her.

Why was she doing this?

I turned around and saw nothing. She had left, or maybe I was just to far away.

Yes, that's it.

I've just been walking

and walking

and walking.

Do you know what it feels like to walk?

Having no one with you?

Being all alone?

I do.

I do.

I'm getting closer to the bad part of town. The town where all the crime was. Aleta lived here.

Our families were never really "rich." Though her family have always been off a little worse than mine.

Until her father won the lottery.

Maybe that was what had changed her? Her family won millions of dollars, but still did not move out of their small house.

"We want to make it safer here." That's what they said.


That's all they were.

Making it safer was just the opposite of what they were doing.

Her father's out of prison now. Free.

Doesn't he realize that he will never be really free?

Nobody is ever really free.

Only me.

I'm free from the lies and the hate.

I'm gone now.

And I ran.

I ran.

and ran

and ran.

Nobody found me. I kept going.

Why does no one care about the loners?

I do. And she did.

Bu she left me.

So, she never really cared.

That's when she called my cell phone.

It was a non flip phone. Just an ordinary Motorola. But I worked my butt off to pay for it.

I answered the phone.

"B...Bran...Brandon?" I heard on the other line.


"What?" I replied sharply.

"Help me."

Then I heard nothing.

Nothing at all.

And that scared me.

If she needed help why did she call me? She could just call her "friends.

But, I still had feelings for her, despite this.

I knew that inside, she was still the Aleta I knew and loved.

I don't know where she is.

I called her.

It rang a couple of times.

No answer.

I knew Aleta wasn't dead. But then.

What was that feeling?

My heart. I clutched my chest as I fell closer to the ground.

The pain.

I can't breathe.

My body won't let me.

And then.

But that's it.

Was there a then?

Was it over?

Then I could breathe.

My heart had stopped hurting.

And inside I knew.

Aleta had died.

I do not know if it is true.

But what I felt.

It doesn't just happen every day.

Can I sense when people I knew die.

So I ran.


and ran

and ran.

Running free.

I'm nearing Aleta's house. There are two cars in the driveway.

Her parents must be home.

I glanced through a foggy window and saw no one.

It was nearing lunch.

I should probably go.

But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to. I have to find Aleta. I wasn't going to leave her alone. I wasn't going to become a monster like herself.

I wasn't.

I ran away from the house.

Scared to death.

Funny I had to bring death into it.


I came to an alley, halfway beween my house and Aleta's.

We used to come here before.

And talk.

I walked into it.

and then.

And then Aleta was there.


Her eyes glazed over, and a knife through her heart.

My eyes watered.

Who could've done this?

If I ever find them.

I will kill them.

I never knew how much I loved her until that moment.

And to never have told her...

I cried.

And cried

and cried

and cried.


My love.


How could this be true?

Then it began to rain.

I pulled Aleta closer to me, and removed the knife from her heart.

And I cried

and cried

and cried.

This was not happening.

I sat there.

The rain hitting me.

Holding Aleta.


I picked up the knife and examined it, the rain washing away the blood that was on it.

On it was R.N.

Rick Nelson.

Oh my god.

Aleta's father.

Had she killed herself?

Or was it her father that was too blame?

I didn't want to leave Aleta.

But I had to.


I can't.

I must.

But there's one thing I have to do.

I leaned and kissed Aleta on her forehead.

"I love you, Aleta."

I must take her, just to her house. To tell her parents.

I picked her up, and carried her, silent the whole way.

And then.

And then.

I reached her house.

The cars were still there, though when I looked in the window again, nobody was there and all the lights were turned off.

The door was unlocked. I pushed it open.

I found her room. It was covered in posters of boy bands and pop singers.


I placed her on her bed and I kneeled down beside her.

I brushed her hair out of her face. "Goodbye, Aleta."

And then I left.

I ran along the street, which was covered with puddles. The rain had slowed down to a sight drizzle. I was wet and cold.

So, I ran.

And ran

and ran

and ran.

I ran home.

I opened the door.

It was past lunch.

"Finally!" my mother yelled. "Where have you been? And why are you all wet?"

"It's raining." I said plainly as I ran a hand through my hair.

"Go and dry off."

I left the room, and went to my own. I didn't bother. Why should I?

I was alone now.

Me and Aleta were never to be together again.

I layed on my bed and fell asleep.

And then.

And then dreams.


"Brandon." I recognized the voice immediatly.


"Yes." She nodded. She was identical to her living self, which was now dead, but transparent.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"Because I love you," she replied. I didn't know you could feel pain in a dream. But I did.

Not physical.

But it was pain.

I was sure of it.

I woke up instantly.

I knew what I had to do.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.

I must think. Do I want to do this?

She's changed back, I'm sure of it.

Should I?


Yes. Yes. Yes.

The tip of the knife touched my skin.

I plunged it in.

I felt no pain.

And then.

And then I saw her.

So, I ran

and ran

and ran

and ran.


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