The Awakening

Nostalgia

I sat at my lunch table with my usual lunch group, Elena, Nora, and Chloe. We were talking about my favorite TV show, 'Friends', and Nora and Elena (sometimes I call her Lenny-- but that is because we are best friends. No one else is allowed to call her that. Everyone else calls her Lena for short, because no one could ever say her name right,) were comparing everyone to who we would be if we were in the show. 

According to Nora and Elena, Chloe would be Monica—always trying to control everything, doing whatever it takes to do well, and prove that she is always right.

Nora would be Phoebe—the hippy of the group, who always had crazy far out there theories, and super impulsive.

Elena would be Rachel—the one who everyone loved right when they met her, the down to earth one, and the prettiest of the group.

And I of course would be the girl version of Chandler— I'm the spontaneous one, the one who is always doing awkward things in an uncomfortable situation,  and the one who does well in school with minimal effort.

As Chloe was blabbering on trying to convince Nora and Elena that she would be Rachel, I glanced up and saw him walking— carrying his lunch across the quad. He always ate his lunch by himself in his car now.

It's not like people don't like him, and won't give him a chance— he just won't give them one.

Girls always whispering about how attractive he is, and how they wish he would ask them to school dances. How they would be able to crack his introverted exterior.

The boys always want him on their gym sports teams. He was really athletic, and a really good team player; but he would hardly every talk to anyone—even if they were on his team during gym.

Liam had really filled out over the last few years; he is well over 6-feet tall now, with a face that could make an angel cry. He always wore the same type of outfit: strait legged jeans, with a white shirt with a flannel over it and Vans. If it got to hot, Liam would just tie the flannel around his waste, and in the winter he would wear a simple sweatshirt over his tee-shirt.

 His brown hair is always done perfectly: pretty short on the sides, with medium on top that made a heavenly swoosh that kept it back. He has a little birth-mark on his throat that he has always been embarrassed about; that I always loved.

I could get lost in Liam's milk chocolate eyes. Back when I knew him—the real him and not this recluse of a teenager—they used to be soft and loving... and full of compassion. When he would laugh the corners would crinkle in the most adorable way possible.  He used to be my best friend.

As I watched Liam stride across the quad towards the parking lot, I remembered the last time I had a real conversation with him, like it was happening now, even though it was during the summer between 5th and 6th grade and I am now a senior in high school.

My family had just gotten back from our yearly vacation to Hawaii; I couldn't wait to see him after having no contact with him for over three weeks. Right when my family pulled up to our Northern California home, I had ran over to his house down the street. I could hardly wait to give him a fat hug and tell him I missed him the whole time I was gone.

 I had even spent hours combing the beach to find the perfect shell to bring back to him. Hours after dark I finally found one that I knew he would love. It was a spiral shell that looked like a mini-conch. I knew he would love it because we used to watch SpongeBob together when my parents were at work and his mom was watching me. Liam would always pretend the Magic Conch told him to do something to me when his mom wasn't looking: like throw a pillow in my face or eat my snack.  

 I had it clutched in my hand when I rang the doorbell, practically bursting with joy to give him his present. His mom answered the door with red, puffy eyes. I loved Ms. Karen, and I could tell something was wrong, but when I asked she had just said "Nothing dear, Liam is in the basement, he hasn't stopped asking when you would get back since you left." Confused, I walked down the stairs to the basement.

 The pillow fort Liam and I had made the night before I left was still up. Thrilled, I ran over to it and slid in the fort, kicking something hard as I made it all way in. The thing I kicked yelped, and when I saw it was him, his eyes were red and puffy too. "Oh no! I'm sorry Liam! I didn't mean to kick you, please don't cry!!" I plead with him.

 His face flashed anger— and not the fake kind when he pretend to be mad at me but a kind that made me scared of him. "GO AWAY! I'm not crying!" he had yelled at me as he crawled out of the fort. I followed him, almost crying myself "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I really missed you... but look! I have something that will make you feel better."

 I tried to give Liam the shell, but he wouldn't take it. I was trying to make him hold it but he was resisting, yelling at me to get out and leave him alone. Finally, he took it. For a split second I thought all had been forgiven and I felt happy until he threw the shell and it shattered against the wall.

 "I told you to leave me alone!" he screamed at me. Now I really started to cry. Right as I started to turn on my heels to run away I saw regret twing in Liam's chocolate brown eyes. I ran away from him as fast as I could, tears streaming down my face while he yelled after me to come back. But it was to late.

 "Right Kate?? I am totally the Rachel of the group, not Elena." Chloe said, snapping me out of my thoughts and obviously irritated that everyone had lost interest in her argument.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you can both be Rachel." I agreed just to let her spat be settled. Chloe opened her mouth, probably to tell Nora and Lena 'I-told-you-so' but the lunch bell rang and drowned out her voice, telling Elena and me it's time to go to AP Physics.

The memory of that morning with Liam, all those years ago, already fading into the back of my mind.  I haven't talked to him since.