Dream of Me

November 6

Chapter 3

In high school, Irene and I dated for almost 2 years. It started out kind of unorthodox since we had been friends since middle school. After I went to her house that first time to help each other with homework, we had weekly study rendezvous, shifting from my house to hers. Eventually, we started talking about more than just homework. We started forming our worldviews together. Recognizing what was unjust in the world. Coming up with ideas about how to change the ugly things. Deep stuff for a couple of middle schoolers, but we started realizing, together, that there was more to life than homework and looking good and being good at sports and whatever else was important to our classmates at that time. Irene wrote poems, but didn't let me read them until we were in high school. Years and years of me gently prodding her to let me in, and she finally opened the door.

On our first day of grade 10, we were scared and nervous to take such a big step—at least it felt like one at the time. We walked in to the high school together, big eyes, sweaty palms, but with each other and that was all we needed.

"I can't imagine doing this without you. I wouldn't even know how to function."

"Me neither. Good thing I asked you to the science show a billion years ago. That was my plan all along, actually. I knew I would need a friend in high school and you were the best choice." At that, she playfully punched my arm and I, overdramatically, stumbled to the side.

"You are so dramatic!" she laughed and pulled me back up. Every time I did this she laughed. We had several reoccurring jokes and traditions that somehow never lost their initial humour. It was entirely likely that no one else in the world would think that our jokes were funny, but we didn't care.

"I think we have different classes first period. Good luck, partner. See you on the other side."

"There's the drama queen, again. Oh, wait. I have something for you," she handed me a folded paper with "A.D." scribbled on the top.

"Is this the payment for being your friend? Finally, I've been waiting for this for years." She rolled her eyes and punched me again. No, she didn't punch me again. She pretended to, but I still stumbled back. I did almost everything I ever did to make her laugh.

"Just read it. See you in a bit." I didn't open the folded paper until I arrived in my first class. Physics. I wasn't sure how I felt about physics. I loved science in middle school, but I had changed a lot in the years leading to grade 10. I opened the paper a few minutes before the bell rang and my first official day as a high school adult began.

And you still make me laugh

because you actually wear

plaid on plaid. You physically

clothe yourself in the biggest

faux pas of fashion and

you don't care. And now

I don't care. I think too many

people care too much anyway.

(It took me a few minutes to

even notice your clothes because

your smile was brighter.)

You still make me laugh because

In drive-thru's, you start pressing

buttons on the debit machine

before you even look at the screen.

You truly expect your pin to be

Accepted without actually typing

it into the right place. And

you don't care. And now

I don't care. I think to many

people care too much anyway.

Even when I'm mad at you, and

attacking you with my words

as a result of my insecurities,

you still agree to finish the rest

of my muffin. Because

you don't care. And now

I don't care. I think too many

People care about the wrong things,

and for the first time in my life,

I met someone that cares about

the right things. This makes you

the strangest person I know,

because you think differently

than everyone I know. And

you don't care. And now

I don't care. About anything

except the fact that I never

want you to be normal.

I.S.

I have to admit: in high school I was not the most "in tune" with romantic feelings or notions or introductions. To be honest, I'm still not, but I was even worse in high school. My immediate thought was that Irene knew someone else that she had never told me about, and that she was falling in love with, and that he sounded a lot like me. (That one day I wore plaid with plaid she had laughed for a full minute.) My heart was in convulsions even though I had not thought about Irene as anything more than my best friend since I had the idea years ago to ask her to the science show. Science show, science show. How many times do I need to say that? It was the start of everything. Of this everything. After class, I met up with Irene in the hallway to go to our next class.

"What did you think?"

"Oh, it was great. You're really good at poems."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Welcome." I was being weird. I knew it. I just couldn't help being sad and wanting to distance myself if she really was falling in love with someone else. And I couldn't tell her that I felt that what? What would she think? Maybe she wouldn't feel the same. Then what would happen to our friendship?

"August? What's going on?" I was walking to the bus and I didn't realize she had walked up to me.

"What? What do you mean? Nothing. I'm fine with you falling in love with some other guy. It doesn't matter! Whatever." ...Yeah, I know. Like I said, I wasn't that great with this kind of thing.

"What? What are you talking about? In love with someone else?"

"Yeah. The guy in the poem. How could you not even tell me about him? We're best friends. You should've told me as soon as you met him. What if he's not good enough for you? He probably isn't. No one is good enough for you. You know what, screw that guy."

"You ARE the guy in the poem, you idiot!" I knew that tone and I had only heard it a few times. She was upset. And at first I was confused, but as I watched her run to her dad's car, I understood. Oh. I'M the guy in the poem. So... she likes me? Is that what she means? I do start typing in my pin before looking at the debit machine. Okay, yeah. That makes sense.

I got home that afternoon to my father sitting at the kitchen table with Addy, eating an early supper.

"Gussy!" Her 6-year-old voice was still babyish to me, and whenever she called me Gussy I couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, kiddo. How was school today? Hi, dad."

"School was fun! We did colourstoday and I got paint all over my fingers and in my nose too. It was the bestday ever."