I was walking down the sidewalk, not really thinking about much but thinking about everything at the same time. Just not in depth. Not like when I went scuba diving. Not that deep. Shallow, like the water in a kiddie pool. That's how I liked to think. Kiddie pool style. Slap. Went my crocs on the sidewalk as I plodded home. Slap. Slappity Slap. It was like a conversation between crocs. I had always been a slow walker. I had always blended in. My mother likes to call me Gweda the Chameleon, but seeing as I am not a small reptile, I don't see how the nickname fits. Still, like a chameleon, I love to blend in to my surroundings. Seeing as I am walking down a bush-lined sidewalk currently, I try to act as shrub like as possible. That is, until, I hear more foot-slapping from behind me. I turn, and there is a human being, a real live human being, standing on the sidewalk behind me.
"Herro," I waved and smiled to appear friendly. No one usually talks to me at school. Which is not to say that I don't talk to them, but whenever I say something they give me a funny look and walk away. So I don't interact much with people of my age, which is 16. Some people call me a loser. So I guess that makes me a loser chameleon.
"Hey," says the boy, adjusting the straps of his backpack. He doesn't make any move to walk away from me. I stand there open mouthed in shock and a lazy fly flies straight into my mouth and begins to spaz. As I claw at my face and gag and cough and spit, the boy just kind of stands there. Maybe he's a chameleon too, I think to myself. That's a darn good shrub impression that he's doing.
"Nice," I say, as soon as I spit the spaztic fly out of my mouth. "I notice that you're also a chameleon. Like me."
"Um," he says, scratching the back of his head. "Sure." He begins to walk away.
"Now just you wait a diddly darn minute!" I grab the collar of his shirt and pull it tight to choke him so that he can't get away. "Us chameleons, we have to stick together," I say wisely. Like Dumbledore. Dumbledore, the loser chameleon. That's what I am.
"Let gooo," he wheezes, twisting out of my grasp. I oblige. But as soon as my grip losens, he doesn't sprint away like I would have expected him to. I stand there, mouth open, but then close it quickly on account of flies. And that's when I remember that he is impersonating a shrub so that's why he hasn't run away yet. I bet you my spleen that he was wishing that shrubs could sprint just as fast as Usain Bolt.
"Here, we're even now," I say, as I jokingly tug on my shirt collar.
"STOP!" he cries, prying my hands away. His brown eyes are wide. I can see little reflections of myself, standing there, little minature Gwedas.
"Wut," I ask. "Why." He shakes his head, scratching his neck again. "Do you have hives or something?" I ask, because he really needs to stop that. He shakes his head, still scratching, which is like making a peanut butter sandwich and then someone walks in and asks you what you're making and you say caviar: a lie.
"You," I whisper, "are lying." He gives me a weird look and I decide to shut up. We stand there in an awkward silence for a few moments.
Then, he stuck out his hand and said, "Devon."
I grabbed his and pumped it up and down enthusiastically. "Gweda. Or you can call me Gwe. Or Weda. Or just Da."
"Ok Gweda?" he says it like a question.
"It sounds like a cheese," I remark, staring off into space, "Gweda cheese. Let me grate you some Gweda," I joke. A strange look passes over his face as soon as I say the word "grate." His eyes light up, like he's just had the best idea ever. He grabs my arm.
"Gweda," he says, "You have the prettiest face I think I've ever seen. Those eyes are like stars," he says, peering at me. I blush. No one's ever said that I am pretty before. I decided right then and there that I love this boy. I duck my head and shyly lick my collarbone as I contemplate the first compliment I have ever recieved in my life. Lick lick lick. Yum.
"Th-" I say, unable to complete the word. "Th... thaaa... thanks." He grabs my arm and tows me down the road, at a speed that is very unshrublike.
"Wait!" I protest, wanting to point out his mistake. Instead of recognizing his error, he just looks confused. Which is almost as cute as grits for breakfast on a Sunday. "If I were a dog," I say quietly, "my tail would be wagging." He smiles widely, and grabs for my arm again. We continue walking and I can barely contain my happiness. I even open my mouth and try to catch a few more lazy flies, just for fun. I inhale deeply. "I just love the smell of rain." Devon looks at me out of the corner of his eye.
"It's not even raining," he says with just enough sass to be a perfect shrub.
"I know, you sass muffin," I say, pinching his cheek, "but that doesn't mean that I still don't love the smell. Which I do. It smells like toads." I affectionately lick his cheek, which tastes a whole lot better than my collarbone did.
"Okay... sure," he rolls his eyes which makes my heart skip a beat. He looks really hot with just the whites of his eyes showing. I wish I could freeze time and murder him and then stuff his body just like that so that I can oggle over him whenever I so desire. "Um I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house?" he asks shyly. I nod without even thinking about it. It's not like I am going to abandon a fellow chameleon in need.
"K bro," I say, just like I've heard kids at school say a thousand times before. I put on some invisible sunglasses, and mutter "Swaggie," under my breath. If I want to keep my newfound friendship with Devon, I have to be cool like he is. All the way back to his house, I waddle like a gangster, muttering "Swaggie," under my breath periodically.
And all I can think is yay.
