Set Me Free

Prologue

There's this girl who went to my school. She has wavy, dark brown hair just above her bellybutton and the best emerald eyes you'll ever see. Freckles lay heavily across her nose and cheeks and gradually spread out as if the wind caught them. She shared her secrets with me, like how she hides her 'important memories' in a shoe box under her bed and the freckle she has on her upper lip. Nobody would ever see it unless they were in her face, looking at her pale, peach colored lips. You see, when her lips are closed, it's hidden between them. She's tall too; she stands five foot ten inches. She is one of the tallest girls in our class.

This girl, she is a firecracker. She is vibrant and exotic and wonderful. It's all you can do not to look at her. Others maybe look at her for another reason than I do, but she's an attention grabber for sure. She probably wishes she wasn't, in fact I know she does. This girl is quiet, she prefers to ride the sidelines. She enjoys peaceful walks or listening to me play the cello while she rests. There is always a pencil in her hand, writing long hand letters to me and doodling little nothings and poems about the world. That's her favorite, poetry. She can read poetry for hours; she use to read it to me. We sit in the park's grass against the big tree or on a couch and her head rests on my thigh as she recited Robert Frost or Lang Leav, whatever she's in the mood for. And I listen. God, do I listen. I listen about her favorite pair of ripped khaki skinny jeans and how her brother was so excited to become a freshman and how she wants us to travel the world together. She made a list of places for us to go. For the longest time, I use to think I heard her every word. I must have missed something along the way, though. I thought I would've noticed if she said something negative, she was such a relaxed and positive person. She's polite, kind, and fairly optimistic. Then again, there was that day I was really scatterbrained and maybe it slipped by.

The first time I realized she had started creating her own sidelines, she shrugged me off. I asked what happened and she said it was nothing, just her cat acting out again. I didn't want to believe anything was wrong, so I took her word for it. She started hiding them better after that. I think I only saw them again twice before she left. The second was when she hopped the fence into the park, tearing a hole in the thigh of her jeans. We had only been messing around; the gate was open about three feet from where we were jumping over. The next was when we went swimming. I found out when you swim with a t-shirt that's too big, it balloons out under the water. I just happened to be at the right angle at the wrong time. I couldn't look at her stomach for more than a second before I felt like I was drowning, and not from the water. She denied it of course, no matter how adamant I was that she talk to me. We both knew she was lying.

Remember when I said it was impossible not to look at her? Everyone felt that way. I'm not sure what about her provoked them, the others. They teased her. Picked on her. Called her names. Closed her locker while she was trying to get her books. One person 'accidentally' knocked her lunch tray out of her hands - multiple times. She was never mad. She forgave them. She's exceptional like that. It's one of the things I like about her, and one of the thinks I hate. Sometimes I wished she would have told someone or retaliated, made them want to stop targeting her. Maybe she thought they'd just move on to someone else if she did; she didn't like the idea of anyone being bullied so I can see her keeping it to herself to spare someone else. All she did was stand there as they laughed. She'd apologize for something they said about her or wasn't her fault then excuse herself to her next class. I thought she had told her mom, she told me she had. She hadn't, I found that out a couple of days before she left. The same day the girls cut up her clothes during gym while she was running laps. She wore her sweats and I gave her the extra shirt I had in my locker. I don't understand why people were so mean to her. I was her only friend. I made sure I never missed school unless it was absolutely unavoidable so she'd never be alone. They were more gentle with her when I was standing there. I wish I could have been at her side all the time.

However, she always found time to smile. We smiled a lot together. We smiled about screaming poems and shitty sayings at the top of our lungs on the roof of an apartment building and about one day visiting Scotland (she really likes Scotland. She said the thought of it made her feel alive. I think it's the breathtaking cliffs and wide open spaces of green.) and about the way warm blankets made her feel while she drank a cup of tea. I miss seeing her smile. It's been so long since I've seen it.

Who is this girl, you ask? She is the most extraordinary person this world will ever know. She's the strongest person I have ever met. She is my hero, even when she feels like a bit of something on a bit of something else. She's my best friend. 

Her name?

Alexis Cross.