The Boys I Used To Know

When We Were Young

"'When you smile, I melt inside. I'm not worthy for a minute of your time. I really wish it was only me and you. I'm jealous of everybody in the room...'" I sang the song my older brother was playing on his guitar.  He was sitting on his desk chair while I sat on the small sofa in his bedroom. The sunlight shined through his window illuminating his guitar. 

Blink-182 was my brother's favorite band. When Jake actually allowed me to be in his room I felt like the coolest person in the world. He had attempted to teach me to play his instruments but it never worked out. So I stayed away from those strings and used my voice instead. 

"You know, you're not too bad for a six year old," Jake laughed. He had dark curly hair like me but it was much shorter. He would've looked weird with my long hair. Boys should always keep it short. Guy's hair always got icky and oily when it grew too long.

"You're not too ugly for a ugly kid." I responded. Not my best retort, I must say, but I was young. 

He stuck his tongue out at me. It was purple from the lollipop he'd just finished. 

I responded the best way I knew; I stuck my tongue out too. 

"Danni!" I heard my mommy yell from downstairs. Wow, she called for me the one time I was actually allowed in Jake's room. Not cool, mom, not cool.

Jake kicked me out, telling me to go downstairs and see what Mom wanted. 

When I reached the kitchen my arms were crossed and I pouted. What did she want?

"Danni, two young boys are here to see you," she winked. "They're at the front door and one says his name is Dillon."

Dillon? I didn't know a kid named Dillon. I passed mom to go to the front of the house. This kid just shows up and interrupts time with Jake and he doesn't even know me? Who did he and that other boy think they were?

I marched to the front door and glared as I opened it. 

"Hey," Mark said. He stood on the other side of the threshold with Ian Bryce, looking uncomfortable. They were wearing jeans and matching spiderman t-shirts. They were both from my school, and neither of them were named Dillon.

"Why'd you say your name was Dillon?" I asked the black haired boy Mark, not even saying hello to either of them. 

"That's his other name," Ian, the dirty blonde, explained.

"You mean his last name?" I asked. This kid was five, he should know what a last name was.

He put his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, that's what I meant." 

"Well, what do you guys want?" My arms were still crossed.

"We should be friends. I mean, we're already bus buddies," Mark said.

"You are asking me to be your friend?" I asked. "Shouldn't that just happen on it's own? You know, we find stuff that we all have in common and build off of that."

They looked at each other and then back at me, not knowing what to say. Was I speaking another language? Did I have something in my teeth?

"I guess so," Ian said finally. "But we don't like dolls."

"Who said I liked them?" 

"You're a girl," Mark pointed to my long brown hair.

"No, I'm a tomboy. Well, that's what my brother calls me. I think it's a good thing."

"Oh. And that means you don't like dolls?" Ian asked.

"Yeah."

"Then, we all don't like dolls," Mark smiled.

That's when I knew we would be best friends.