It was only about seven-thirty PM when I got to Georgie Williams house.
Georgie had been an old friend of mine before I went into 6th grade and I was pulled into the "popular crowd." She was my best friend and looking back on it, I was probably the shittiest friend in the history of friends to have ditched her so easily like that.
And here I am, crawling back to her after a rough dinner with my mom and Joe, in hopes of putting hope into something like salvaging our friendship. Not to mention that she had a piano in her finished basement that only her mother plays and I hoped that maybe she would allow me to play it to relax.
I parked on the curb across from Georgie's cozy house, knowing that it would be kind of rude to just park my car in their driveway when I haven't talked to her, or her family in seven years.
Taking a deep breath, I got out of my car and walked briskly to her house, a brick house that we always said the Big Bad Wolf could never blow away.
I wrapped my light leather jacket tightly around me, feeling thankful that I opted for skinny jeans instead of shorts. The day had been warmer earlier, but now the unforgiving cold returned.
I fidgeted with my hair, put in a loose braid, and thought about how I hadn't even put any makeup on. I normally had mascara and at least some chap stick when I'm going somewhere, but I had removed the mascara when I got home from school and my already chapped lips were a reminder of my forgetfulness.
As I raised my fist to knock gently on the door, I wondered why I went immediately to Georgie after all these years. I could've gone to Dylan if I had wanted a person to talk to. It would've made more sense. But instead my mind was set on auto-pilot and brought me here.
After some shuffling I heard on the other side, the door is swung open to reveal Georgie's older brother, Patrick, who goes to the state college that isn't too far away from where they live. I guess he's visiting. He looked at me warily, uncertain to who I was at first.
"Who are yo-" Pat began, but stopped when he took in my whole appearance. I wasn't completely unrecognizable, but I had definitely changed since 5th grade.
"Hi, Pat," I greeted him quietly, "it's Christine."
Pat furrowed his eyebrows and assessed me. While he did that, I did the same; I took in how his dirty blond hair was still styled up with some gel in a way that reminded me of a skateboard ramp. He'd gotten much taller, probably being at 6'2 while I was 5'8. He still had his simple style, wearing regular jeans and an orange t-shirt with Adidas sneakers.
"You look different," he stated.
"So do you," I replied.
"What are you doing here, Chris?" Pat leaned against the door frame and bent down slightly to look me in the eye better.
I shrugged, shaking my head, "Honestly? I have no clue."
"What do you mean, you have no clue?" Pat exclaimed.
I let out a groan of frustration, "It means exactly what I said! I don't know why I came here to see my best friend that I haven't spoken to in years because I ditched her for some really bad friends! I don't know why I got yelled at by my mom and why she blames me for never keeping a husband. I don't know why I would think that Georgie of all people would be the one I want to seek some consolation from!"
I didn't exactly intend to let out the ramble of words that escaped from my mouth, but they did anyway.
Here I was, standing in front of my ex-best friend's brother, explaining to him the exact reason why I don't know why I'm here. Here I was, a lost friend hoping to be found again.
Pat, with concerned eyes, opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a very familiar voice, "Pat, who's at the do-" And just like that, my best friend who'd I'd ditched seven years ago stood before me, with her jaw hanging open.
"Hi."
