73 Memories

The Second Memory

It was my first day at my new school when I saw you again. I was sitting alone at lunch when I looked up from my book, having felt someone's gaze on me. I quickly found who it was, and it, of course, was you. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but when you saw my face they smoothed out into their usual shape.

And then you looked away, saying something to one of your friends. You smiled at the one you spoke to before punching his arm, and I found myself slightly curious as to why you did that. I watched as you scooted the chair out from the table and walked towards me, a smile playing on your lips.

It seems like you're always smiling.

"I thought I recognized your hair," you said, laughing as you pulled the chair out next to me and flopped down in it.

"My hair is recognizable?" I always thought of it as boring, average.

You nodded, and a piece of your hair fell onto your forehead. You pushed it back after a second. "Yep. It's this weird brown color, but it's also got a slight bit of...blonde. And black. I don't know, but it's awesome."

I snorted. "Thanks, I think. I um, was born with the blonde in there, but I added a little black."

"Why?" You tilted your head to the side, and instead of telling a lie, like I had originally planned to, the movement seemed to blow the truth out of me.

"I guess I wanted to see if my dad would notice." I shrugged a little and picked a tater-tot off my plate, putting it in my mouth and chewing.

"What did he say when he saw it?" I couldn't tell if you were actually curious, or just holding conversation. But your friends, though you couldn't tell because your back was facing them, were staring at us.

"You assume he actually realized what I did," I retorted after I swallowed.

"Well, yeah. He's your father, he has to have noticed," your response, though it wasn't supposed to, hurt me a little. You were right. He had to have noticed. But he didn't, and I couldn't even get mad at him for it. My dad, he had a lot going on at the time that I had done it. That doesn't make up for everything else, but still.

"Well, he didn't." My tone must have shown the hurt you made me feel because when I looked up at your gray eyes, you looked like you were sorry.

How could you be sorry when you didn't even know half the story? For some reason, there was this illogical part of me that was tempted to tell you what the story was, exactly. But I knew I couldn't, because that would defeat the whole purpose of moving, of changing my name. Besides, how was I supposed to know I could trust you then? So when you apologized, I waved it off. "Don't be sorry, I didn't mean to snap like that," I waved your apology off like I didn't have a care in the world.

You smiled and nodded, and we didn't speak for awhile. When the silence became long, and I guess a bit too awkward for your taste, you got out of your chair. "I guess I'll see you."

 I nodded and you waved awkwardly, having to make your hand go low so I could see the gesture without having to look up at you too much.

And then you were gone, and my food was cold.