Right Next Door

Chapter One

        I remember the day we stopped talking. But I didn't know then that it was for good. He had called me an obsessive freak. In front of everyone. It was in sixth grade. He was starting to get popular. And when I'd asked if he wanted to come over after school because it was sloppy joe day, he'd accused me of being in love with him and that's where the obsessive freak part came in. He'd said this loud and clear, knowing fully well that I feared inheriting OCD from my mother and that this insult would cut right to the core. In his defense, I had made the mistrake of approaching him while he was with his "guy friends." 

       Axel wanted to be popular. That had always been Axel's focus in school. Even in kindergarten, Axel was attracted to the kids of the rich people but he still played with me after school. But not during recess. And until the fifth grade, I didn't really notice this. I thought that people had home friends and school friends. I thought that he just wanted some friends who were boys. But then I realized how silly this way because I was perfectly capable of kicking a soccer ball in the backyard (even better than Axel sometimes.) It's not like I was forcing him to play Barbies with me. I just wanted to be his friend. Because that was all I knew. And that was what prompted me to make friends of my own. Friends like Grace and Ray and Tony and Anabeth. They were real friends. Unlike Axel. And it took me until fucking fifth grade to notice this. 

~        ~        ~

        "Yeah, no offense to you guys, but I really don't feel like coming to the beach just to watch you two eat each other's faces." Grace snorts on the other line. This is what Grace does when she thinks I'm being ridiculous--which is most of the time. 

        "We're not going to each other's faces, okay? I promise. Just come. Tony told Ray that he's finally going to make his move tonight." Now it's my turn to snort. 

        "Tony's been saying that since last spring. And has he done it yet? No. No, he hasn't. So I have no reason to be there." 

        "Jesus fucking Christ, Sloan! Stop being such a party pooper!" 

        "I'm not being a party pooper." This sparks one of Grace's famous rants about how I should really try new things, put myself out there, go out of my comfort zone, blahblahblah. In response to this, I put the phone on speaker, drop it on the bed next to me, and flop onto my stomach. My face is buried in the sheets and it's a bit hard to breathe. But this is what I always do to cope with Grace and her rants. 

        God. Grace and her rants. They were legendary, even to those who barely knew her. During class, she had a habit of going on these long tangents about silly things that really didn't require tangents such as why a certain math formula works or why cats purr. She can go on for forever about anything if you let her. You have to really know her to get her to stop. Certain things could just set her off further. 

        "Grace? Gracey? GRACE," I roar. She sighs quickly. 

        "Yes?" 

        "I'll go if you stop talking." 

        "YES. I promise Ray and I will not make out. Ohmygosh, this is going to be so much fun. We'll meet you there in fifteen? Or do you want us to pick you up?" I tell her that I'll meet her there. If I drive myself, there's more of a chance of an early escape. 

        Sometimes it's just easier to concede to get her to shut up. 

~        ~        ~

        The beach isn't crowded. Because who goes to the beach in Michigan in early October? Stupid people, that's who. And, apparently, I am one of those stupid people.