⚠️ This is a true story, unfortunately.
🖤1st in a series
✅Completed
I labeled this as teen "fiction" because my target age group usually thinks of self-help books or text books when they hear "non-fiction" and don't realize a memoir reads like a...
I felt restless giving Dan time. This went on for a couple weeks. I had no idea how much time was appropriate to give, so I had no idea when to stop giving it. Even if Dan was as awful as Kiwi said, I wanted to be able to get to know him and decide he was awful for myself.
I'll pick this back up a day toward the end of October. I sat at my desk, in homeroom, looking at all of the kids shoving their Ziploc bagged cereal in their wide open traps and asking each other if they saw whatever piece of shit about teen struggle was on television the night before. They didn't have a care in the world. I wished I could remember what that was like.
I snapped out of my stupor and noticed Kiwi, up at my teacher's podium; laughing hysterically about who knows what. I stood up to gather my things when Kimberly, a girl in the A row, turned and looked up at me. I didn't mind her; we'd gone to grade school together and spoke here and there. She was the grade overachiever and tried to copy my makeup. She also always hung around with Adam in eighth grade, when I couldn't get to him. I never fully forgave her for that. "Are you and Kiwi dating? You guys are always together." She was almost watering at the mouth, awaiting my response. I was expecting her to laugh and say she was joking, but she didn't. T: "...Are you yankin' my chain, Kim? He's my friend. Why are you with your girlfriends all the time? Are you a lesbian? Conceited man-child isn't really my type." I left her with what I thought was a sufficient answer, as I headed for the door. I couldn't believe anyone would think we were dating, like I would ever date someone so cocky, that thought they were the chosen one. Clearly, I was the chosen one. We couldn't both be.
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I noticed Kiwi fiddling with four oversized pins, as we made our way down the hall. He dropped one and I saw it was a picture of him, in his football uniform, posing with a football. T: "That's pretty queer. What's it for?" K: "The whole team gets them. They're for our families to wear to the games." T: "...Gimme one." K: "I can't, I only have four. I have to give them to my mom, aunt, brother and grandma." T: "Your grandma doesn't need one. She's gonna die before me; I have more time to get your monies worth." K: "...You have a point." We stopped for a second, as he pinned one to my sweater vest. T: "I'm trying this new thing called pretending I give a shit and supporting my friends."
When we got down to the cafeteria, I could see through the glass doors that everyone was already in there. T: "What the hell is this?" K: "Dammit! I forgot we had an early meeting." T: "What am I supposed to do!?" K: "I dunno, Prissy Princess. Whatever you used to do before you hung out with me." He laughed as if he knew what I was thinking: that I couldn't remember anything before him. I'd spent over a year without him and it was all just a blank. I swore I could remember him standing in the hospital room when I was born, like I never lived a day without him. I was still deep in thought, as he disappeared through the doors and into the sea of choir kids.
