Smile

Freshman Year

It was you and I on a Saturday night, laying on a picnic blanket underneath the stars. I wore my prettiest red dress with white flowers which covered almost everything. You wore a red polo shirt teamed with a pair of khaki pants. The moonlight shone bright, and the stars danced along the sky, as you and I took turns naming constellations. We each stifled a laugh as we got one of the names wrong. Then the moment came, you turned over, and I found myself staring into your kaleidoscopic blue-green eyes. They reminded me of the color of the sea, an illusion, at one angle blue, at another a deep green. The truest color could never be determined. I felt you shaking, no shivering, out of nervousness. As if you didn't know what would come next and if you were ready for what was to come. I pulled back a piece of your dark brown hair out of your face, and you leaned in. When our noses were merely touching, I took my index finger, put it to your lips, and said: "No, not yet." I got up with an unexplainable burst of energy and reached out my hand to you. It took you a few seconds to grab mine, as you were still processing what happened, and I helped you up. Confusingly, you said, "Where are we going?" I dragged you along the tall grass lining the soccer field until we reached The Spot. The Spot comprised a huge lake which seemed to change color now and then. Now it was a navy blue and the reflection of the moon on the lake emit glittery representations of the stars. Around the lake, there was a soccer field which seemed to stretch for miles and was surrounded with luscious green trees. We were both breathless, and after a few seconds I said: "We're here." You glanced around and said, "What's so cool about here?" I took your hands and shifted from side to side in a synchronized rhythm. "We dance the night away." I closed my eyes and took in the swaying winds, the smell of the outside wilderness mixed in with your cologne. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. A cycle I've been doing for so long seemed so important to me now. Each breath I took, I felt more and more in a dream, I suddenly felt the sound of the crickets chirping disappear into an echo, which was now stored in a section held deep in my brain. Inhale, exhale. Now the burst of energy I'd felt before turned into a wave of drowsiness. My field of vision was pitch black. Had I gone blind? Was I moving to the afterlife? Two questions, whose answers it would provide me oh so soon. Beeeep! Beeeeep! My alarm clock rang with a start. Not dead, I thought to myself. I opened my eyes and my vision wasn't gone. Not blind either, I continued. I sat up in my bed, my back slouched, and a glum expression on my face. It upset me that the Saturday night fantasy wasn't a Saturday night reality and not just another thing I had brewed up in my imagination. Especially in class, when the teacher would call your name and you'd answer whichever question with such confidence, it seemed like you were 1000 percent sure of what you were saying. I missed the days when my fantasies were more likely realities, like in the beginning of the year. When we rode our bikes after school to the drugstore. Or when we talked for 5 hours over video chats speaking about subjects that didn't make any sense to us. Yet here we are, a Thursday in June, two days before the last day of the school year. I'm wore my ripped jeans with a paint-stained hoodie, you were wearing a black hoodie with light wash jeans. The sunlight directly hit your eyes, causing you to shield them. "The Boys" immediately began to call you nicknames such as chicken, weird, and blind. Your eyes open wide at the last one. I'd just remembered you had a visually impaired sister. You told me you'd come home nightly to her sobbing and her lips quivering because that's what people would call her. You grab your navy blue backpack and run outside the door. I followed you, I followed because I wanted to prove something. I wanted to prove that I'd do anything to see you smile.

"Ty!"

"Oh, so now you talk to me."

"Listen, I don't want to have the whole 'who isn't talking to who' conversation right now. But what they did back there, that was hella rude of them. You have every single right to stand here and walk out. And you may go back in there and set them straight, or I will."

You leaned against the cement wall and slumped down. "I can't." That was the most surprising piece of information I've ever heard. "You can't?" I reassured that what I heard was in fact correct. You explained why you stopped talking to me, your voice getting shakier with every word. "The first day of school, when we walked in and saw what looked like paradise, it amazed me. Then I learned something in Peer Counseling that ruined everything. My teacher Mrs Andrews called it the 'continental drift'. Let's pretend that we're Pangaea" - breath - "and that the earthquakes are all new friends and opportunities. Now, after all that, we are separated into continents or cliques. So when I joined 'The Boys', I put up this bad boy image of myself. Ever since then, I've been Ty the Bad Guy and not Ty the Shy Guy." My heart sank at the thought of losing you to some wannabes. Just seeing you sad made me sad. I hugged you, my arms reaching to your left shoulder, and I put my head on your right. The fabric felt like a sheep's wool, soft and comforting. "You'll always have me. Even if you become one of those wannabes, I'll still be there for you, because I like you." I did not just say that. Oh wait, I did. You turned over, and I looked into your now bloodshot kaleidoscopic eyes. The sea was now filling with clouds. A tear rolled down your cheek, and I snatched it away. "I like you too. I've always liked you." You lean over and kiss me on the cheek, then get up and start heading back to class. When I finally got to class, the wannabes were waiting for me. All stereotypical jocks, with their letter jackets, and basketball in hands. "Hey, Chucky!" One of them calls, his hair in a buzz cut, and eyes bigger than a hamburger bun. "What do you want, Silvester?" I shouted at Simon Silvester, head of the basketball team. You looked at me with an apologetic look and mouth I did nothing. "Heard you got a new b-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d!" I mouthed back, Trust me on this. "Yeah, I do! So what?! You wannabes probably want to be with him too, don't you?" The whole class exchanged oohs and ahhs. You held back a laugh and watched as the whole basketball team stuttered. More oohs and ahhs came this time, now you chimed in. "Just admit it, you can't get enough of this." You ran your hands down your torso. The class burst into laughter, including the teacher. I knew that freshman year would end well. And it did, the last day of school. You asked me out, and it wasn't for show and I said yes.