What I Can't Recall

“I can't believe him. What a pity kisser!” Ellie says, disgusted, after I relay the story to her. We're sitting on her bed, looking at magazines. After Sarah picked Bryler and I up from the mall, it was a little awkward at home, since Bryler and I aren’t speaking to each other. Or at least I'm not speaking to him. I'm not sure if he's avoiding me or not. I asked Sarah if I could go to over to Ellie's house, though, and of course she agreed. Sarah just eats up anything that seems normal; any sign that I am one day going to be a normal teenage girl again.

I love it at Ellie's house. It always smells like cookies, because that's what Patsy, Ellie's mom, does for a living. Bakes cookies for her bakery. But of all the things I love about Ellie's house- and trust me, there are plenty- my favorite is Ellie's room. Ellie's room is painted lime green and is covered wall to wall with posters, various calendars, fashion tips she's cut from magazines, and lots of pictures. Pictures of me and her, of her and Jason, of Bryler and I, of Seth and Derrick, and other random combinations of the aforementioned people. She even has one or two of the whole group of us together. Not to mention, on the right wall there is a huge bookshelf filled with any type of reading material you could ever imagine. Especially magazines. Seventeen, Cosmo girl, Teen Vogue. You name it, and Ellie's got it. Every issue of it.

“I know. I just can't believe he'd do something like that just to make me feel better or whatever. It's totally misleading,” I say as I'm reading an article called “10 Ways to Meet a Hottie at the Beach”. After a moment of silence Ellie responds.

“Well, did it?” She wants to know. She looks over the top of her magazine; a thoughtful look etched onto her face, which is rare for her. She must be piecing something together, because that‘s the only time she ever wears a look like that.

“Did it what?” I ask her unsurely; not knowing whether she means did it mislead me or make me feel better. I honestly don’t want to answer either of those questions, but I wasn’t thinking about that when I asked her to explain.

“Make you feel better,” she clarifies, rolling her eyes as if I should automatically know these things.

“Well, uh… yeah, I guess. For a minute. But then I realized it was just a pity-kiss,” I say, not taking my eyes off my magazine, though I‘m not longer even attempting to read the article.

“Wait, do you like Bryler?” Ellie asks me, sounding as if she's just made the discovery of the secret to life. She’s grinning tremendously, and it makes me want to go slam the back of my head against a wall repeatedly, because she‘s figured it out. To think I’ve managed to keep her thinking otherwise for the last two years, and now is when she figures it out.

“Well, yeah, he's my best friend.” I say, knowing full and well what she's talking about, but playing dumb. That was the only possible solution to the moment, even though I know it only solves the problem for half a second. “I wouldn’t be friends with someone I hated.”

“No, do you like like him?” She asks, as if this made perfect sense. Which it does if, you’re a teenager or ever were at one time. Because every teenager knows the difference between like and like like.

“Well, uh, I...,” I say, turning red, and stumbling over my words, as I tried to deny the truth. “I mean, er, no?”

She throws her magazine down and jumps up, a little too seemingly over-joyed at what she‘s figured out.
“You do! You like Bryler!” She says, practically shouting. And if it’s possible, that ridiculous grin of hers is even wider now.

“Could you be any louder?” I ask her through clenched teeth, aggravated at her and myself. I don’t know why I’m so concerned someone’s going to hear; we’re the only ones even here. Mrs. and Mr. Davison went out on a date.

“September and Bryler sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first-” She begins to sing, only to be interrupted by me, who is seriously contemplating punching her in the face.
“Shut up!” I yell at her, raising my voice as loud as I can make it go.

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” she mutters under her breath, making a face. This only makes me madder, and I already feel like I’m going to explode.

“No, somebody just had a really crappy day!” I exclaim grouchily, sensing that by saying this a huge fight is going to start, but not even caring.

“Well, maybe somebody shouldn't take it out on her friend, who has had a fairly good day and doesn't want it to be screwed up now!” Ellie says, seeming to only ever think of herself, which just ticks me off to no end.

“Well maybe somebody wouldn't be in as bad of a mood if she didn't have such an inconsiderate friend!”

“Well maybe somebody needs to learn that it isn't all about her and that other people like to have happy lives!” She says defensively, raising her voice a little bit higher than it had been before.

“Well maybe somebody isn't the one who needs to learn that it isn't all about her! If she was, then she would be the one that is totally blowing off other peoples feelings right now!” I go off, sure my face is red with anger. If it weren’t for the fact that a few feet now separated us, I would have definitely have already socked Ellie in the face.

“Well maybe somebody needs to just get over the fact her dad doesn't want her!” She yells, as loud as ever. And then she’s as quiet as ever. There is a long, long silence. Minutes go by before I calmly say,
“Well then maybe somebody will just leave.”