Who We'll Be

“I think that's him, sweetheart,” she says.

“Where?” I look around. “I can’t see him!”

“Right there.” She points a finger, but there's nothing but people with luggage in their hands.

Once more I tried to look, and this time…

…I see him.

Oh, my heartbeat.

I blink. Twice. Thrice. I need to make sure my eyes aren’t at all deceiving me.

It’s him.

It really is him.

It had been five years. Five, best friend-less years, and as memories tumble on and about inside my head, I feel myself roaming away, obstinately bringing back my days on...

...my childhood.

* * *

“Give it back!” I screamed.

I stood on my toes and stretched my eight-year-old arms, all for the pouch of candies on the boy’s stubby hands. It was a desperate attempt. I don’t recall his name—I just remember him being stupid and smelly and bullyful ( if that's a word) and all—so in my head, I named him Kumquat-Faced-Meanie—because despite his ginormousness, his face was disturbingly oblong-shaped, which kind of reminded me of a kumquat, and he’s mean to people.

“If you want it, come get it then!” he said, laughing his butt-crack off.

Kumquat-Faced-Meanie was about a foot taller than me and was the biggest kid in town, so taking back my candies from him was hard work. At that moment, his kumquat-shaped face was red and ugly just like his two stupid friends' beside him who were laughing so hard.

“Here, catch!” he yelled, throwing the bag over on one of the two boys. The boy who caught the bag ran across the playground, and I ran full-speed after him.

The afternoon was about to sleep, and it signaled the sky that shone its orange light around us, stinging my eyes a bit.

“Give it back…!” I panted. Sprinting around for about five or so minutes to get your pouch back from a sidekick of a kumquat is seriously pant-causing, I tell you. “Give it back…or else…!”

The boy just laughed at me and threw the bag back to Kumquat-Faced-Meanie.

“Or else what?” Kumquat-Faced-Meanie snickered. “Or else what, huh? You gonna run home crying and tell your mom or something?”

“No,” I said sharply. “I will punch you right in your ugly face until you’re the one who will run home crying on you’re momma.”

Kumquat-Faced-Meanie just laughed harder than before. “Oh, yeah? Then do it, you small brat!”

My blood boiled.

So he wants some Kumquat-Faced-Meanie punching, eh?

Well, I’ll give it to him, all right.

I cracked my knuckles, and my fist came pummeling right into his kumquat face.

“OW!” Kumquat-Faced-Meanie almost fell, and the bag of candies flew on the ground.

This time, it was my turn to laugh. That’s what you get for challenging me, I thought, feeling all badass.

I was about to clutch my bag of candies and stick out my tongue in a victorious manner, when Kumquat-Faced-Meanie pushed me hard on the shoulder.

“Why, you…!” he shouted, his face transforming into a freshly-harvested tomato.

My heart stopped as he raised his fist in the air, ready to give a death blow. Fear slithered inside me. I closed my eyes.

I’m gonna die, I thought.

But I need to say goodbye to everyone first.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Mr. Chumchum, my teddy bear.

Goodbye, Mommy.

Goodbye, Daddy.

Goodbye, my dear bag of candies.

There were crystal streams on my cheeks.

There I was, thinking of my farewell to the world, and I remember hoping for a giant monkey - I don't remember why, okay? - to come and eat Kumquat-Faced-Meanie, when I heard a voice beside me.

At first I thought it was an angel, because it sounded celestial and all, and because of the thought that I was going to die and stuff.

But when I opened my eyes, it wasn’t an angel.

It was better.

“Hey, are you seriously gonna punch a girl?” he had said earlier.

He was a boy about a year or so older than me, and he was tall and slender, his long dark hair spiky, kind of like a porcupine's. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, had this studded bracelet on his wrist that was a little too big for him. He was staring directly at Kumquat, standing with so much confidence, and just by looking at him left me an inkling that maybe he’s the kind of guy who, not to be stereotypical, but who—which I realized later that he ALWAYS does—get into fights. And did I mention that he was also handsome-ish for a little boy?

“Mind your own business, freak,” Kumquat-Faced-Meanie said.

“Did you just call me a freak?”

“Asking for a fight, Winter?”

“Bring it…you pile of shit.”

I was crying my eyes and clogging my nose out the whole time, so my vision was very blurry, and all I heard were the cracking of someone’s bones.

The moment I had wiped the tears that I can finally see a clear view, Kumquat-Faced-Meanie and his friends were running away with my bag of candies.

Porcupine Boy ran after them, but it was too late.

After a few minutes, he came back to me.

“You alright?” he asked.

I pouted at him.

“I could take them by myself you know!” I said as I sat on the swing near me, and I was still crying, and I screamed at him without even thinking what I was saying out of anger at Kumquat-Faced-Meanie and the guys who took my candies, because I so badly wanted to be the one to beat the poo out of them.

"I saved your butt and that’s how you thank me?!” he shouted.

“I didn’t ask for your help!” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Now leave me alone!”

“Fine!” he said, and turned away, just like that.

But as he walked away from me, I realized something. I was mean to Porcupine Boy. I shouldn’t have done that to him.

I was wrong.

But I can’t call him back now, he’ll think I’m weird or something. Because if I did call him, what will he do? Sing me a lullaby to stop me from crying? Right.

I cried louder.

To my surprise, he stopped and looked at me, his eyes as wide as ping pong balls.

He shuffled back to the swing near me, where he was standing before.

“Stop crying…!” he ordered as he walked closer, a soft hint of worry in his hard, bossy tone.

I tried to stop, but I can’t. Instead, I sobbed louder than ever.

“Don’t cry…!” he yelled again, and this time…

…our eyes met.

And something happened.

Something magical.

Something...something inside me, felt like it suddenly flew away with wings, though I knew it wasn't suppose have wings, but it did. It soared into the clouds overhead, and it stayed there...

I stopped crying so loud, but tears still cascaded down my face.

“Here.” he said as he removed his eyes from mine, and I could just tell...he was blushing.

“Have my candy.”

He reached his hand out, and in it was a lollipop he just took from his pocket.

A heart-shaped lollipop, a big pink ribbon with light blue glitters on the stick, which made it look very expensive. I may not look like it, but my biggest weakness is...sweets. I don't know why I don't get fat. Perhaps I have worms in my stomach. Gross. Ugh. Why do I have to suddenly think of worms at this moment in time anyway? Worms doesn't have anything to do with sweets and lollipops and good-looking boys....

I looked at him nonetheless, speechless.

He just smiled.

I quietly took the candy, where in that short moment, that our hands gently touched.

Out of the blue, I suddenly realized what that feeling was. You know, like the ones on TV.

I think it was...

“I’m Sky, by the way,” he said. “Sky Winter.”

“I’m - I'm Symmery,” I managed to speak. “Symmery Belle.”

A chuckle.

“What a stupid name.”

“So is yours!”

“Hey, I was just kidding!”

I took a glance at his gift and then at him.

It was obviously a candy only a girl would buy, and I tried tear away and not snort at the thought of Porcupine Boy buying it in the store.

“Did you buy this for yourself?” I blurted out, and wondered if there can be a sillier question.

He blushed and was looking very surprised. “What? I…”

“Actually, I already… meant to give it to…” His cheeks became rosier even more. Porcupine Rose Boy. “to…t-to…someone.”

“Oh.” Ouch.

“To who?” I asked impulsively, not caring if it’s my business or not.

He was as red as ever when he looked away.

He looked at this girl a few feet away, playing with some other girls on the seesaw. Unlike me, she was blonde and has many friends and has a friendly smile and as girly as a girl could get. It took me ten seconds or less to realize that it was Rowena, the prettiest girl in my school.

“To Rowena.” It wasn’t a question.

He was still looking at her, and what had been in the sky before suddenly felt like it was falling down from the angels and the clouds, falling with its wings broken, to the ocean…

...breaking.

“Then give it to her,” I told him, handing back the lollipop.

“No, I already gave it to you,” he said.

“But it's not for me.”

“No, I was…meant to give it to you instead.”

I can’t help but smile at that.

“I-I’m sorry about earlier…” I finally managed to apologize. “And…thank you.”

He smiled, and suddenly...my heart was fluttering with the angels again. “No problem.”

I unwrapped the thing, threw the elaborately-styled ribbon on the ground, licked the lollipop uncaringly. Strawberry-flavored.

“So we’re friends now, right?” His smile was even wider than before.

“Whatever you say,” I said. “But next time, I’m the one who will beat the crap out of that Kumquat-Faced-Meanie.”