If I Die Young

Jamie Marie Lewis was the strangest girl I had ever met. She never went by her real name. She went by Moose. She even introduced herself as that. The nickname came from one of her life long friends that just so happened to be one of mine, too, Jackson. He called her that because when she was younger she carried around a stuffed animal moose. The name just stuck.

Our friends introduced us. They said that we had to meet. Most of them were protective of her, claiming she was like their sister but they thought I would treat her well. Jackson introduced her as Moose. I didn’t like calling her that but I didn’t know her real name at that time. I remember that night at the party where meet. I had finally got her alone outside. I remember the look on her face when I asked her what her real name was. She smiled, saying that no one asked her that anymore; they just called her Moose. But none the less, she told me her name was Jamie Marie Lewis. I have never called her Moose since.

She had long red hair with a slight wave to it. It wasn’t annoying; it was cute. She had more freckles than most red heads. They seemed to multiple every time I looked at her. She always wore a smile. It wasn't a fake one. Every smile was a genuine as the last. Every time she smiled, anyone around a ten mile radius of her had to smile too. Her laugh was as contagious as her smile. When she laughed, it was like music to my ears. She barely wore any makeup. Her clothes consisted of skinny jeans with holes in the knees and tops that had holes in them and were frayed. She had nose rings on both nostrils and hip piercings she had gotten one drunken night. She could care less about the way she looked.

She was strong, independent girl. Jamie had been hurt before. You could tell it by her eyes. Even though her face screamed happiness, her bluish-greenish eyes silently showed the pain in her past. She didn’t trust many people. When I finally got her to trust me, her friends told me I was their hero. You could always tell when she was thinking. Her lips would form a tight line and she would stare at one spot. When she was nervous, she would bit her lip and fiddle with the loose strings on whatever torn top she was wearing that day. She never told you when something was wrong. She kept to herself. You would have to pry it out of her. She never cried; she thought it was for the weak. Jamie was too sweet for her own good. She never said anything bad about anyone. But if you messed with her friends, she would punch your lights out right then and there. She didn’t believe in love. She thought it was only for fairy tales. She didn’t care for regrets. She hated when people claimed they regretted something. She had no regrets, including the hip piercings she got on a drunken night. She said that what you did and how you handled it made you the person you were. If you regretted everything in your life, then that means you hate your life. Jamie loved life more than anything in the world. Sure, she had it hard. She was kicked out at 16, moving into our friend’s, Zach, house. She didn’t care though. It only made her stronger. She had a lot of theories she would share to us from time to time. She was always thinking. Her brain never seemed to stop working. Jamie believed in God. She knew he had a reason for everything so she never worried. She would spill her secrets at random times once she trusted you. Once she told me that she stuck her cat in the toilet to see if it would flush. Another time she told me that she put pot in a guy who beat up her little brother locker so he would get trouble. But the one that caught me off guard the most was when she told me she knew she was going to die young. The oddest thing was that she didn’t really mind it at all.