The In-Betweeners

The first time Shane and I became true friends, I think, was the summer after freshman year. Prior to that we had never hung out. We had never gone to the movies, we had never been to each others houses, we had never seen each other outside school. Prior to that we had never really gotten to know each other. In school we talked about school things. We talked about our peers, we talked about our classes, we talked about how stressed we were and all things that normal aquaintences talked about during school. Because that's all we were: acquaintences. I wanted to become more than acquaintences with Shane, I wanted to become friends with her. I don't know if, at the time, it was because the mystery about her fascinated me or because it was what the school assumed us to be, but I wanted it. And the things I knew about her - her favorite class, the teachers she didn't care for, what she knew about that party that had been thrown last weekend and what she was doing when that party was going on (usually nothing) - did not define the person. I wanted to get to know her better.

And I guess to some degree she wanted to get to know me better too because at lunch on the last day of freshman year she came up to me and handed me a small piece of paper that had been ripped out of one of her binders. For a moment I just looked at it, I didn't understand what it was or what I was supposed to do with it. Then I looked up at her questioningly.

"It's my phone number." she said. "In case you want to meet up over the summer."

I didn't know how to respond. My parents had bought me a cell phone the year before, but my only contacts were them and my siblings. No one outside my family had ever offered me their number before, I didn't quite know how you were supposed to react in a situation like that.

"It's my cell, by the way," Shane added as she sat down across from me. "So you can text me."

And just like that, our friendship became more than what the school thought it was. There was no discussion about it, she did not ask me to be friends she simply offered me the opportunity and left the rest to me. So I did not ask her any questions, I did not try to discuss it with her, I simply pocketed the small, ripped piece of paper and continued to eat my lunch.

It was two weeks before I worked up the courage to ask Shane to hang out. I had thought about calling her the day after she gave me her number, but I didn't want to seem pushy so I decided to wait. The day after that it was the same excuse. After a week of this I began to realize my own subconscious fear of her rejecting my invitation, which was stupid I suppose considering she was the one who had given me her number to begin with, but it still took me another week to build up the courage to write out the text.

Hey Shane, do you want to hang out this weekend?

There. It was simple but didn't seem reluctant. I stared at it for a moment and then pushed send before I could talk myself out of it. Then I waited. At first I simply stared at my phone, anxious for her response, but after a few minutes of this I decided to read to pass the time, every few moments checking my phone just in case I missed it going off. One hour, eighty-two and a half pages in The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, two sodas, and one bag of chips later my phone finally lit up and buzzed. For one breathtaking moment I just stared at it. That moment felt longer than the past hour, that moment felt like torture, because that was the moment I'd been waiting for; the moment when I'd get an answer, the moment when I would know if my friendship with Shane actually was a friendship or just something that I had imagined. I picked up my phone, suddenly wondering if I wanted to read the text at all, even after all my impatience to get the text I now was wondering to myself if it was what I really wanted. Regardless of whether I wanted to or not, I opened it.

Sure.

That was it. I just stared at it. At first I was a little annoyed that it had taken her an hour to write just one four letter word, but then relief filled me that of all the four letter words in the dictionary it was a good one at least.

Okay, is Saturday good?

I texted back. The reply was much quicker this time, I had barely went to put my phone back down on my nightstand when it vibrated in my hand.

Yeah, you can come to my house at 12. I'm #3 on Baker Street.

Okay, I'll see you then.

I answered and then turned my phone off, I wasn't expecting a reply from her at that point. Then I picked my book up and began to read again, finally able to concentrate on the words on the page instead of the words I had been expecting on my phone. I now had something to look forward to, for once. There were only two days until I would be hanging out with Shane.

Only two days until I could finally start to be able to define the person.