Chasing the Future

I'd met Noah through a friend of a friend.

I had been somewhat acquaintances with Nora, who was friendly but not too friendly with that boy Tyler. Tyler was actually pretty good friends with Noah, but Noah was just friends with everyone, because that’s the type of person he was.

And I’d met him at a bonfire get-together which was much less fire and much more getting together than what I thought it would be when I first caught word. A farewell summer sort of thing, in the forest behind the park that everyone had sentimental memories of as a kid. When the small children had been tucked away fondly with nightfall, the large group of teens had grouped together with alcohol stolen from their parent’s cabinet and pot bought off that one guy’s older brother.

I sat on the dry grass only a couple of feet away from the flames, the fire’s warmth crawling over my skin. The sky was a harmony of indigo and navy spilling into each other, faded slightly by the permanent stain left by generations of shining light.

The stars still twinkled brightly anyways, winking down at me from up in their home in the sky.

I was faintly reminded of The Lion King and Mufasa's words, of how they were the souls of those that had passed on. Not that the lion could know they were actually exploding balls of gas, but it was a nice thought to hold onto. That when I died I'd become something so spectacular and not worm-chow. Nora was always into that sort of deep philosophy though.

It was a nice type of night. The type a poet might mention artfully in one of his works or the sort star-crossed lovers may lie beneath with sweet nothings in the air. For me though, it only held discomfort.

Nora had forced me to tag along to make new friends, moving only a couple weeks before I was in the awkward “new kid” stage where I was only talked about and never to. I figured maybe people would be drunk enough to make an acquaintance. My expectations had vanished as I realized there was a lot less friend-making and a lot more catching up on memories I wasn’t a part of.

I could hear my mother’s words drifting through my mind, “find some common interests”, but there was nothing in common as everyone was incredibly drunk and I was incredibly sober.

This was all so different than home, the only place I’d ever known, where nothing was new, only regurgitated from months before. But I liked it like that, where the drama was the same and the gossip hardly ever changed. I didn't like change. I liked home.

This wasn’t home.

The only time I’d ever needed to have the approval of the people around me was back in kindergarten on the first day of school, where I didn’t know anyone except for my cousin in the grade above me. He refused to talk to me anyways, but I made do. Then recess rolled around and Timothy Matthews, a mischievous little kid, had dared me to eat an entire worm he’d found by an old tree.

I didn't seem to have many options as his eyes left no room for argument. All I wanted was for people to like me. The worm squirmed in my fingers, revolting me how impossibly alive it was, as my eyes absorbed what appeared to be my afternoon snack. Hesitantly, I accepted the challenge and gulped down my fear, the worm falling not soon after.

I instantly became well-liked, receiving high-fives from everyone because of my bravery and courage. Even the boys were in awe. And even though by the end of recess everyone only cared about how Glen’s mom brought him McDonalds and my heroic feat was swept under the rug, I never had to prove myself again.

Though, I doubted I could make new friends in this school by eating worms.

I wanted to leave, retreat back to my bed, under the periwinkle covers and try to forget this ever happened, but I couldn’t. I knew that I had the worst sense of direction ever, coupled with the facts that this entire area was completely foreign to me and the forest behind seemed menacing enough with looming trees and daunting shadows playing between the moonlight, I didn’t want to risk my life. There could be bears.

Awkward and new and waving the smoke from my eyes, murmuring “white rabbits”* under my breath, I sat

Then a tan boy with short hair too light to be black and too dark to be brown, sat beside me. I gave him a look, a mixture of surprise and confusion. He returned it with a smile that almost seemed sloppy if a smile could seem so.

His first words to me were: “I don’t know you.”

And mine to him were: “I don’t know you either.”

I’d like to say that they were incredibly metaphorical with a dark but enlightening meaning behind the surface, that between the lines of our conversation held the answers to the universe, but that wasn't the case. In truth, in reality, we simply didn’t know each other, and that was that.

As if to prove this point, his following words were, “Your shoes are really cool.”

It almost seemed like I forgot about what I was wearing on my feet when I glanced down to see the floral pattern on my snug shoes, before staring blankly back up at him. He took a swig of his beer with a grin. I felt a loss for words, but that wasn’t anything unusual.

Making friends seemed a lot easier twenty minutes before when Nora was assuring me everyone in this town, except for “that bitch Melissa” who was a “boyfriend stealing slut”, was awesome. I wondered if she thought this boy was awesome. And then I wondered if he actually was.

“Are you awesome?” I asked. He paused. I blinked.

“It’s hurtful that you’d ask such an obvious question.” Laughter chased after his partially slurred words and he slightly began to rock in his seat. I figured this wasn’t his first beer, but I couldn’t say if it’d be his last. He seemed relaxed enough as he pressed the rim of the bottle to his lips, finishing it off.

Silence draped over our heads as I stared into the cackling flames, reaching into the night sky with all their might. A boy with dark skin and the whitest teeth I’d ever seen, who I faintly recognized as Tyler when Nora pointed him out before, threw another block of wood into the fire. He was the one to orchestrate this entire thing, after all, and invite Nora along. I guess he would be the one to tend to the small things.

“Come on, Ana! You’ll make some new friends! It’ll be so much fun, I swear, if not I’ll shave off my eyebrows and eat ten goldfish,” she’d told me. I realized that she never fell through with any of the fanatical promises she made. I don’t even know why she even said it, but she did, and I’d come.

Maybe in some warped way it did work.

It wasn’t fun, but I supposed I wouldn’t hold her to it. In reality, it was only tense and terrible as I sat tongue-tied and wondering where the girl had run off to. No doubt falling in love with some boy, the summer heat enveloping her skin and the alcohol burning down her throat.
I’d learned that she was the type of girl.

I’d only first met her a couple of weeks before, on a day that was scorching and humid that I could hardly breathe. She’d noticed my sipping on lemonade outside on the porch of my grandpa’s house. I doubted she wasted any time after seeing me before bounding across the street and introducing herself, promising to take me under her wing and teach me the ways of the town.

I didn’t really agree, but I didn’t object either. She seemed nice, and I liked nice people.

I watched intently at the sparks dancing with life as the log fell into the claws of the fire. Glancing to my right, the silence still thick, I expected the boy to leave. I expected him to find some entertainment far off and away from me. Most other people did.

But he didn’t. He stayed. I stared. “What’s your name?”

I didn’t know if he forgot where he was, or my entire existence entirely, but his dark eyes took a moment to register my presence. He probably didn’t even remember his own name. I wouldn’t be surprised. He was rocking a little more now.

In that odd way that can’t be explained, I already liked him. Even if he was drunk. Even if he would probably never remember me. I liked him, I decided, and that was that.

“Noah,” he answered with a grin too large and dark eyes reflecting the flickering flames. For a moment I was completely smitten by the echo of light, stealing a few more moments blankly staring at him.

He didn’t seem to care though, and even though it didn’t seem possible, his smile seemed to grow.

‘What’s yours?”

“Anastasia,” I murmured, running my fingers through my hair and focusing my gaze on the ground.

“Like the Russian princess?”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that before, but unlike usual I felt a small smile curve onto my lips as if it was. She actually wasn't a princess, but a duchess as I always liked to point out, but I didn't correct him. I only smiled. I’m not sure why, but I did.

“Like the Russian princess,” I confirmed.

My grandpa always called me that, his princess; even though I was almost positive I didn’t have a drop of royal blood in my body. Ever since I was a little girl he’d rustle my hair, never failing to ruin it every time, give me that smile that accentuated the wrinkles carved in by old age, and tell me I was his princess.

Maybe I’d be someone else’s princess one day. Maybe I’d be Noah’s princess. I doubted it though, mostly because I was old enough to recognize the wishful thinking I’d been fond of ever since I was a kid, but not old enough to stop the dream from unravelling.

The smile that touched my lips was soft.

Maybe there was something more underneath our simple words. Maybe what we both really needed was someone different. Maybe that was the reason why he stayed and I stared. Maybe we were both trying to find something in the other that we couldn’t find anywhere else.

I couldn’t be sure though, because our conversation ended there.

I’d met Noah at a farewell summer sort of thing behind a park, and we had a conversation that may or may not have held all the answers to the universe. At the end of our insignificant words, everything stopped, and he turned his head behind us to threw up all the pretty little contents of his stomach onto my arm.

I’d met Noah through a friend of a friend, and when I did he puked all over me.