A Love Like War

I was six. He was eight. His mom and my mom were literally inseparable; they’d been best friends for ages. I don’t remember why I hadn’t met Alex before. I think it might’ve been because my mom didn’t think I was old enough to deal with Alex up until I was six years old. I kind of wish she’d realized that I’d never be able to deal with Alex, and had never introduced me to him. But, hey, can’t change that now, can I?

Anyway, we lived in the almost-small-town of Essex, England, and it was Alex’s eighth birthday party. My mom had told me we were going to the party, then followed up with much warning of Alex’s... Alexness.

“How come you never let me meet Alex before?” I asked my mom.

She sighed and pushed her long, chocolate brown hair out of her face as we walked to Isobel’s house down the street. Seeing my mom do this, I tried to imitate her, repeating the motion with my stubby little fingers and short, choppy hair.

“Because,” my mom began. “We’ve never had the chance to before now.”

“Oh.” I kept walking, pacing my stride a bit faster to keep up with my mother’s long legs.

We finally reached the house--though it was only a few houses away from my own, it seemed like a long walk then. I looked up at the big white house with the grass that was greener than my house’s and the windows that were cleaner than my windows. It had an all around cheery aura to it that the other houses didn’t. Back then I thought it was because of the colorful balloons tied to the mailbox out front, but now I think it might’ve been due to the family that lived in it. All except for Alex, of course.

I watched my mom knock on the front door. In a matter of second the heavy wooden door was yanked open and the familiar, tall, dark haired lady was standing there with a warm smile on her face. Isobel Gaskarth. One of the sweetest women you could ever meet. She had that same aura about her that her house did. When she smiled, the room brightened.

“Hello, Nancy,” she said with a smile. “And Kristin! It’s lovely to see you again. It’s been a while since I got to spend some proper time with you.”

I grinned. I’ve always loved the way Isobel always speaks to everyone as equals. When I was young she didn’t use an overly high-pitched voice or drawn out syllables when talking to me, and it made me feel more mature.

“Hi, Isobel,” I said. I couldn’t quite get ‘Gaskarth’ to roll off my tongue yet, so I called her by her first name.

“Well, do come in, ladies. Kristin, have you met Alex yet?” Isobel asked as she led my mom and I into her house and down a hallway.

“No,” I replied.

My mom said, “Oh, Isobel, let’s introduce them!”

“Yes, why don’t we?” She agreed as we reached a large living room. On one side of the room there was a large leather sofa, opposite a large television. On the back wall there was a large sliding glass door that led out to the back yard, which was also large. I figured the Gaskarths must have a lot of money, for everything in their house was large.

In the back yard I could see twenty-something kids running around shooting at each other with water guns. I took note that there were only one or two girls, and that they all looked older than me. That, mixed with the several parents standing around, made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Come on, Kristin, we’re gonna go meet Alex,” my mom told me.

I drew in a deep breath before following Isobel and my mother out into the backyard. Isobel walked over to a skinny boy with unevenly cut brown hair and ridiculously bushy eyebrows. She leaned over and said something to him, and he nodded then looked over at me. Then they were walking back towards my mom and I, and I was nervous again.

“Alex, this is Kristin. Kristin, this is Alex,” Isobel said with a wide smile.

Alex looked at me, his caramel eyes skeptical. “She’s like, four,” he said to his mom, and my stomach dropped.

“Alex, don’t be rude. Kristin is six years old, and she’s probably smarter than you,” Isobel scolded. I giggled at the last part.

Alex gave me a dirty look, his brown eyes cruel. “Stop laughing or I’ll shoot you,” he said to me, pointing to the small water gun in his hand.

And from that moment on, I hated Alex Gaskarth.

Let’s skip ahead a few years. Grade seven. All through primary school, Alex had been in every single one of my God damned classes. And he picked on me in every single one of my God damned classes. And I asked my mom to switch me out of every single one of my God damned classes. My first year of secondary school was the first year where he wasn’t in any of my classes, and the second I realized that I breathed the heaviest sigh of relief in existence.

On the first day of grade seven, I walked into school with my head held high. I knew Alex wasn’t in my classes and I planned on avoiding him at all costs. I was wearing a new outfit--black skinnies, my favourite purple blouse, and white Converse--and my mom had finally bought me a bit of makeup. My long brown hair was curled loosely. I was confident for once in my twelve-year-old life so far, and I wasn’t going to let Alex spoil my first day.

I walked up to my two best friends, Michelle and Natalie.

“Hey guys,” I greeted them, grinning.

They both looked at me and Natalie did a double take.

“My God, Kristin, you look awesome!” Michelle exclaimed, and broke into a huge smile.

“Aw, thanks,” I laughed. “You both look gorgeous as always.”

“We know,” Natalie replied, then stuck her tongue out at me. Natalie was always the sarcastic one, and she was known in school as the obnoxious redhead. She was so loud in class, it was difficult to even learn if you were in her class. Meanwhile, Michelle was quieter and more reserved. I was somewhere in between them, I suppose, which I guess is why we all got along well--we all complimented each others’ personalities perfectly.

“What are your guys’s schedules?” Michelle asked. I reached into my tan suede shoulder bag that I’d gotten from a Native American reserve that my parents dragged me to a year ago. I shuffled through the few things that I’d put in it that morning; a binder, empty except for binder paper and dividers, a blank notebook, my cell phone, iPod, and lipgloss. You know how the first day of school goes--your teachers give you an introduction and only give you like one paper, and then you realize you probably could’ve gotten away with not bringing a backpack.

I pulled my schedule out and held it out for Michelle and Natalie to study to see if we had any classes together.

“Kristin, we have English together, and you have Pre-Algebra with Natalie. And Natalie, we have Phys. Ed. together,” Michelle concluded of our schedules.

Just then, the bell rang, and I’d suddenly become wildly nervous. This was my first day of secondary school, and I was about to start my first class of secondary school. Once the three of us had bid each other goodbye and good luck, I turned and froze.

It was then that I finally realized how small and young I was compared to everyone else. I looked around and saw boys--no, men--with facial hair. Girls looked like women, and the students all pushed through the crowds with their strong, developed features, confidence spilling over the brim. I felt as if I were shrinking into a corner, then down to the size of a fifth grader, a toddler, an infant. I was an infant compared to everyone else here, being forced to learn things that and infant should never have to learn.

On my way to class I passed by a couple making out by the lockers. For a second I stopped and studied them, the way their lips moved together in synchrony, and the way that two people managed to look like one. I wondered to myself if I’d ever know what that was like; melting into another person and trusting the like that. I wanted to know if I ever would, and if so, when?

My first class was science. I sighed to myself at the thought of having to dissect things on a full stomach at eight in the morning, grimacing at possible outcomes.

My teacher, a younger guy, probably in his early thirties, was named Mr. Quinn. I was almost positive I would like him, so that made the class a bit easier to deal with every morning. My lab partner was a cute popular boy with dark hair and green eyes who told me he thought I was cute. That made me love science class.

Well, long story short, I liked my classes enough to survive the year. Especially since Alex wasn’t in any of them. I wasn’t extremely fond of the two grade eleven cheerleaders who were in my Spanish class, though, but I figured I could get over it.

I was happy the whole day up until lunch, when I saw Alex for the first time in three months. (I made a mental note to myself on how our moms were best friends and we lived down the street from the Gaskarths, but I actually didn’t see Alex once over the summer).

I was walking out of English with Michelle and we had just entered the cafeteria.

“Look look look,” Michelle said quickly, pointing subtly at a group of boys sitting at one table.

I squinted to get a better look at the boys. They all looked a couple of years older than us except for two. There were four guy that looked to be in grade nine or ten, and two our age. One of them was the boy I sat next to in science. What was his name again? Ah, Josh, that was it.

The other one was skinny and almost awkward looking, but his confidence cancelled out the awkward lankiness of the body he hadn’t yet grown into. His light brown hair was shaggy and in his face, almost covering his eyes. His carmel coloured eyes that looked so familiar to me.

This is what Alex Gaskarth had grown into in the past three months.

I was surprised that I didn’t recognize him at first, but then again, it’d been a while since I’d last seen him. I sighed.

“What about them?” I asked Michelle.

“They’re cute,” she replied, staring at one of the older boys dreamily.

“Eh,” I replied. “Anyone that hangs out with Gaskarth has got some serious issues.”

Michelle laughed. “I suppose.”