Alone.

05

I was standing under the spray of cold water, dreading the moment when I would have to go to school. It was the first day back after summer break, and I was not looking forward to it the slightest bit. Today would be hell. That whole year would be hell.

Again, I knew nobody in my classes this year, no friends. But then again, Dylan was my only friend. I walk down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into my pockets, trying to keep them warm. It was cold, rainy day. It was dreary, depressing, and dark. Nobody wanted to be at school. It was just one of those days. The rest of the day went impossibly slow but I enjoyed every minute. Every minute I didn't get made fun at. Whether it was my ugly clothes or my face. As soon as the bell rang, signalling the first day of school was over, I walked slowly home. I was in no hurry.

I sigh, taking a seat on the dirty old wooden bench inside the small Plexiglas bus shelter. The street was quiet, a newspaper plastered against a telephone pole and weeds growing up through cracks in the sidewalk. Red and black graffiti covered the plywood-covered windows, bleeding into the grain unreadable. I could see it. Although I didn’t want to. A little girl with blonde hair and bright brown eyes, terrified, keeping to the shadows and hiding in piles of trash so the men hunting her wouldn’t find her.

I wished that was a dream. But it happened. It was real.

Then I remembered a picture. The little girl with brown hair in the picture made her think of a little monkey, clinging to her mom with long skinny arms, her wrists circled by several filthy friendship bracelets, her narrow shoulders lost in the beloved brown fisherman’s sweater. The little girl‘s smile was big and exuberant, but most of all real. I saw what I thought was the sister of the little girl. Obviously older, taller and standing awkwardly beside them.

Now I moved my gaze to the father, even as I willed myself not to. If the girl’s face in the picture was all embarrassing openness, her father’s was pure mystery. No matter how many times I searched it, no matter how clearly I saw those features, I felt I couldn’t tell what the father really looked like. I needed something from that face that it never gave. The same miserable questions started their spiralling march through my brain: Why is she holding Mommy and not Daddy? Did they love her anyway? Did her Mommy and Daddy ever know how much she loved them?

I hated my real mother. But I never knew my father, and I wished I did. Every time I see a mother, I resent them. And sometimes, I envy the child. Why couldn’t I have a relationship like that? I wanted to know the little girl in the picture. I also wanted to know why she was holding onto her mother and not her father. Was her mother as bad as mine? Was her father as-

Dylan waves awkwardly as he approaches me, just as my thoughts evaporated.

"Hey Mattie." Ever since the first day of school last year, he’s called me that. Was it an inside joke? Nickname? I really didn’t know, but prayed it was a nickname. I never really liked the named he called me, but if it is a nickname, then a nickname is a nickname. You cant really choose them.

"Hey Dill." I say smiling. If he was to give me a 'nickname.' than so was I. Plus 'Dill' was cute, short, and it suited him. He also smiles as if agreeing with me. Ha, he likes it!

"Want to go to my place today?" he asks suddenly. That was a surprise. We’ve been friends for while, and never has he asked me such a thing. Maybe he was just being friendly, trying to be a great friend. Or he wants something completely different. Sex? I guess I’ll see soon enough.

"Sure," I say "I’d love to!" He beams at that. I have to say, that was the biggest smile I ever saw. Did I cause that? Did I make someone happy? How could I have, if I couldn’t even make myself happy?

"Dill," I start to say. He tilts his head a bit more trying to listen closer.

"We’re not going to be doing anything are we?" I manage to say. He looks confused at first but then he finally got what I was trying to say.

"Oh God no! I’d never jeopardize our friendship Mattie! Please understand that." I do now. I felt relieved hearing that. He came over and gave me a hug. It was an awkward hug because I was still sitting and he was standing. But I liked it. For the first time since…what happened those many years ago, I felt happy. We get to his house soon after that. My face was in awe the whole way there. Mostly because of him, and also because of the many large estates that lined his neighbourhood.

“Want a snack?” Dylan asks me as I lean against the brown wall.

“Yeah, sure.”

Truth is I was starving. I hardly ever got to eat anymore. Any chance I could get my hands on food, I took it. He walks over to cupboards and pulls out a bag of potato chips, then to the fridge and opens it, pulling out two cans of orange soda.

He chuckles, looking at me with a devilish smirk, before shaking one around a couple times and through it in the air to me. My heart was beating hard against my chest, my nerves going crazy. My stomach started turning, making me sick. But I couldn’t figure out why my body was acting like this.

The rest of Dylan’s house was exactly like his kitchen. Clean, bright, welcoming. Unlike my dirty, dull, dark, hellhole that I had to call home.

The bathroom was Dylan’s personal bathroom. It leaded straight from his bedroom. His bedroom was completely opposite from the rest of his house though, and exactly like any other teenager’s room: Messy. It was weird, compared to the rest of his house. The black carpet was hardly visible because of all the clothing and papers on his floor. His bed was unmade and filled with the contents of his backpack. His dresser had knocked-over soda bottles scattered across, as well as half-opened drawers with clothing sticking out.

I chuckle as I sit on the floor, leaning against the bed as Dylan sits across from me, leaning against the wall. He opens the bag of chips and hands it to me. I take a couple and shove them in my mouth, loving the feeling of food in my mouth.

"Somebody’s hungry," he chuckles, taking a couple himself.

"Sorry," I grunt, my mouth full of chips. He smiles, opening his can of pop and taking a sip.

"You know," he begins. "We could have eaten in the kitchen or something. The floor isn’t very appetizing," he says.

"I'm too lazy to get up now," I mumble through my full mouth. He laughs, handing the bag of chips back to me. I swallow the chips in my mouth before speaking.

"Dylan, why did you ask to hang out with me today?" He looks at me intently.

"Because I like you Mattie. And I feel we haven’t been spending a lot of time together. We’re friends, and I don’t toss those in the trash, or leave them behind. I want to be closer to you." He pauses.

"You’re a great girl. I hope you know that." He finally says, analyzing to make sure he said it right. Nothing awkward yet. To him anyways. I didn’t think it was awkward but I felt it. I never heard these words before. And I hoped it wouldn’t be the last. I blush as I always do when I’m complimented. I hate when I do because I turn red as a tomato. Not good. Because Dylan notices.

But he doesn’t laugh like I would expect someone to, instead he smiles and kisses my cheek. Little does he know that makes it worse. I turn my head so he doesn’t see. That’s when I realize Dylan isn’t everybody. He’s so sweet and kind. He’s a somebody. Not like myself. He’s not like those people who laugh and tease me all the time at school.

The kids at school don’t make fun of me because of my secret. No one knows that but myself. They laugh at me because of what I am. A freak. The quiet girl who keeps to herself. The girl who is too nosy for her own good. Too much of a freak.

I don’t know if that’s because of my secret. It probably is. I wasn’t like this before.

"Helloooo?" Dylan says. He notices I’m back from my own world and starts laughing.

"Thought I lost you there! Did you go into shock or something? It was just a kiss Matt." He says smiling. I blush even more. Great.

"No! I was just-"

"Sure" He winks. I put my hands on my burning cheeks to keep them from getting redder. Like that’ll help. I huff a breath of relief. I give him a playful shove.

"Its all your fault!" I exaggerate.

"What I do?" He asks innocently.

"You- I. You know, this is the first time I ever blushed like this." He looks at me. No scratch that. He stares. It makes me uneasy when people stare, especially Dylan. The whole year I’ve known him, he never would just stare at me.

He would look, he would glance, but not this. It made me uncomfortable. It made me want to crawl out of my own skin. I kept shifting, wiggling to make him stop, but he didn’t. So I tried something else. I stared back at him. I tried to see if I could make him uneasy, uncomfortable, like I was. Make him want to move.

Again, the same result. It was like he was a statue. That’s it. I did what would have been unexpected to the average person who knew me, acknowledged my presence as far as knowing goes. And I smiled. I never smiled unless I was made to. I did this on my own. I smiled at him. He smiled back. I felt relieved. I crawled over to him and gave him a big hug. Me on my knees and him still sitting. At least it wasn’t as awkward when we were at the bus stop. I enjoyed hugging him. I really did. I didn’t want it to end, but of course it had to. We hear a door opening and footsteps on the floor below us.

"My sister’s home." Dylan says.

"I should probably go check on her, make my presence known." He lets go and walks out his bedroom. I watch him going down the stairs. Once out of sight, I sigh. I sit there quietly, waiting. I hear voices, talking as Dylan and his sister converse. His sister giggles, probably from something Dylan said, no doubt. I smile to myself. I think…I have a best friend.