Paper Cranes

"Earth to Melody."

"Huh?"

She shook her head, amused. "You're zoning out again."

"Sorry." I look up from the paper sheepishly. "What was that?"

"I was just asking you if you'd want to come with Devante and me to see that new movie."

Its my turn to shake my head, eyes darting back to my hands as they roam over the edges of the paper, folding it slowly.

"Why not?" Arianna frowns slightly. "I don't see what could possibly be more intriguing. We both know you've got nothing to do, and nowhere to be tonight."

I wiggle a finger at her. "Don't start with me, woman. I happen to like doing nothing, and don't think for a second that I'd rather play the awkward third wheel, while you and Devante suck face the entire time. Been there, done that, but never again."

Her mouth dropped, "That is not all we ever-"

I cut her off, laughing. "Seriously? Can you tell me the last thing you two actually had a conversation about?"

She stuttered, "I - we - it...."

"Exactly."

She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Very mature."

"Who said you'd be the awkward third wheel again anyways?"

"It's called reading between the lines."

"Well missy, maybe you should stop making snap assumptions, and listen for a second. Devante has this friend -"

I sighed and she sent a small glare my way.

Don't get me wrong, I loved Arianna dearly. She's a tall girl with killer legs and a gorgeous smile. Her eyes are a honeyed brown and her hair is the most beautiful shade of it as well, cascading down her back in straight, silken strands. Her mother was a model once upon a time, and is expected she was thrust into the same career role. She's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met, and she knows it.

Her ego wasn't necessarily huge, but Arianna knew she was wanted.

She was confident. Enchanting.

She also lived under the delusion that everyone else thought about themselves the way she did. That everyone was confident in their own skin.

And while that's the way it should be, it wasn't for me.

I've never felt particularly happy with the way I look. Essentially I'm a girl of average height and, I know this much is true, could stand to lose a couple pounds. I was told as much multiple times growing up. I wasn't skinny, but I wasn't totally overweight. I weighed less than I used to as a child, a bit of my body fat burning off as I got older. Just not quite enough.

Now, I was in that awkward in-between weight, where my body wasn't totally in porportion with itself. The kind where you go to the store and can never get anything to fit quite right. It didn't bother me too much anymore, not the way it had when I was younger. I guess that just comes with growing and realizing you can't let others' opinions determine your worth. Not to say there aren't days where I'd rather crawl back into bed than face myself in the mirror.

But that's another story for another day.

My eyes are a dull brown, as is my lackluster hair. I grew it long in attempts to try and weigh down the messy curls that plagued my hair most days, and hopefully somehow make my hair more manageable. And while it worked to an extent I could never figure out how to manage it right.

Arianna was always a cheerful, and charismatic to boot. She's always been fantastic with other people, most of whom were enchanted with her moments after she spoke.

I'd always wished I could be as good at that as she was. Most of my first encounters with people were awkward and strained on my part. I wasn't sure how to act around them.

For a long time I wore my heart on my sleeve and cared too much, far too fast about people. Sometimes I think that's what scared them away, how willing I was to open up and listen to them like we'd been friends forever.

But in my experience it seemed like that was exactly what people needed. Someone to listen to them, and care unconditionally.

At least that's what I would have wanted.

I made some of my best friends because I was so open, most of them lasting all the way from my childhood and much into where I am now. But other people took advantage of me. They would treat me like what we had meant something to them, be it friendship or something I thought was more. They would only use when the need arise, and leave me in the dust when I didn't serve a purpose.

And I was an idiot, because it didn't seem to matter how many times I was mistreated. I would come back at the call of my name and the process would repeat. I would sit there for hours and help them however I could, only wanting to make them happy. I would give everything had into our friendship, only to have them kick me to the curb time and time again.

All I wanted was someone who cared for me as much as I did them. Was that really too much to ask?

I guess it was.

"C'mon, Mel." Arianna called me back to her, "Just one blind date. I'll never ask you for anything ever again!"

I rolled my eyes. "Nope. You're not setting me up with some guy. You know these things always end in disaster."

"You're overreacting. They don't always end -"

"What about the last one, huh?"

This immediately shut her up. "He was okay! He said that those pants didn't matter!"

"My dog peed on his leg." I ran my hands down my face. "I turned around for two seconds and that happened. It was mortifying."

She didn't look convinced.

"And in case you forgot, all the others you set me up with never called me back. People don't ever like me the way I like them. Just face it 'Anna, I'm not meant for dating."

"You're being dramatic. You've had boyfriends before."

A laugh bubbled up my throat, fingers finishing up another crane. "Yeah, one. And he ended up with you."

Her face softened. "You'll never know how sorry I am about that."

I waved her off. I was over that. I'd been dating Devante for a little over five months when I found them out. I wasn't exactly surprised either, what with the looks I found them exchanging every now and then.

While it stung at the time, I was by no means bitter about the whole thing, I was happy that Arianna worked with him in ways I never had.

The only thing that kept nagging at the back of my mind was the fact that even if I were to get another boyfriend, what would stop him from running off when another girl came along? What would stop him from leaving me?

Everyone left me eventually.

I suppose that is except for Arianna.

"I think I'll pass on the date."

She frowned a bit, but didn't push it.

"I'll make it up to you, though."

She was all ears. "You'll let me set you up a different night?"

I laughed, "No, even better. I'll make you chocolate cheesecake."

She grinned, "I always knew there was a reason we were best friends."


While Arianna was off with Devante I had the apartment to myself.

Rather than go out with them I had opted for finishing up my cranes in a last ditch attempt to prove to myself that fairytales and magic absolutely didn't exist.

11:11 never did a thing for me, and shooting stars were dead years before we caught a glimpse of their intense light burning a trail through the night sky. So tell me, exactly where was the proof?

I was finishing the last few cranes. I'd tied them together into groups of a hundred, and groups of tens within those. After doing a quick count, the realization hit me that I only had two left to make.

My fingers traced their way along the familiar folds and within minutes I was nearly done with the very last one.

I took a moment to cherish my handiwork. You'd never be able to tell there were a thousand cranes here if I didn't tell you myself. I'd made some tiny, and others were quite large, all different patterns and colors. After some debate months ago, I figured the only thing that made sense was to hang them from the roof above my bed. With Arianna's help I had arranged them into something resembling a flower.

Glancing to the window where the wind trickled in slowly, I took in a breath.

Here goes nothing.

My fingertips found the length of the neck, folding down the head of the crane.

I exhaled slowly, the whisper tumbling out of my lips without a second thought.

"I want to know if I'll ever be loved. I want to know what it's like. Even if it's short lived. Even if it hurts. Even if it isn't perfect."

The candle light flickered, shadows dancing against the walls.

"I want to feel alive."