Meet Again

The school bell rings as hundreds of students race through the halls. You can't make out any of their faces. If you looked really hard, you might, but their movement depicts the very sense of chaos. There's almost no rhyme or reason to motions, no set direction where some of them are moving. They illustrate a sea of unpredictable inertia.

"I can't believe you got us here late again," a brunette dressed in denim jeans and a green jacket steps out of a blue Corolla.

"We're only late because you overslept for the third morning this week," her friend rebukes from the driver seat. She applies chapstick and slides on a purple hairband before exiting the car.

"Don't turn this around on me, Dalla. We got here late because you drive like a dead grandma."

"Pam, I'm so not in the mood for this," Dalla grabs her bag from the backseat and walks off.

"Where are you even going? We have the first period together."

A boy dressed in brown pants and a red hoodie sees Pam and Dalla rushing toward the main entrance from across the parking lot. He slows down when he sees the design on Pam's backpack. It's too far to know for sure, but the image seems to resemble the Garuda, a mythical bird from Hindu mythology. The image rings familiar to the boy, causing him to recall a moment from his childhood. In his youth, the boy herded camels for his uncle's tour business and would often read the picture books his uncle kept in their saddles.

Most of these books taught stories from the Hebrew Gospels, but some of the books told stories about divine figures in Hindu, Greek, and Egyptian mythology. Reading these books made the boy curious about world cultures and religions besides his own. As he grew older, the boy pursued this interest. Human geography and world theology quickly became his pleasure reading. Eventually, he applied for his high school's foreign exchange program.

"Dude, are you still with us?" A voice pulls the boy out of reminiscence.

"What?"

The boy looks ahead to see his student ambassador waiting for him. He resumes walking and follows the ambassador through the main doors.

"First-day jitters?" The ambassador asks.

"Just got lost in my thoughts for a moment."

The girls enter their class just before the second bell rings. As they approach their seats, Pam notices a new student sitting behind her. He reminded her of someone. Throughout the class, she continues to look over her shoulder every few minutes, even if only to catch his reflection in the window. There was this feeling about him she just couldn't shake.

When their teacher turned to write something on the board, Pam snuck her phone out to text with Dalla, asking if she knew anything about the new student.

"He's Middle Eastern," Dalla sends, "I heard from Delores that his family just moved here from Egypt or something."

Pam thought about how she could have known him. Her family went on a trip to Egypt when she was younger, but she wasn't sure if they could have met then.

"Why the interest?" Dalla asks.

Pam struggles to find the words; instead, she looks over to Dalla and shrugs her shoulders in ignorance. They hide their phones when the teacher turns around. At the end of class, Pam attempts to speak with the new student.

"Hi," she says.

"Hey." The boy lifts his head from inside his school bag. Pam notices a slightly shocked expression on his face as he looks over to her backpack.

"Do you like it?" Pam asks.

"It's familiar," the boy stands up and zips his bag.

"You know about garudas?"

"Just Garuda," the boy corrects her, "There's only one."

"That may be the case in Hindu mythology, but in Buddhism, garudas are a divine species."

"You've done your homework." The boy is impressed.

"I had an interest when I was a kid."

"Pam, we're going to be late," Dalla calls from the door.

"Uh, sure, I'm coming."

"I'm actually new to here, so I gotta get going."

"Do you need directions?" Pam asks as the boy walks away.

"Can you point me toward the stairs?" As the boy turns around to face her, Pam notices a scar along the side of his jaw. The sight of it shocks her, and she can't help but stare.

The boy realizes the focus of her gaze, "It's the scar, right?"

"Oh, no, I am so sorry," Pam flusters, hoping she hasn't offended him.

"It's fine," he assures her, "Everybody stares."

"How am I just noticing that?" Pam asks.

"I angle to the right when I talk to people," the boy explains, "It hides the scar pretty well sometimes."

"It just reminds me of someone I once knew," Pam finally realizes who the boy was.

A lightbulb goes off in the boy's head. He remembered teaching a girl around his age about worldwide mythology while he was working as a bellboy at a hotel back in Egypt five years ago. The look on his face matches the look on Pam's: joyous recognition.

"Am I missing something?" Dalla asks from afar.

"The stairs are to the right once you enter the hallway," Pam tells the boy.

"Thanks," the boy leaves the room, "I'll see around."

"Who was that?" Dalla asks when Pam finally reaches the door.

"My family took a trip to Egypt a few years ago," Pam explains as the girls walk down the hallway, "I made friends with a boy who worked in the hotel we were staying at. Whenever my parents wanted to be alone, which was more often than they'll admit, we'd hang out; eventually, we spent every day together."

"What happened?"

"At the end of my trip, we said our goodbyes and promised to see each other again one day."

"If you guys were so close, why'd it take so long for you to realize who he was?"

"I stopped believing we'd see each other again over two years ago," Pam turns her head to see her old friend walking up the stairs, "I honestly haven't thought about him since."

They didn't see each other again until the lunch period. The boy started scanning the cafeteria for Pam as soon as he entered. He saw her already sitting with Dalla and another girl at the third table from the front. He quickly grabbed a tray and went to sit with them. The menu said "sloppy joe," but the boy had no idea what that was.

"What's sloppy joe?" the boy asks.

"Usually, it's ground beef and tomato sauce," Pam tells him.

The boy was skeptical because he had never eaten beef before. He took a spoonful of his sloppy joe, slowly chewing and tasting and swallowing the meat, sauce, and seasoning.

"Well, that's a damn good spoon of foodery right there," the boy comments.

The girls all break out laughing. Pam hadn't heard those words in three years. Her father used to say them every time they ate.

"What does that even mean?" Dalla asks.

"I picked it up from Pam's dad back in the day."

"I never caught your name," the third girl asks.

"Y'shua," Pam says.

"You remembered," Y'shua says.

"Do you have a nickname?" Dalla asks, "Because there is no way I'm going to remember that pronunciation."

"The English translation is 'Joshua.'"

"I can work with that," says the third girl.

"You could call what I did," Pam tells her friends.

"And what was that?"

"Joshie," Y'shua said.