Alex's Nirvana

Nirvana

10
It was a December morning when I first noticed him noticing me, I stared over at him from my bedroom window and he stared back at me and made this weird expression, he was most likely mocking me. I raised my eyebrows at him then shut my curtains and ignored him although I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
That same night, I opened my window and watched him, highly intrigued, as he played video games in his room with a friend. They both looked captivated by the game, as if the game had put a spell on them or hypnotized them. They also ate chips and continued playing intensely despite their greasy hands.
I called my cousin over and asked him to teach me how to become a gamer. I don’t even know why I did that, I didn’t even know this weird guy that probably watched me as I got dressed, yet I was willing to dedicate a lot of my free time to learning how to master something that is completely useless and won’t benefit me in any way in hopes that he will one day ask me to come over and play with him.
I continued watching him daily, I pretty much had him all figured out. Every single night, before he went to bed, he would do sit ups and pushups which was then followed by the removal of his shirt, it was an inability of his to sleep with a shirt on, he tried to once but failed miserably. I observed him the way someone observes a hospital patient with an unknown disease. I stared at him fascinated every single day, and he would watch me sometimes too. He can say whatever he wants, but I caught him staring at me countless times as I studied or danced around in my room, a habit I have stopped after realizing that my curtains happen to be see-through.
I used to pass him every day on my way to school, too. He would always walk to school with his hands in his pockets and earphones in his ears. We would always walk on different sides of the road and compete silently, we would both race to school and he would always grin mischievously at me when he arrived first every single day. I would always scowl at him then we would go our separate ways without a word.
It was amazing how much I knew about him without even talking to him, that sounds really creepy but it’s not, I couldn’t help but notice all of his habits and interests, I literally had a clear window into his life.
I started asking around about him, turns out his name was Alex Harrison, he also had a weird middle name but no one knew it. I almost laughed at that because I’m the opposite; I have a weird first name and a normal middle name. Nirvana Valerie Harte, I don’t even know what sort of pun my parents were trying to make but whatever it is, it is so not worth the laughs  and ridiculous comments I get when I tell people my name, they almost never believe me.
My dad had named me nirvana because he was into peace and Buddhism and eternal bliss at the time, while my mom agreed to it because she was hopped up on morphine and because she was a huge metal head ‘back in the day’.
All I had gathered from my fellow classmates was that Alex was scary smart, like almost pure brilliant. But he was incredibly lazy and refused to study, claiming that grades don’t measure intelligence which is true, I respected him for that but also felt disappointed because his intelligence was being wasted on proving a point.
I remember burrowing this book from one of my only friends, it was an old book that was all ripped up at the edges and had multiple stains filling up random pages, some words were even unclear due to all the stains and rips along the pages.  There were also a lot of bookmarks, notes in corners, and highlighted paragraphs. I tried to decode whatever message my friend was trying to convey through all of the notes and stuff but I got nothing.
I finished reading the book in a few days and I didn’t finish fast because I liked it, I hated it. I hated that book so much, none of it made any sense and none of the characters were charming in any way, it just pissed me off immensely, but I still managed to reach the last page and finish it.
I went over to my friend to give it back to her but she shook her head, her hair swishing from side to side, and said “that book belongs to Alex Harrison, it’s been passed around by so many people and unless you can find someone else to read it and pass the curse of the world’s most horrible book to then you give it to him yourself.” I asked  her for further details on the ‘curse’ and she explained that Alex first got that book in the eighth grade and he gave it to  his friend who gave it to a friend who gave it to yet another friend, and the chain just went on and on and on for the past three years. Everyone hated that book but everyone read it which explained why it was so damaged beyond repair, but it apparently  brought ‘good luck’ which is why everyone read it until it fell into my possession.
I, being a total and complete loner aside from my only friend, was the unfortunate final student that ended the ongoing chain of the world’s most horrible book ever made, I had to suck it up, walk over to Alex, and give him his shitty book back as well as a feedback on it.
I had kept the book around with me for weeks in my bag before handing it to him; I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself so I could hand it to him. I know this sounds ridiculous, but a part of me believed that if I broke the chain then some terrible dark cloud will forever haunt me.
One day though, I was walking home from school as usual and he ran up to me and asked me a question.
“How was it?” he asked with this huge smile plastered on his perfect face, it was so weird seeing him up close and not through a window or in a crowded hallway.
“How was what?” I said bitterly, I also knew that he was referring to the book but hostility at first glance is sort of my thing.
“Hey, and the book, how was it? I was told that you have it and you’re going to return it to me, so, what did you think?” his smile only grew wider and wider as we walked at t he same pace. I closed my eyes and thought of so many comments about the most pitiful excuse of a book but I couldn’t think of anything good enough. For once, a guy had made me nervous.
“Where did you hear all that?” I was generally shocked, in my old school no one knew anything about anyone, and we certainly didn’t have a secret book that had been passed around for years.
“Word travels fast around here, especially when you’re the owner of the book. So, what did you think?” I closed my eyes to think, what if this was his favorite book and I was about to insult it? I must’ve been thinking for a while because he snapped his finger and said “tick-tock” which made me jump.
“Well, I mean I guess I-” he shook his head and started laughing hysterically.  “You hated it didn’t you? Just say it, you hated it.” I started laughing and nodded my head, we both laughed and I stopped walking to reach into my bag and give him his book back. He held the book in his huge hands and smiled down at it.
“A million scars worth a million memories.” He said, quoting the book, it was a terrible book but it did have some really nice quotes.
“The memories that these pages harbor are about as infinite as the stars in the sky.” I quoted back and he smiled at me, I now remember the name of that horrible book, it was called “A Thousand Memories and a Scar”.
“So, do you want to have some coffee or a milkshake or whatever it is that you drink, and discuss the horrid details of this book?” he asked as we were approaching our homes.
“Nothing would bring me more pleasure than trashing this monstrosity, but I have this play thing with my parents, we’re all theatre nerds.” I blushed deeply, I hated admitting things such as ‘I spend  my time watching plays and theatres and operas because my father loves it and my mom forcibly goes along  with it because she loves him’  but there was something about Alex that made me want to tell him everything.
“Alright, give me your number and I will text you and we can work on co-creating and starting a ‘terrible works of literature that should be burned’ book club.” In case you were wondering, yes we did actually start a book club where we would read books with the worst reviews ever and we would laugh over the details at our secluded corner at starbucks.
“I didn’t memorize my number and my phone is dead at the moment.” I frowned, I also lifted up my phone to show him, I really didn’t want him  to think I wasn’t interested because I sure as hell was more than  just interested.
“No problem,” he stopped walking, put his bag on the floor, and rummaged through it for a pen. Once he found what he was looking for, Alex casually ripped a page out of the book that started our friendship, and wrote his number on it. He handed the paper to me and smiled broadly, “now you have my number and a piece of the world’s most terrible book.” He said, we both laughed and then headed in opposite directions to our separate homes.