Life's a Gem

8.G Alex's House

After the searing heat of adrenaline leaves my system in a flurry, my whole body calms down. 

The school day closes on itself quite quickly; I barely even felt the last few classes wither away before me. 

Eventually, after the nearly infinite amounts of compliments and smiles from kids I don't even know; the school day is officially over. 

The teacher assigns an assignment that's due next month and lets us get on with our lives. 

Sam waits for me outside of the school, as usual.

 Her face lights up as she sees me walk down those mundane steps. Sam smiles at me and simply says, "You're so pretty!"

 I'm pretty?

 I've never been called that before in my entire life. 

Should I take that as a compliment, or take it as a threat to my masculinity? 

I just smile, wave, and awkwardly laugh. 

I really hate my awkwardness sometimes. 

"Alright, so you wanna swing by my house and play with Lil' Tarzan?" 

The image of Alex's smiling face becomes plastered onto my mind to become forever cemented into my thoughts. 

"Actually," Sam stops walking, "I have to go hang out with Alex today. I sorta promised her that I would this week." 

She looks away for a bit, then looks back at me with a smile.

 "Oh, well that's great! You should totally hang out with Alex! She does need a friend every now and then. After all, what are friends for?" 

I know that she's mad about me ditching on her for another person, but she has to understand that I made a promise and that I have to keep that promise to not be a douche to Alex.

"Sam, I'll see you tomorrow, okay? It'll probably late when I get home, so I may or may not come by your house tonight." 

She continues walking to her house, only giving me a thumbs up that feels cold and distant for now. 

Waiting on the school steps, the students walk by me and completely ignore my existence all together. 

One head bobs up and down from the sea of ingrates, and that head is no other than the one I'm waiting for. 

"Max! Ah, you made it!" 

She reaches me and puts her arm around my shoulder like a true companion. 

"So," we begin walking to Alex's house, "do you wanna burn some ants with lighter fluid, watch raunchy cartoon comedies, eat cake until we puke and then eat some more, or do you wanna do some stuff?" 

The options that Alex has suggested all sound horrible and atrocious; I can only hope that she's joking about the sick act with the ants. 

"Well, I was just thinking that we could just have a casual hang out. You know, like sipping sodas," we turn the corner and continue walking down the street toward her house, "eating nachos," her house is in sight, "and maybe just watching some normal T.V." 

She looks kind of sad when I emphasize normal, almost as if that term is alien to her and she doesn't know how to respond to it.

 "Alright, I can do normal."

We reach Alex's house a few minutes later. 

The front yard is lush with flowers, neatly trimmed trees, bushes that look like giraffes and monkeys, and a small silver bird bath with crystal clear water. Her house, to match the rich taste of the front yard, is equally tasteful. The gutters are silver, the welcome mat is velvet, the windows are French designed, the paint is an artesian snow white with royal blue highlights, and an African Black Wood door to par.