Ten | newtmas

twenty eight

I met Alby in my first year of middle school.

    I was eleven then, and more or less, I was a normal kid. Maybe a bit quiet, but normal. I'd joke with people in this dry sense of humor I used to—and still maybe do—have and I'd laugh until my stomach hurt. I'd run around the field at school and I wouldn't mind when the other kids bumped into me. So by all means, aside from a little anxiety, I was normal.

    Alby was in every one of my classes that year. It took us a few days to start talking, due to first week of school nerves. But when our seats were permanently switched next to each other's in first period, we had no choice but to strike up a friendship.

    He was kind, he shared my odd sense of humor, and he loved reading and writing. Basically, everything I could have asked for in a friend. It all escalated from there, I met a few of his friends at lunch—Jack, Jorge and Clint—and they immediately accepted me into their little clique.

    We began hanging out outside of school soon after, switching off between all of our houses and different places around town. We'd play football—well we'd try to sometimes—or video games and just hung about annoying the parents of whoevers house we were in. It was a great time.

    When I was in my last year of middle school and thirteen years old, the group of us came to my house. My house wasn't used for our hangouts that often because my father despised the noise, but if we mostly stuck to my front yard, he didn't complain a lot. I think he was also just glad I had friends.

    Everyone else stayed in my front yard while I walked inside to greet my parents like I normally did after coming home from school, and I froze in the doorway. The two of them were standing on opposite sides of the living room, tears streaming down my mother's face as my father yelled. I felt that familiar tug in my chest and crack in my heart, and they didn't notice me standing there until I remembered to close the door.

    "What's this about, then?" I'd asked them, walking over and standing in the exact middle of my parents against the wall. That was important—don't look like you've chosen a side.

    They explained the argument to me angrily and it took several minutes to calm them down to get a clear story. But once I'd pieced it together, I sat them down and told them what both of their issues were. We all yelled. We all cried. But eventually, I got things to be alright.

    That's when I remembered my friends outside.

    I launched up from the couch and frantically ran out, apologies already flooding from my mouth. But they were busy. Busy talking to Teresa.

    She was standing on my lawn in a blue dress that made her eyes noticeably brighter, smiling her dazzling smile as she spoke to my friends. Particularly, she was talking mostly to Alby, who was trying embarrassingly hard to be funny. No matter how bad his attempt was, she laughed anyway. Of course she would.

    Something in me burned at the sight. I don't know what it was, anger maybe? It makes no sense to be angry, but whatever it was, it was strong. Strong enough to carry me down the stairs and right in front of Alby.

    "What're you doing here?" I'd asked her, forcing it to come out in a friendlier tone than originally intended. I added a smile to soften the blow.

    "My mom said your mom told me to stop by to get the math homework I missed today from you. I was out sick," she'd said.

    "You don't look ill," I'd said with a frown.

    "No, you don't. Not at all," Alby had said. I had to fight every instinct I had not to roll my eyes.

    Teresa blushed. "Thanks," she'd said, then turned to me expectantly. I nodded my head towards my door, and she ran up to it without any further conversation, letting herself in.