If I Could Hold The Moon In My Hands

Chapter Four

I sat there for hours and hours. Not knowing if she if she was going to wake up or not. What if this was her way of leaving the world? What if she planned me to kill her, those pills might've not even been prescribed to her a year ago and could fake or harmful. I hope the best for Katie. We never fought, especially like this. Katie's never been this weird. Now, I think I'm losing her. It's almost everyday I remember the day we met. We were so small...
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"Ugh! I hate school, I hate everyone,  don't let me out mom please." My mom was laughing. "But lemon cake, this is only your second day of school," my mom explained. "I'm not going. No! You can't make me." Turns out, I ended up being there.

My mom got me out of the car and promised me cookies after the school day. I wasn't the most attractive, smart, or cool person at the school. I actually lacked all of that stuff. I was a "nerd".

On the first day school, some girls came up to me and said my pizza shirt was stupid. We were all kids. I'm surprised I got bullied for a kiddish shirt.

The girls pushed me to the ground, grabbed some scissors, and said, "We"ll fix it for you!"  They violently grabbed me from the ground, cut my shirt, and cut my knee. I still have the scar till today. I forgave them. I assumed that they were sad because they had the ability of doing something like this. I have a permanent blood stain on the bottom right of my pizza shirt. It's small though.

So at recess, on the second day of school, rumor got around that I was "retarded". I knew what that meant. To me it was a curse word. It should be curse word, but I guess society's use of this word is normal. I really started hating school. I then figured out I had to spend twelve years with these students.

A full month passed by. I was super lonely. I depended only on my mom, so when she came in to pick me up, I ran to her and cried in her arms. 

I had trouble communicating around second grade, so my mom got me a therapist. She smelled like candy and candles. She asked me questions with big words so I didn't really pay attention to her.

It was the end of second grade almost. I wanted a reputation, so I tried changing myself. I cut my hair shorter, dyed it blue, wore ripped jeans, and mascara. They all called me "emo smurf". On that day, I spent the day hitting my face against the metal gate, over and over.

I felt someone touch my arm. "Can I join," the girl with pink ponytails said. I told her to go trip on rock or something. She stood there with a bright smile and said, "Please! I bet I can do it louder than you!" "Fine. Only because I'm getting tired. I'll let you have your time." She hit her head on the gate. It was so loud. It was like a professional head basher. I asked her how did she do it so loudly. She said she was experienced.

I took what she said home. I never even got her name. I was one step closer to achieving a friend.

The next day of school I went back to the metal gate. She beat me there. She had cupcakes, apple juices, and a "note saying will you be my bestie".

I asked her what is a bestie.

She said, "A friend who will always be there for you, never give up on you. One of the most best friends to have," she exclaimed. She told me to consider her one.

"I'll be your bestie," I said, with a slight touch of anxiousness. "Really! That's great! My name is Katie." She opens up the cupcake box and hands me one. "You seem like a strawberry girl," She explains. I said, " Wait, your right. I love strawberry. How did you know?" She told me, "Even though you have blue hair, your personality really communicated with me. You showed anger and then showed sweetness. Your exactly like a ripe strawberry." I told her it was a creative way to think about it. I told her my name, I told her that she sounds super smart, and gave her my moms number for a sleepover.

Before I left, she grabbed me the same as we first interacted. She told me it was okay to show these emotions. We're both human and it's normal to do that. She said she was happy that I was her first friend. I hugged her and thanked her. We ran to our own parents with excitement. I started planning the sleepover.