Author’s Note: I’m taking a really short break from Defeating Friendship (just to write this story). Tell me how you think of it. I have a feeling it’ll turn out pointless… oh well. :)

About This Boy

We’ve been friends since we could talk. He was my first boy friend. You know, a friend that just happens to be a boy. When all the girls believed boys had cooties, I was with him, not paying attention to the “rumors” that spread about boys.

We didn’t need to argue about what game to play, we always just took turns. Up until now, I still find that fact odd. I mean, generally, there always has to be a fight. I guess you could say we were a different pair.

We sang at the same church choir. I decided to join after hearing the announcement one day, and he followed. But sadly, he was never really a good singer. My sister and I would always make fun of him since he never sang a note in tune.

We saw each other almost weekly. Our parents were friends as well (and that was how we met). And every time I saw him, I felt a touch of glee, like I haven’t seen him in ages, when, in fact, I saw him the previous week. Our family would eat out for dinner, and it would always be an enjoyable night. We would always find things to stir up.

We were around twelve, and he had his first fling. She was our friend as well. And I would help him out, telling him what to say to make her fall for him. Turns out she liked him too. I remember how he’d eagerly tell me about their conversations, and how she was the sweetest girl he’s ever met. He always had that goofy grin on his face. And he would thank me over and over, since I was the involuntary “bridge” of their relationship, and so I sort of brought them together.

Then came the next girl in his life, then another, and another. With all those relationships he had, I was pretty much there, waiting for him to tell me about it all. And he did. He would ask me for countless advice, and I’d give it to him. Again, he would thank me constantly for helping him get through his relationships.

What he didn’t know was that I was slowly seeing him in a different light. I was young, and so was he. And I didn’t know what I was feeling. All I knew was that it was a happy, contented feeling when I was around him. In the latter years, I concluded it was just infatuation.

We grew up. I went to an all-girls private school, and he went to another. We stayed in touch. It’s funny, though, because everyone went through awkward hormonal changes, the kind where one has the weird-feeling-around-boys phase, and I didn’t. I seemed pretty normal around them, especially him. My friends would tease me, saying I was one of those people with the clichéd stories where the friend ends up with the other friend, with something that would last forever. But I just brushed off comments like those from them.

Somehow, we saw less of each other as the months progressed. And we drifted apart. I went on with my life, he went on with his.

I would read his blog often. That’s how I would see how he was doing, what was going on with his life. I knew it wasn’t sufficient information for me, but I figured it was the only way, so I just went with it.

We both reached high school, and we managed to go on without each other. The occasions when we would talk lessened, and as it went by, the only time we would hear from each other was during our birthdays, receiving special messages that always had a “I haven’t heard from you” and a “take care” and a “we have to go out soon”. It never happened, though. We didn’t see each other, to my dismay.

So I pretty much thought he was a stranger to me. He knew me inside out, but then as we grew older, that fact seemed to decrease and become less true. I didn’t know what was happening to him anymore, and I would repeatedly say that I missed him, and that he just had to tell me about everything if ever we’d bump into each other someday.

After a while, I got used to it. I was contented with just that birthday greeting he sent me every year, and I felt like he was contented with those greetings from me. I didn’t completely eradicate myself from his life, I just left him be, and waited for him to come to me for anything- advice, help, or just for company.

One random day, he called me up. And incidentally, I picked up the phone.

I heard a low voice on the other end of the line. “Hey, Karen, how’s it going?” At first, I didn’t recognize his voice. It was so much deeper than before (and back then, I never though it could go any deeper).

When I finally realized who it was, I freaked out. “Oh, my God, Peter!”

I heard him laugh. “Hello to you too,”

“I haven’t heard from you in so long! How’ve you been?” I was supposed to attack him with more questions, but I figured he would be too freaked out with that.

“I’ve been all right. School’s been hell, but I guess I’m coping. You know me.” He replied.

I didn’t answer for a while. I was thinking of the right way to phrase the things I was about to say. “Actually, Pete, I don’t know you. At least, not anymore, I don’t.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I figured you were going to say that. You’ve always been brutally honest- just like now.”

I scoffed. Of all the things to remember about me, it had to be that. “So, how’s everything over there?”

“Well, if you’re wondering if there’s a girl, uh, then, yeah, there is,” he said. I sensed the shyness in his voice.

“Another girl, huh?” I joked, laughing a bit. “How long?”

“Around six months,” he said simply. “Kaye, she’s the sweetest-”

“-girl you’ve ever met. I know, Pete.” I finished for him. Well, I guess some things never change.

He laughed. “Okay, I guess you knew that part. Anyway, her name’s Monica: tall, blonde, long hair, cheerleader. Ring a bell?”

“Another cheerleader?” I thought for a while, trying to test my photographic memory. “Familiar, but I’m not exactly sure.”

“Well, you should meet her. I’ll stop by someday or something.”

I was surprised he invited himself over to my house, but I was happy he seemed to want to see me again. “So, tell me, what does she have-”

“Uh, Kaye, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”

“Oh.” I said dumbfounded.

“You know I hate to put down the phone on you, especially since we just started. But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I felt slightly happy. I’ll make it up to you… “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. You know it’s always great just to hear from you.” I said, trying to sound like I was satisfied with a single phone call when, in fact, I was already planning on how he could make up for it.

“Well, like it or not, we’re going out soon, got it?”

I laughed. “Fine,”

He laughed too. “I’ll call you again sometime, alright?”

“Sure. See you around, Pete.”

“See you, Kaye. Bye.”

I sighed as I put down the phone. What just happened?

Then I smiled. He called me up- my dear, old friend. And I was so happy to hear his voice again. And he was going to keep calling. We were going to have longer and more conversations, just like before. It’s so great to have him back.

…And maybe this will come back, too- the friendship that we had. But either way, he’s here now, and, hopefully, here forever.

Author’s Note: Well, it seems well written (to me, I guess). I was unsure of which category to post this under, so tell me if I was wrong in the categorizing. :) please and thank you!