Short story 10/7/17

Me and my friend Maliah used to go out every weekend.  When I was in grammar school I went out with neighborhood friends often, but when I started high school and met new people, it became a custom that I do stuff with them, as opposed to my old friends (I sometimes still hung out with them, though).  My old friends and I were content doing stupid stuff, like playing Tetris and hanging out in our bedrooms, but when I started going out with high school people, we wanted to do stuff like go to the movies and go bowling. 

Maliah and I went to the mall last weekend.  We went to the one by my house, the HIP (Harlem Irving Plaza)- her mom drove us there and was going to pick us up.  Maliah is 100% Norwegian.  She has blonde hair and brown eyes.  The other day when my mom drove us somewhere, she was sporting new shoes- pink Saucony shoes.  “Wow, those are cute,” my mom said to her after she got in the backseat of the car.  Maliah took the compliment and we were on our way to somewhere fun (somewhere/something that was fun to fourteen-year-olds).  Usually whenever my mom complimented my friends, I either cringed with embarrassment or tried to just go with the flow. 

Maliah and I hit up Auntie Anne’s first that night.  The mall was a bit crowded, it being a Saturday night.  Unfamiliar faces blended with the crowd.  The HIP is one of the crappiest malls in Chicago- at least now it is.  When I was younger I used to think it was the best- but after going to Old Orchard with my new friends- one or more times before this Saturday night- it seemed like a hole in the wall.  Maliah got a plain pretzel, while I got a cinnamon sugar one.  I pulled out my new wallet- I was very proud of it- a Quicksilver one- that was white, blue and green- it looked like it belonged to a surfer, or someone who lived in California.  I liked it, but a girl I had lunch with disagreed, so that at that moment I had less pride of it as compared to when I first bought it. 

I gave the person behind the counter a five-dollar bill, and she gave me $2.37 in return.  Later that night in the mall we went to a place to eat dinner.  It was dark and unfamiliar because I’d never eaten there before.  Me and Maliah sat down after we ordered or food.  Maliah went on rambling about something- I eventually lost interest until she brought me back, with the interrogation, “Don’t you like my story?”.  I didn’t have the heart to tell the truth and say -no- so I came back to earth and started to pay attention to whatever she was saying. 

When the night was over, Maliah and I waited outside in the dark for our ride.  We were all alone- waiting near our place of pickup for her mom to take us home.  At that point I had come to realize that Maliah and I wouldn’t be friends forever.  In a way I was friends with her, not because we clicked or got along well, but because I didn’t know where I belonged friend wise- what clique I belonged to.  It got to the point, with Maliah and I- that we were about to go our separate ways, sometime soon after that night.  But I didn’t know who else to be friends with- who would take my eccentricities.  I guess people at school thought that I was pretty- but was that all I had to offer?  How would I figure out who my real friends where, once it got to that point in my high school career that I knew everyone and what they were like?  I felt like I was spiraling into a black hole- from which I could never escape, yet it seemed to be the only thing that would take me- that thing in me that was accustomed to being socially ok just wasn’t intact anymore.  That night the tension between Maliah and I had gotten to the point where we knew that we just didn’t clique- and I being the loser that I am, now feel like she was just friends with me out of charity. 

Maliah and I lingered on the sidewalk/pavement while we waited for her mom.  “Promise me,” Maliah said, in as much seriousness as was possible, “That you’ll never turn out to be like them.”  We had just been talking about some girls at school who were in a popular clique.  When she said that it felt like someone had just smacked me in the face and held out a hand at the same time.  It was like she could see into the future, my future- and what I was afraid of happening. 

While I was at school, one of my favorite places to hang out was the cafeteria.  My friend Brianna and I hung out there sometimes.  One of the only times I was mad at Brianna was when she banged into me, as a nonchalant joke, into another person, one that I kind of didn’t get along with.  The girl who was victim to the banging heavily rolled her eyes in response.  In the caf you either sat down or stood up.  After I broke up with the group of girls I was friends with freshman year and partially that summer going into sophomore year, I sat with Maliah at a place in the cafeteria near the microwave (I think I remember I was with her and her friend)- the one that I almost set on fire after putting a metal pan in it, in my attempt to melt some chocolate for a speech in speech class.  I felt like I was a loser, but it was at the point, looking back, where I felt like I was even about to lose my loser-dom, once I broke up with Maliah.  Maliah had her friends, and Maliah was my friend.  But once I left the school, because I was to transfer to another one after winter break, I even broke up with Maliah.  The last time I talked to her was in a forced conversation over the telephone- and after that we broke up- without saying it.  I guess that’s what happens when you don’ know who you are, and I guess high school is the place where that most often happens.