pink in the night ✓

03 | line of symmetry

dec 18 2008

At age 14, Tanner and I were basically attached at the hip. Wherever he was, I was following closely behind cheering him on from the stands. Wherever I was, he was at the forefront guiding me through a dark tunnel. At first, I was skeptical when he asked me to join him for lunch. I wasn't sure what his intentions were, so I was quite closed off--only answering his questions with a nod or a simple one word answer. I didn't know why someone as well-respected and athletic as him would bother talking to plain-old me. Besides, it wasn't like we had much in common. But once he gave me his only bag of Hot Cheetos, I gradually started warming up to him. Bribing me with food seemed to have worked wonders because we'd spend our spare period together in the courtyard, smack dab under the sun, trading Pokemon cards and playing checkers.

The greatest byproduct of our friendship, however, was that the bullying stopped. People liked Tanner enough, so as a result, they didn't mess with me either. I knew it, and he knew it too.

I try not to think about that, though. Especially since I was seated next to him, munching on some leftover vegetarian egg rolls my mother made yesterday. In front of me, Tanner inspected my High School Musical lunch box, dumping the contents onto the azure barbed table.

"Your mom cooks really good," he mused, poking around his wrapper full of gummies. "You're so lucky."

"I mean, she's alright, I guess," I agreed, shrugging, "not really a fan of the soup she makes me, even though she always forces me to drink it so I'm healthier."

"To be fair, we all have our own opinions about stuff, it's no big deal," he replied, claiming the remaining 3 eggrolls in the tupperware for himself.

"Hey, I'm not done with those!" I exclaimed, reaching to snatch the container from him, but he held it tightly.

"You already ate so many," he retorted, taking a bite out of the fried good.

I had to gnaw on the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from telling him off. This is how things were sometimes--I'd express something that made me uncomfortable and he'd deflect. I never pushed him because I was afraid he'd end our friendship and I'd be alone again, left to fend off the bullies myself.

So instead, I fiddled my thumbs and huffed out a semi-strangled breath. Though we were underneath the shade of a thin sycamore tree, San Francisco was unusually hot that day (yes, even though it was nearly winter), and the humidity washed over me like a second skin. I was almost certain that I was sunburnt on my neck.

Using my textbook as a fan, I desperately tried to cool myself down. A group of people I recognize as Jane's friends were laid around the flagpole picnic-style with trays of food settled on the steps of cement.

"Are you coming to our Christmas party this year?" I asked him. "My mom told me to invite you."

"I totally would, but me and my parents are going back to Thailand to visit some relatives, sorry."

"Parties aren't bearable without you," I whispered, fully giving up on my attempt to curb the sweltering heat. "I'm just gonna stay in my room, then."

At this, he pinched the bridge of his bumpy nose, sighing. "C'mon, Charm. You gotta get over this phobia of people you have. You sound like such a baby."

In retrospect, it was during moments like these that I realized if fate hadn't delicately wrapped Tanner and I in a thread of gold, we probably wouldn't have become friends. Perhaps somewhere in an alternate universe there would be a version of him that understood me--one where every Pokemon card he gave me held a bit of me that he had cherished and memorized.