Companions

Ali gets to know a little more about Bengt. Can they become friends?

    I sat quietly in my fifth period class, AP Spanish. The instructor’s name is Senora Lindsay. And yes, that is her last name. Her first name is Karen. Many people ask how she became a Spanish teacher when she clearly isn’t Spanish. Well she was born here, but she grew up in Spain. And living your whole life in a country that only speaks Spanish forces you to learn the language. I am actually surprised that she speaks fluent English as well. What an overachiever.
    In my personal opinion, she gives way too much homework, but I guess it is to be expected from an Advanced Placement class. I always did the homework anyways. It wasn’t that much when I actually thought about it.
    I watched the door the whole time. I was waiting for Bengt to come through. He never did, so I guess he only has three classes with me so far. I still have to check out my last class, which was Drama II. The only difference between AP Drama and regular is that we get more into play development and boring stuff like that.
    The rest of the day flew by and soon it was the end of school. I did not see Bengt for the remainder of the day, which I thanked God for. He knows about me now. Maybe he doesn’t fully know or maybe he has a hunch, but I’m still scared of anyone finding out.
    I hopped on my bus and sat in the back. It wasn’t a school bus so toddlers and adults were seated everywhere. There was one little boy who kept staring at me. I bared my teeth and gave a low growl at him. He quickly turned around and stayed that way for the rest of the trip. Thank goodness because I really dislike children. They are loud and obnoxious to be around. Yet they seem to love me. It is my punishment. Cruel and unusual punishment it was.
    As soon as I got home, I ran up to my room and closed the door. The first thing I noticed when I got in was Barry perched perfectly on top of my pillow. I gave him a smile and a pat on the head before falling unceremoniously onto my bed. Today was exhausting. Not only did Bengt find out about me, but I had talked to my old friends. I tried my best to steer clear of them, but I can see now that it is impossible.
    Maybe I’ll never be able to live down the guilt or crime I had committed. Perhaps all of this will follow me until the last breath I take, or possibly it will follow me for eternity. I don’t know. All I know is that I need to fix this.
    “Do you have any answers for me?” I asked the lion who fell off my pillow when I jumped onto the bed. He didn’t answer back. He never did. Thinking of Barry reminded me of the blog I had posted back in third period. Maybe somebody had answered it already.
    I grabbed my laptop and logged onto the blogging site. Sure enough, somebody had answered me. I was surprised at first. With only three hundred views on his page all together, I didn’t think anyone would answer. I quickly clicked on the response and read:

“Dear Barry,
            It seems that you must really love your owner to be asking such advice for her. We believe that she should just talk to the boy. Perhaps he can keep quiet about the whole ordeal. Maybe she can even make a new friend in the process. Since he is mute, he probably won’t tell anyways. We might be able to help more if we knew a    little more about him. Are you willing to tell us?
~V&W”

    I scrunched up my nose in thought. I couldn’t be friends with Bengt. It would be a disaster. Not only would it break my One-Man-Wolf-Pack, but it would be a violation of my whole moral code.
    Who was “V&W” anyway? I clicked on their page and saw the whole background had a beautiful and colorful pattern of Day of The Dead skulls.
    “How pretty,” I said aloud, “What do you think, Barry?”
    I knew Barry liked it whether he told me so or not. I smiled and propped him up next to me. I continued to gander at the page before realizing I never read the title.
    “‘Valeria & Wendy’s Vlog Vomit’, what kind of a name is that?” I raised my brow. I looked at their entries and sure enough they had video blogs all over. Their picture was of two girls who I assumed were Valeria and Wendy. I just had no idea which girl was which. Both were Hispanic heritage, by the looks of them. They both had long and dark hair, and they also had brown eyes. Perhaps they were sisters.
    I went back to Barry’s page and clicked the ‘Reply’ button.

“Dear V&W,
            My owner is a very… complicated person. She believes that if she has friends that she will only hurt them in the end. At the beginning of high school, she did something terrible, and that caused her to be hated by the whole student body. If she does have a friend, that friend could possibly get targeted. Since the boy is new, she does not know much about him. All she does know is that he is mute, and he is in  most of her classes. Considering that she has all Advanced Placement classes, he must be pretty smart. He was bound to figure it out sooner or later. Do you really think she could benefit from having a friend?
 ~Barry the Lion”

    I yawned loudly, rolling onto my stomach. Can these girls really help me? I doubted it. They were giving me advice though. Perhaps they could help me with my predicament.
    When I yawned again, I finally felt the wave of exhaustion hit me. I closed my laptop and put it on my nightstand. With my shoes already kicked off, I simply climbed under the covers, not caring that I was fully dressed, and cuddled up with Barry.
    “Don’t worry, Barry,” I spoke softy to him, “I’ll be fine. Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal. Just you wait.”

…

    I woke with my alarm clock blaring in my face. Groggily, I hit the ‘Off’ button. The alarm stopped, and I sat up with tired eyes.
    “I got a lot of sleep last night,” I said tiredly, “but it was definitely not enough.”
    I slid out of bed, tucking Barry back in so he could sleep more. It was five o’clock in the morning, and not a soul was awake through the house. I hopped into a hot shower, and it warmed my cold body up completely where I was wide awake.
    By the time I got out it was around 5:40. I quickly got dressed and readied myself for the school day ahead. I was eating my breakfast when my mother decided to grace me with her presence.
    “Morning, Ali,” she greeted me.
    “Hey, mom,” I greeted back.
    She sat in the chair opposite from mine. “How is school?”
    “Terrific,” I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.
    Apparently my mom is immune to sarcasm. That or she didn’t quite catch it in my reply.
    “I’m glad,” she said, taking a bite out of one of my pieces of toast as she left.
    I begrudgingly bit another piece off of my toast. I know that she doesn’t really care about me. If she did, she would have heard the sarcasm and spoken up about it.
    I couldn’t care less. She does what ever she wants to. It’s always been that way.
    The city bus was on its way, and I had to hurry. I grabbed my bag and ran out the door.

…

    I was in my seat minutes before the bell rang. My book was open, my notes were out, and I was ready to begin even before Mr. Skylark was. I gazed over at the empty seat next to me. Bengt was going to be late if he didn’t get here in 3…2…1….
    RING! Right on time the bell rang, and sure enough Bengt made it in before it stopped. He made his way over to me and plopped down into his seat.
    ‘Morning, Ali.’ He greeted me in his thoughts.
    I ignored him. It is most likely the greatest accomplishment of the week. Somehow it is like I want to talk to him. Maybe it is because I’m the only one who can fully understand him.
    I felt a little guilty, now that I think about it. He can’t communicate to others because of what he was possibly born with. I sighed loudly before reluctantly saying, “Morning, Bengt.”
    His eyes lit up to what looked like neon blue lights. He smiled widely and turned away quickly as his face reddened.
    What a weirdo. I probably shouldn’t talk to him again if he is going to keep doing that.
    “Ali?” Mr. Skylark called on me, “Are you listening?”
    “Yes, Mr. Skylark. I’m listening,” I lied. I was too busy in thought to be paying attention to the reading. What were we reading again? Was it something about Japanese-Americans? I can’t even remember.
    “You are?” Mr. Skylark challenged, “Then answer the question I just asked.”
    I froze. If I asked for the question again, he would know that I’m not paying attention. Mr. Skylark or anyone else wasn’t going to help me. Their thoughts were full of laughter at how humiliating this was for me. I had to think of something quick.
    Suddenly, I heard Bengt think, ‘The question was: why did the narrator have to move to the camp of Manzanar?’
    That’s right. We were reading Farewell to Manzanar. I forgot for a second. With a smirk, I said, “The narrator had to go to Manzanar because her family is Japanese-American, and after Pearl Harbor the government believed that all the Japanese-Americans were giving their secrets to Japan. They had to go on government orders and stay there until the government said otherwise.” If Bengt told me the wrong question just to mess with me, I am going to kill him. I will kill him in the most violent way possible.
    A surprised look graced Mr. Skylark’s face. He then grumbled, “Glad you were paying attention.” He then went on a monologue about the book.
    Bengt had given me the right question. His life had been spared. I reached over to him and gave a polite “thank you” for helping me. He smiled and thought, ‘You are very welcome, Ali.’
    I gagged at the sweetness in his thoughts. It was not too late for me to stop talking to him. Well, I guess it was. We just established that I was a mind reader. If he didn’t know it before, he sure knew it now. Why was I such an idiot?
    The bell rang and just as I was about to race off to my next class, Bengt stopped me.
    ‘Shall we walk to our next class together?’
    Oh No. Does this mean he considers us as friends? Does he want to get to know me? Why, World? Why?! Okay, calm down. I can do this. I just had to tell him the word.
    “Sure,” I responded.
    I botched it. I can’t tell him “no”? What is wrong with me? I tried to shake off my idiocy while Bengt and I walked to Algebra II.

…

    It was once again Lunchtime. I sat at my usual table and stared off into space. It was useless to think about how much of a moron I was. I’ve thought about it too many times to count. All I really need to think about was how to deal with Bengt, AKA “the problem”.
    Should I just stop talking to him? That’s the first possibility. All I’d have to do is give him the cold shoulder for a bit, and maybe he’d back off. Then again, he is rather persistent. It would definitely take more than “a bit” to shake him off.
    Could I just tell him to leave me alone? I guess that could work. He’d ask questions on why I’m telling him off. It would be a hassle for him to keep pestering me like I know he would. He’s already been doing it.
    Maybe I can kill him? That’s always a little extreme. Even though it gets rid of my problem, people will ask questions. They’ll wonder where he went and who did it. Eventually it will come back to bite me. So killing him would be impossible.
    I glanced over to him, and he gave me a bright smile. I grimaced back. I wonder if he’d smile if he knew I had thought about killing him. He probably would. He is an idiot.
    I noticed he was sitting with the old yearbook boys again. He motioned over to me, but I shook my head. I couldn’t sit next to them. They still hate me from last year, especially Greg.
    He kept motioning over to me, and I was getting tired of it quickly. I growled to myself, got up, and walked out of the cafeteria. He just doesn’t understand that I can’t sit with them. I just can’t.
    I heard footsteps pattering behind me. Bengt had followed me outside. I grimaced and took off in the opposite direction. I hoped that he wasn’t a track star or else I was in trouble. I wasn’t the fastest runner, but when I heard his steps grow closer, I sped up.
    Staying true to my gender, I tripped over my own two feet and took a tumble straight to the ground. My face hit the ground with a smack, and I let out a loud groan of pain.
    ‘Ali! Are you alright?’ I heard Bengt ask me.
    “Fine,” I groaned, “I’m super fabulous.”
    Bengt gave a chuckled. He hoisted me up and made a gasp.
    ‘Ali, your nose is bleeding! We have to get you to the nurse’s office!’
    I smacked his hand away from me. “Go away, Bengt. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help, okay? Just leave me alone.”
    Bengt gave me a pout. ‘Why are you so stubborn?’ he asked, ‘You are going to the nurse’s. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.’
    Bengt then proceeded to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I gave a surprised yelp, and he walked off.
    “Bengt!” I shouted angrily, “Put me down!”
    ‘No,’ Bengt thought stubbornly.
    “Bengt!” I struggled as best as I could, “Put me down or else!”
    ‘Or else what?’ he challenged.
    “I’ll make your life miserable! I’ll make it a living hell! I swear it! Put me down!”
    Bengt did not answer me. Instead he let me kick my feet and flail my arms while screaming at the top of my lungs. It must have looked pretty funny to all the onlookers. I had no idea which was more embarrassing, him carrying me or me screaming.
    With not much energy, I was done fighting halfway to the nurse’s. I decided to let out loud sighs of anger to see if he’d just get annoyed with me.
    I sighed once. He didn’t respond. I figured I hadn’t did it loud enough, so I increased in volume the next time. Still he didn’t respond. I finally made a louder one to which he responded to.
    ‘Are you going to stop anytime soon?’ Bengt asked.
    “Not until you put me down,” I replied.
    ‘Fine,’ Bengt said, putting me on my feet.
    “Thank you,” I said, and I was going to walk away when I realized that we were at the Nurse’s.
    I gave him the darkest glare I could manage, but he met it with a wide smile. He pushed my reluctant self in, and we found the Nurse at her desk.
    “Can I help you?” the woman asked without looking at us. She suddenly turned around and gasped. “Oh my! I did not know it was this serious! Come in, come in!”
    Did I seriously look that bad? Maybe the most embarrassing thing was my face after I fell. If only there was a mirror where I could check out the damage done, literally.
    “What happened?” the Nurse asked me.
    “I tripped and fell on the ground,” I told the truth. Oh how I wish someone could have punched me in the face. Not only would it have been more exciting, it probably would have been less embarrassing.
    The Nurse raised a brow. “Are you sure? People don’t usually break their noses like that.”
    My eyes darkened. “Are you saying I’m lying?”
    The Nurse looked taken aback. “Oh no. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry for asking.”
    I grunted in pain as she dabbed the blood off my philtrum. I eyed Bengt, who looked clearly concerned about me. I grimaced. Why did he have to make such a face at me? I’m clearly fine. It’s not like I’m dying.
    “Well, it doesn’t look broken,” the Nurse began, “I say it is just bruised up. Please be careful from now on.”
    I nodded and stepped off the bed. I motioned at Bengt to follow me out. The Nurse stopped us, however.
    “Thank you, young man, for bringing her here,” she said, “It was such a nice thing to do.”
    Bengt nodded with a smile. It was all he really could do considering that he was mute. I’m sure he would reply if he could.
    The Nurse went back to her desk, thinking, ‘How rude. He couldn’t at least thank me for fixing her up?!’
    I stopped dead in my tracks and growled. I turned on my feet, stomped over to the Nurse, and slammed one of my hands on her desk. She looked at me in surprise.
    “First of all, his name is Bengt,” I told her off, “Second, he is mute, so he can’t respond to you. And third, you did nothing but wipe my nose off and tell me that it is bruised. Have a fantastic day, madam.”
    The look in her eyes after I had responded to exactly what she was thinking was priceless. It always was when I did it to anyone. The way their faces twist in horror, and their eyes grow in surprise. It is probably one of the reasons I like doing that so much, but if I do it too often, I’d get kicked out of the school. It’s happened to me every time, yet I can’t seem to stop it.
    Furthermore, why did I even defend Bengt in the first place? It would seem that I am growing a soft stop for him that I clearly do not wish to have. We’ve only know each other for two days, darn it! Just because I am the only one who can understand him doesn’t mean that I can be his only friend. He has Greg, Trevor, and Mark as friends. What does he need me for? As I was talking myself to death, Bengt put his hand on my shoulder and said:
    ‘Thank you for defending me. Does that make us friends?’
    Did that make us friends? I had no idea. I simply shrugged and said, “We’ll see.”

Author's Note

I hope you enjoyed. ^^