Bert

I walk quickly into the girls locker room, casually glancing around to make sure I'm alone, and begin to change. I hate doing it in front of people, especially ones I've never met before. Hell, I could barely do it last year in front Isabelle and Danielle and Eva. Suddenly I'm homesick for the fiftieth time and I plop down in my gym shorts, gathering my legs to my chest as I sit down on the cool wooden bench. I had P.E in the morning in Kenmore, too. Or "phy ed" as the kids here I say. I hate them. They're all blonde and similarly dressed, and they pronounce their vowels really weird. Everyone home was fairly normal. Diverse, though. There's got to be a group of alt-ish kids here somewhere, right? I stand as the bell rings and shrug off my coat, folding it neatly into my locker. I set my grey shirt aside and yank off my top just as a fellow classmate nearly bumps into me. I catch a flash of red hair as she quickly turns on her heel and goes around the other way, ending up behind me. Cheeks flushed, I turn and reach down for my shirt, casting a quick glance her way. She's sporting a Ramones shirt and dark jeans, her ginger hair tangled and eyeliner slightly smudged. Huh. Intrigued, I almost compliment her on her shirt before realizing that could turn into a conversation about a band I know next to nothing about. I mean, I can't tell her my favorite song is "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend". Or remember any album names. But I do happen to have a Ramones shirt, too. Maybe I'll wear it tomorrow and see what happens.

I did wear my shirt the next day. I turned towards the girl (whose name I had learned was Liberty) when she walked in and she grinned and said "nice shirt", not even looking me in the eye as she breezed by me. I muttered "thanks" and tried not to grin as I started to strip down for class. But the initial fascination was dimmed by her seeming indifference as well as my interest in more sociable people, including a boy named Jesse. There are small things I remember, though. Her eating a cupcake from a batch I'd made for a friend. Her dancing with a nerdy boy named Andrew and stepping all over him. Her wearing fake dreads in the winter and dancing to "Time Warp". Talking briefly about Joan Jett and Bikini Kill. Me bringing up the Moldy Peaches. Her dressed like a guinea pig and a stripper. Then hearing a rumor that she was a total dyke peaked my interest significantly. But I'd still all but forgotten about her until second semester rolled around. 

I was sitting in my English class, already bored and unamused, when I saw a familiar head of red hair bent down, looking intently at her phone. She was late and headed toward the only empty desk left in the room: coincidentally right in front of me. I felt my stomach drop and I became immediately tense, taken aback by how happy I was to see her. Then later, she was also in my history class. Due to similar friend circles, we ended up in the same class groups a lot, occasionally even talking a bit. But other than that, we didn't really try too hard to make conversation. I did every thing I could think of to get her attention: pull out drawings and work on them, bring up music I knew she liked, make dirty jokes or puns...but I nearly always did it all for naught. She would pay attention, sure, but she just wouldn't really say anything. Then we started talking more. We went on a field trip and she sat right by me. I tried to pretend I wasn't totally crushing on the random punk girl, so I just played my music really loud and tried not to freak whenever our arms accidentally brushed. We found a common love for Moulin Rouge and one time she yelled at me from down the hallway that "Mr. Brightside by The Killers is basically the entire plot of the movie" and I kicked myself for paying more attention to the way she said my name. 

Then one day in English we had to do a presentation on a book of our choice. Me, with my love of Lana Del Rey, thought immediately of Nabokov. But I figured it would be way too inappropriate and who else in 10th grade would read it anyways? But then she raised her hand and said "So...I've been reading Lolita..." and I went F**K. How is this humanly possible? We were meant to be friends. Why can't we f*****g talk to each other? So when nobody really said they'd read it she kinda shrugged and decided she'd do a different book, so she could have a partner. As she got up, I nearly sat and did nothing. But hey, there are only so many chances you get with this stuff. So I walked up to her.

"Hey Liberty, you're doing Lolita right?" She blinked at me and shrugged. "I don't know. Why?" I smiled. "Well, I've read it, so if you want a partner, I'd totally be down." She slung an arm over my shoulder and sang "Sweeeet" as she wheeled me over to Ms. Urtel so we could clear it. And that's how we started our whole friendship deal. We would talk in class a lot more and would start bitching about all of the dumb blonde w****s in our grade. We were even in an in-school club thing where I would sit with her and our friend Taylor. At one point, we even made lunch plans for after a mental health awareness walk. Just my luck: Taylor never showed. I ended up following Liberty to a neat little pizza place downtown before we headed to a coffee shop down the road. Mochas in hand, we walked to the book store across the street. It smelled old and musty, and the owner even had a few cats scurrying around. After maybe twenty minutes or so, we left. And with no place in general to be, we just walked and talked. About so much. Her old friends, my old friends. Movies. Music. Everything came so easy with Liberty and I still couldn't believe she liked me enough to put up with me for a whole afternoon. I learned all about Tim and Alexis and AJ and Isaac and Maddie--all these people who I'd never met before but suddenly knew so much about. And the Cherry Pit. Lib couldn't stop talking about it.

By the time we ended up nearly all the way across town, we were in Rasmussen woods and it was hot as Hell. She told me about the floating bridge and how she used to come here with Maddie and had recently been here with a boy named Levi. But even when we sat down and it was completely silent, I was content and comfortable. I admired the confidence and sureness in every step this girl took, every word that left her mouth. And I wanted to be a apart of her world so badly. When we finally got up to walk some more, we went to a record store--Liberty ogling the Rocky Horror soundtrack. "I've never seen it," I admit. She promises to borrow it from Tim so we can watch it at some point before bringing up the Cherry Pit again. She asks about shows and who I've seen. Again, I have to disappoint. "You're going. There's one in a few weeks and you can just crash at my place after." I grin at the idea of hanging out with Liberty again--of being a part of her life outside of school. How could I possibly hold her interest? I'm so borderline straightedge and she's punk rock as f**k. An hour or so later I head home, happier than I'd been in months.

From there we hung out a lot more. Pizza and Soda Shaq and Rocky Horror and the mall. It was hot and she showed up a few times in crop tops, earning dirty looks from my disapproving parents. And then, as promised, there came the day of the show. I was more sketched out than I'd ever been as she led me down a rickety staircase and into the pitch black basement. But I was introduced to her friends with her arm wrapped around one of my shoulders and she would yank me upstairs when she wanted a breath of fresh air or a cigarette. We walked to Walgreens where she bought me an Arizona, and when we got back to the alley outside the show Allistar offered me a drag, where I again admitted to having never done something before. She laughed when I coughed up a storm and teased me, but she never left my side. I was awkward and shy, but she would turn to me and smile reassuringly and I instantly felt better. Back at her house we sat by the fire and drank Dr. Pepper and I had no idea. No f*****g clue that there was much more in store. That summer was filled with firsts for me. And camping. Walking everywhere. Coffee. The Cherry Pit. Dancing with Liberty in a basement and canoeing and fires and realizing this girl was quickly taking over my life. 

Then school started up and I expected us to grow apart. Oddly enough, it brought us closer than ever. I quickly became accepted into the friend group and found myself falling into an easy pattern of familiarity with my ginger friend. The past year has been...a lot, to say the least. We became best friends; always in the know of what was going on with the other. Nearly even insepperable at times. We went as Wayne and Garth for Halloween and started doing all kinds of crazy s**t. And somehow when I became a little too attached she didn't shut me out. It's weird thinking about those feelings now, but I can't ignore the fact that they were there for so long. It's nice not to have to deal with them anymore. 

Sometimes I think our friendship has lost it's spark; when we walk in complete silence or just sit and watch tv. But then I realize that we're so damn comfortable with each other that silence doesn't bother us. It's not bad. We don't need mindless chit-chat to fill anything because the silence isn't awkward. We enjoy each other's company 99.9% of the time and it's f*****g fantastic. That doesn't happen often. She truly has become my family and I'm so thankful. Someday we'll live together and go shopping and have coffee at 5 am while we smoke and watch the sunrise. We'll have cute f*****g ferrets and go to shows and we'll both be so damn happy. And I'm so lucky to have her. May the story continue to grow over time and be one heck of a tale by the time we're 83.