The Diary that Held More Info than a NAIA (Armed) Chip
I: From the Diary of Elena Potato
April 14, 2011
I never knew for sure when Zick and I became friends. Best friends. Sometimes it'd seem just yesterday, other times I'd think it had been for all our lives. One thing for sure: he was always there with open arms.
Zick and I had our fights. We still do. From petty arguments to silent treatment to tattletaling. But we never told secrets. We sometimes made up smear campaigns, but never got into full-out backstabbing.
But mostly we were friends. Bossom buddies. No kidding. And even though the kids at school called me 'the weirdo's girlfriend', I still liked him. We still stuck. And I still loved him. As a friend.
Deep down, though there's no use getting me to admit, I was proud. Not a bloated-head popular girl, but an ecstatic friend. I was proud, yeah. Proud to know Zick. Proud to be his friend. Proud to share is special world and the magic and treachery – and romance – of it all. Proud to know his confidential and trivial secrets. Proud to know he entrusted me with them.
Two years a go, when we were in seventh grade, all of the above was there. And, in Zick's opinion (and hormones?), another major thing. Or species of H-O-T: Lay Mamery. Pretty, confident, a boy-magnet.
I wouldn't necessarily call Zick a chic dude. Picture Zick flirting girls and you're looking at the impossible. Imagine him swapping spit with one of them cheerleaders, and you'd burst out laughing. Zick is no dirtball jock.
Okay, I did feel a smidge jealous. It's kinda hard to explain. It's the kind of jealous that, well, you want Zick to be imagining you without your clothes instead of Lay. No, not that. Well, it was just – see, it's Zick and me and Teddy usually hangin' out, and Lay sorta took up some of his sightseeing. It just was sort of annoying. Try it with a male best friend that you're totally only friends with and see how it feels when he starts getting nabbed by girls.
About hanging out. I liked it better when Teddy was grounded or was sick or had this and that to do and Zick paid my way to a movie (we both stuffed ourselves full of soda and popcorn).
We went on a lot of dates. But they were anything but. First: identification. We called them hangouts. Second: status. Neither of us was like semi-uncomfortable or giggly or nervous like we are on first dates. We just watched and laughed (or cried) and burped. Third: conversation. We talked about stuff pretty easily. Nothing like a date, where you have to pick your words. So anyway, the point? I wanted his attention. All of it.