Chapter two . . .

Chapter Two: Summer/ The Change/ Confession

The summer before we started high school, something changed. We had agreed to meet each other by the river after school ended on our final day of middle school. I got there before she did, and while I waited I sat looking at the water, savoring the idea of three months without any obligations. Of course, summer wouldn't really be like that. I'd start soccer camp in three weeks, and my parents insisted that I practice my saxophone so that I would get a good place in the band in high school. But for those few moments by the river, I could imagine that every day of the summer would be as carefree as I felt then.

I saw her biking down the road, her brown hair streaming behind her. She smiled and slowed down. She ran down to meet me.

"I have a good feeling about next year," she said. "It'll be like starting fresh. I'll try hard to be more outgoing and I'll get better grades, and everything will be perfect. I just know it."

I laughed and said, "I hope you're right."

She laughed too, and then she started to sing. She had a beautiful singing voice, although she didn't like to perform in front of lots of people. She always sang when she felt happy or hopeful.

She sang a lot that summer. She didn't talk about death, and she didn't come close to tears every time she mentioned her mom. Her bruises faded, and I wondered whether she really was becoming a different person.

We spent most of our time by the river. There was a walnut tree that grew near the water. She loved that tree. It gave us shade during those hot afternoons, and we looked forward to the fall when the nuts would be ready to eat.

Then high school started. I saw her laughing with the other girls and yelling out answers in class. It seemed that she had really changed, and I was glad for her. But although she was loud and friendly at school, when I saw her by the river or in the woods by her house, she seemed much sadder and more withdrawn. Our conversations became almost nonexistent. I still met with her after school sometimes, but it wasn't like it had been before. I wondered whether we were still even friends.

Finally, she told me, "My new friends don't want me to hang out with anyone except them. I'm sorry."

Then she asked me to stop meeting with her after school. I left, and it hurt. I heard later that her group of friends had been saying mean things about me. I supposed that she really was a different person.

I didn't talk to her again until the last day of September. I'd been kicking a soccer ball in my back yard when I saw her running toward me, sobbing. She hugged me, and I held her awkwardly.

"I was just trying to make things work!" she exclaimed. "I was trying to smile and make people like me, but it was so fake! I didn't mean to hurt you! I fooled myself into thinking that I'd made friends, but I'm just as alone as I've always been."

Her voice cracked as she finished. Tears continued to stream down her face.

"What do you mean?" I replied, startled. I didn't know what had happened to make her act like this, but I guessed that her new friends hadn't been that great after all. I knew that I had to comfort her. "You aren't alone. I'm with you. I'm still your friend."

She gave me a wan smile as she said, "That's a nice thing for you to say, but I know that it was just pity that made you my friend, and then I pushed you away for people who didn't even care at all. I'm sorry that I wasn't worthy enough for real friendship. I'm so sorry! I realize now that you were just being nice, and I'm sorry that I never paid you back for that. I . . . I didn't deserve it. When I came into this world, it was a mistake. I just caused people pain. I should've been kinder to my mom when my dad died, and now she's hurt forever. Maybe if I was erased from the past, she'd be a happier person. I wouldn't have been there to hurt her, or you. I've ruined everything."

With that, she ran off down the road, and I lost sight of her. I looked for her in all the usual places, but I couldn't find her anywhere. It was as if she had disappeared.