-8
:Adam:
When I was eight, my 'rents and I lived in a very small neighborhood here in Cress. The only other kid my age living there was Heather so we got to know each other by default, really. Both of us were kind of stand-offish and outspoken; she wanted to be in charge of everybody and everything while I wanted to sit by myself and get lost in the caverns of my own mind. In retrospect, we bonded out of closeness and convenience more than anything else.
We usually ended up playing with her extensive Barbie doll collection. She had several Ken dolls, but every time, she always pulled out one very specific doll that wasn't made by Mattel at all. It was a hand-sewn and crafted plush toy with Spanish orange skin, dark brown felt hair, and a red shirt; she called him "Alejandro."
I usually had to be the one to portray him; and she had a very specific vision of who he was and how he behaved, too. He was Mr. Perfect, more or less, a knight in shining armor that saved the other Barbies from evil aliens, jealous ex-wives, evil business tycoons, envious high-profile models, and, the only aspect that really kept me participating at all, my Dalek action figures. In essence, Alejandro was Heather's favorite fictitious hero, similarly to what the 4th Doctor is to me.
For the longest time, I assumed that he was her imaginary friend or something, until one day I found something poking out from under her pillow. It was an 8x10 photo of a smiling green-eyed brunette, a kid that held a very striking resemblance to Heather's favorite toy...
"Alejandro's real?" I prompted her, holding up the photo.
Her face was bright red, the same shade as a ripe tomato. Angrily, she stomped up to me, mashed my toes with the heel of her shoe, then pried the picture from my fingers.
"What was that-?"
"Don't mess with my stuff!" she cried.
"I'm sorry..." I whimpered, backing away from her.
"Alejandro...was my pen pal," she admitted sheepishly. "I have a huge crush on him, okay? If you tell anybody, I'll-"
"I won't tell!" Now my face was dark red, imagining her giving me a wet willie or something. My heart roared in my ears like a distant tidal wave.
"Good."
"Do you still write to him?" I followed up, curiosity getting the better of me. I started imagining him flying through the air, shooting laser beams from his eyes and stuff. It'd be so super cool if her pen pal was a real life superhero as she imagined him to be!
"No..." she sighed, starting to cry. "He moved and I lost his address..."
"I'll help try and find it!"
"I've tried-"
"We'll find it!" I encouraged, smiling at her. "With two people looking, we'll find it!"
I did find the letter she'd been looking for, with the address and everything. When I'd read it, I discovered Alejandro admitted to developing a crush on Heather, too, as well as saying that he and his family were moving to New York City. Only an hour away from Cress...
This bothered me on a subliminal level. While part of me wondered what it'd be like to hang out with a superhero, another part warned me that if she knew this, I'd lose my best friend...So, I hid the letter from her and fudged that I just couldn't find it. After that, Heather's crush on Alejandro started to erode and wear away. Without Alejandro around, nobody could possibly take her from me or ruin our friendship.
[[[
I've always loved red, white, and blue rocket Popsicles. There's always two boxes in the freezer, whether Mom and Dad got one to pleasantly surprise me or I bought one to sate my horrible fix. My after-school routine from third grade through fifth grade was: flag down Heather in the school hallway, go over to my house, nab the prerequisite Popsicle, then watch an hour or so of Dr. Who, Star Trek, or a movie.
Throughout fourth and fifth grade, she became more participatory in my interests; I remember watching her dark eyes light up every time she saw the primitive, but highly intelligent and adaptive Leela come on screen when we watched the Tom Baker series of Dr. Who episodes. Every discussion we had was an intense discourse on what it meant to be a Vulcan, how the 4th Doctor found so many different uses for his scarf, etc. Because of that, fourth grade and sometime into fifth was the happiest year and a half of my life.
I admit it: That's when I started crushing on her. I had dreams where I was Andred and she was Leela; she gave up her life of intense adventures to settle down with me. Those were usually followed by far more mundane and the rare real-life based dreams I had every so often. We were teenagers at the prom and in those, I was a younger Captain Kirk while she was a knockout in red. It got to the point where I'd convinced myself that I could replace Alejandro as the object of her affections.
When my heart was close to bursting, I told myself I just had to wait. If I held out for six more years, I'd grow into a bigger, stronger, and sexier guy. Only then I could admit my feelings and because I was so attractive, Heather couldn't turn me down. For now, I'd just be as good a friend as I possibly could be; we could just continue bonding over mutual interests and Popsicles...
The biggest obstacle to my plan arrived halfway through sixth grade: the pink-loving, green-eyed, and blond Dakota. The moment she met Heather, she pulled out a big make-up kit, snapped it open, and started avidly discussing make-up with her. I noticed them in the hallway and walked over, wondering if the blond girl might be another possible Whovian or Trekkie.
"You know...you'd look good with glittery pink lip gloss," she was telling Heather, her own lips smeared with a ridiculous amount of the stuff.
"Do you have the lipstick version of the sonic screwdriver in your kit?" I asked, smiling wide.
"Adam!" Heather hissed.
"Or maybe a compact that shoots laser beams?" I followed up, my smile almost splitting my face.
This time, Heather stomped roughly on my toes, her rude way of telling me to shut up or acquiesce to her demands. She'd gotten more mean and aggressive since her Uncle Dan visited earlier this year; vaguely, I remembered him ruffling my hair and giving the strange comment, "So, you have found your own Chris to boss around, eh, Heather?"
"Just ignore him," Heather growled.
"A compact that shoots laser beams does sound pretty cool!" Dakota replied, pencil thin eyebrows raised.
"See?" I shot a victorious glance at Heather. "Hey Dakota, wanna come over after school and watch-"
"America's Next Top Model?" Heather cut me off.
Dakota's eyes became big, shining orbs and she was wearing a huge smile. "Yes!"
I was a bit disappointed, but hey, I'm open-minded and can get lost in the chasm of my own mind if I get bored. "Hey Heather-"
"Girls only," Heather insisted.
"But-"
"She has a point..." Dakota backed her up, but guiltily. "Guys just don't get fashion..."
"How do you know?" I protested. "There's male fashion-"
"Those men are older, civilized, and cultured," Heather returned, brows arched. "Besides, you'd complain about not getting to watch Dr. Who or Star Trek!"
"No!"
"Yeah," Heather barked. "Yeah, you would. And besides, I need a girl friend to do girl stuff with, Adam. Give me some space!"
"Tomorrow, maybe?"
"Heather and I are getting mani-pedis then," Dakota said apologetically. "My dad gets those sometimes, so couldn't he join us then, Heath-?"
"No," she interjected, glaring at me.
"Friday?"
"Shopping."
"Saturday?"
"Maybe."
For the next three days, the raspberry and blueberry artificial flavoring of my favorite Popsicles just didn't taste the same. Instead, eating one of them without Heather there felt like betrayal. A few times, I could swear I could see the leftover imprint of her butt on the light gray couch. When Saturday rolled around, the TV was turned to cartoons and I hovered near the phone, staring helplessly and impatiently at the caller ID. Two hours passed and then I dialed her home phone.
It rung close to thirty times before going to voicemail. Then, Heather's recorded voice told me, "Dakota, Lindsay, Beth, and I are having a sleepover...You're not invited, Adam."
I dropped the phone on the end table and turned off the TV, sitting there and staring blankly at the wall as the phone's feedback became the only noise in the room. The sound kept growing and intensifying, until I felt like it was the garbled version of the anguished, keening cries echoing throughout the antechamber of my mind...
[[[
I tried so hard to get Heather to hang out with me again, but she found more and more ways to avoid and vox me out. Throughout seventh and eighth grade, I just stopped trying; I watched her from a distance, pining for her so strongly I felt hollowed out inside. Somehow, I managed to keep this to myself, though, branching out and finding new friends in the form of Sam and Harold.
Sam introduced me to video games; a new past time that whiled away my evenings. Of course I could never beat him due to how much more time and experience he had over me, but I couldn't help trying. When we weren't playing video games, Harold was introducing us to 70s kung-fu movies or asking us for our opinions of the newest project he was working on; Harold was a multi-talented and ambitious man that wanted to take on the world! His attitude was infectious.
Everything changed again freshman year when Sam started going out with Heather's now ex-best friend Dakota. He was so secretive about it for the first few weeks, bailing on several game nights, but eventually he fessed up. Both Harold and I didn't get why he didn't just admit to it sooner; any guy would be lucky to have Dakota. She's a ten in both looks and personality.
For awhile, Harold and I just had to deal with Sam sectioning up his free time; he was fair, making sure that we still had nights dedicated to just the guys. Then, Harold met LaShawna. He wasn't quite as considerate and levelheaded as Sam. Infatuation took hold of him so strongly, he ditched Sam and I entirely for close to a month.
Since she and Sam felt like I was getting left out, Dakota decided to make it her mission to find me a girlfriend. Part of me was furious, but the sliver of me that had been getting especially envious and resentful of Sam and Harold relented.
I remember sitting with her and Sam at the mall. She was looking at every passing girl with a skeptic eye, nodding, and tapping her chin. Then she looked towards me with a big, megawatt smile.
"So, Adam, what are you looking for in a girl?"
The moment she asked, Heather entered my mind and I started blushing furiously. "I want a girl that's nice, but abrasive and aggressive. A confident girl that knows what she wants and takes charge!"
"Adam," she sighed, folding her arms. "You need to get over Heather."
"That description isn't exclusive to just Heather!" I protested.
"It describes her to a T," Dakota replied, eyes narrowed. "Trust me, Adam. You can find someone way better than her. If you were dating her, she'd be mean, walk all over you like a doormat, and treat you like crap!"
"How do you know?" I growled, blushing ferociously. My teeth were gritted, heart pounding against my rib cage and rattling it.
"That's the way she treated me..." Dakota said softly. "Why do you think we stopped being friends?"
I knew she was right and I felt horrible for slighting her. Dakota had gotten to know Heather as she'd started transforming into a cold, relentless monster. Regardless, I couldn't help being kind of defensive; the things unrequited love does to a guy.
"I'm sorry..."
"It's not your fault," she said with a shrug. "I'm just trying to help you out, give you some friendly advice."
"How bad...has she gotten?"
"She...she ruined my reputation at school," Dakota whimpered. "She called me a...a..."
"She's called me creepy little bastard, Freakazoid's missing cousin, and...quite frankly other fairly uncreative names," I returned, laughing a little. "She's not a very effective trash talker."
"She spreads rumors," Dakota replied, frowning. "It's what she can do rather than what she says."
"Who cares what everybody else thinks of you?"
"You don't get it," Dakota groaned. "She targets the people you do care about. For example, there were two girls at summer camp she really didn't get along with. She broke up one girl and her boyfriend, then the other..." Dakota fiddled with her fingers. "She framed the other as a cyber bully."
"Holy crap! Seriously...?"
"She tried to do the same to me!" Dakota cried. "Recorded phone conversations between her other friend Beth and her bf Brady were posted on Facebook under my name!"
The tension was escalating quickly, my heartbeat increasing that much more. Would Heather really stoop so low? While I really wanted to ask further questions, it looked like Dakota was on the brink of tears, shaking as if she were cold. The horribly curious side of me won out against my better judgment.
"Has she done this to anyone else?"
"Let's stop discussing her," Sam interjected, looking up from his DS. He closed the lid and grabbed Dakota by the shoulder, pulling her into a small hug. As Dakota closed her eyes and started taking several deep breaths, Sam shot a glare at me.
Okay, looks like my big mouth got me in trouble again...
Dakota took a few minutes to calm down, engaging in several breathing exercises. Then she pumped her arms, took one last deep breath, and announced, "Today, you're going to find a girl and ask her out on a date!"
My eyes widened and from the way Dakota started snickering, followed by a few chuckles from Sam, I guess my facial expression was funny. I've been told that I have a very expressive, and hilariously so, face.
"That's...that's pretty ambitious..."
"Then let's aim for you getting her number instead, then," Dakota amended.
"I don't know-"
"You have to have some way of getting in contact with her if you're ever gonna ask her out on a date!" she insisted.
"Hey Sam!" I started tugging at the collar of my button down shirt. "How did you summon up the courage to ask out Dakota?"
The big lug didn't even look up from his DS as he responded, "We met at one of her dad's parties, started talking and texting, and then it just..." He smiled a little. "Technically, Dakota asked me out."
Blushing, Dakota nuzzled Sam's arm, then turned to me again. "That's another possibility, Adam. She might ask you out!"
"Ah..." I started playing with the top button of my shirt. For the thousandth time, I was starting to get extremely reluctant about following through with this. Honestly, I wanted to go back to discussing Heather and how evil she had become; that seemed like a far more feasible topic than me getting a girlfriend.
"Okay Adam, I'll play your wing woman!" Dakota encouraged, standing up and stretching. "Go into the GameStop over there...A really cute redhead just walked in!"
"Um...Dakota?" Sam frowned up at her. "That redhead was a sixth grader. Not to mention, she was with a bluehaired kid in a knitted cap."
"You're uncannily talented at multi-tasking!" I replied, shooting a look between Sam and the slightly baffled Dakota.
"There might be other cute girls!" Dakota backpedaled. "Just go in and look!" She grabbed me by the forearm, then pushed me in the direction of the GameStop. Nerves started jarring as I took several steps over. Usually, I came here with Sam with the intention of browsing the shelves and then just leaving.
Something just wasn't sitting well with me about this. My intestines were a huge twisted knot and I started pondering the possibility of playing third wheel or...just finding other buddies to hang out with. No matter what Dakota said, my heart belonged to-
A voice suddenly rang out through the mall; a voice that to my ears was that of a siren that could lure men and crash ships. And similarly to those hapless and unfortunate sailors of myth, I was reeled in, along with many others, towards a small stage that had been set up in the very center of the mall. A colorful sign above the stage read "Karaoke" in very bold, blocky text.
A fairly short girl stood in the center of the stage, grasping the microphone and bellowing into it with her angelic voice. She had short sandy blond hair, her bangs covering one eye and the one revealed eye was dark green. She was wearing a blue T-shirt with Adventure Time's Finn the human on it, and appropriately enough, she was singing Gary Portnoy's Cheers theme.
When she finished, she promptly ditched the stage, avoiding the gaze of her newly won fans. Unfortunately, I was too far away to see her face clearly, but I could swear she was blushing. For reasons even I can't identify, I was drawn away from the crowd and over towards her, as if there was some sort of strong magnetic pull between the two of us.
When I was close enough, she looked up at me, confused. Our eyes locked for a long, awkward moment, then she looked away, shaking her head and...starting to walk away.
"Hey!" I called towards her, my voice kind of raspy. "Hey, you're a great singer..."
"Thanks." She gave me a small smile. "I don't give autographs...I might be willing to change my mind for some green, though." For emphasis, she extended her hand and rubbed her fingers together.
"No way!" I laughed.
"Stingy, greedy bastard!" she commented with a big cheeky grin before extending her hand. "The name's Artemis. In case you wanted to put it up in bright neon lights!"
"The name's Ricci, Adam Ricci," I replied, taking her hand and shaking it once while attempting a coy eyebrow wiggle.
"A James Bond reference? Really?"
"I've effectively learned how to do Spock's 'live long and prosper' hand gesture," I countered. "Does that impress you?"
In response, she raised her hand and spread her index and middle finger from her forefinger and pinky. "Does that answer your question, Captain?"
Oh, God...have I just met my dream girl?
"You've certainly impressed me!"
"Then...you're way too easily impressed," she snickered. "So...doing anything later?"
"All yours, milady."
"Perfect!" She winked at me and then lightly brushed my shoulder. "Simply perfect."
[[[
What most people don't know about Artie and I...We've pretty much friendzoned each other.
After we first met at the mall, we went out a few times, one time having an exclusive Dr. Who marathon at my house that resulted in a very intense make-out session.
We went out for three weeks, feeling intense attraction, but both of us knew we weren't clicking quite right. In the end, Artie admitted to me that she wasn't over her ex quite yet and I admitted to still harboring a behemoth crush on Heather. While I entertained the idea of continuing something with Artemis, we agreed to stay strictly out of the friends with benefits arena. Sometimes all I can think about at night are Artie's lips and how badly I want to be holding her next to me; it's brutal.
I probably ruined whatever chances I have of sparking up any kind of romance with her ever again...
It's our junior year of high school and I had that dream I used to have every other week at age eight. This time, though, I felt intensely turned on, anxious, and as if I'd had a major epiphany. From then on, I started dedicating every waking moment to making that childhood dream a reality. My feelings were a blazing, desperate sun, keeping me galloping towards...something.
Day might have been all about Heather, but evenings and nights, my brain was filled with Artie. I dreamed about her; every time she was near, I wanted to hug her tightly, take her hand, and just declare that I was ready to move on. My longing for her is more intense than my pining for Heather; it's not just a desire, it's a dire need. It feels like if I can't fix things with Artie, I've lost the last chance I may ever have at love. She's been my personal miracle; the greatest person I've ever known. If I'd met her first, I wouldn't even give Heather a passing glance...
Friendzoning Artemis? Biggest fuck-up of my entire life.
[[[
If there's any quantitative proof of fate, it's the fact that Heather's beloved childhood pen pal returned to her life this very week and captured her heart yet again. As I study their faces, I wonder if either one of them remembers, or if that little nugget of information has even clicked. Cam would say that it has on a subconscious level, hence why Alejandro held a pre-emptive advantage over every other pretty boy that would try and ask Heather out...
"Adam..." Heather harrumphed. "You're interrupting my date."
I remembered last night vividly: Artemis' red face, the tears pouring from her eyes. The way she'd held onto me, burying her face in the material of my shirt.
"I...I wanted to thank you for coming after me the other day," I told her, looking directly into those gorgeous dark eyes. "If it weren't for you and Alejandro, I'd be dead."
"Of course I went after you..." Her face had softened to the point I could swear she was somebody else entirely. "You were my first good friend."
"We were," I pressed, folding my arms and sighing. "Were friends."
"What do you want, Adam?" she prompted, folding her own arms. "Why are you here?"
"I told you why."
She shot me a look, followed by Alejandro sizing me up. That stare was almost as lethal as a laser beam, intimidating me. There'd actually been a time where I was considering challenging him...?
Heather's question repeated again in my mind and everything became clear. Blowing out a breath, I approached Alejandro with a few meaningful, confident steps, took his hand, and shook it. "Live long and prosper."
Then I let go of his hand, turned, and exited the big mansion. The sunlight felt feather light and carefree, a stark contrast to the two pairs of eyes glaring at me from the front window. As I got farther away, I opened and closed my hand. There was a long swathe of dirt in front of Heather's house, the telltale sign that Uncle Dan had visited fairly recently. Smiling, I spat on it, then took off at a brisk jog.
Heather's Uncle Dan could go rot in hell...
[[[
When I arrived at Cam's house, Mike's prostrate form on the floor and the presence of Artie's moony eyed cousin was enough to illustrate that weird stuff was about to happen. Maybe her theory about her older sister and cousin having psychic powers really did have more merit and credibility to it than I was willing to give previously. No matter what comes out of that wingnut's mouth, I'll be open-minded; I'll do whatever it takes to win her over.
I spot her sitting on the couch, palm covering her eyes as she massages her forehead with her index finger. Time starts slowing down as Cam opens his mouth to say something.
I just ignore it all, launching myself at Artie, pulling her hand away from her face, and smacking my lips against hers. Then I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer, but instead of feeling her arms wrap back around me, she remains stiff as a board. When I finally pull back, I'm expecting her to tell me what a piece of shit I am...
"You chose the worst possible time to do that," she announced unceremoniously.
