It took me two weeks to make an actual friend.
Mike Newton was in most of my classes. He was tall, with natural blond hair, and skin that always looked mildly sunburned. His parents owned a camping store down the road from school and he usually walked there after school to help out. He was the only one in our grade with an actual job, though he said people would help out for some pocket money. He offered to set me up with a job if I wanted it. I was not sure if I should be annoyed or excited. Maybe he was including me in his friends?
Mike caught me on my way towards the parking lot. We were standing under an overhang, watching the rain slowly turn to hail. He looked embarrassed but asked if I was going anywhere important.
I shrugged and told him, "Just… home? Not a lot of places to go."
Mike rubbed his hands together. "Could you give me a ride to work?"
"My dad won't say no," I said. "But he will ask for a discount on bait."
"I can probably arrange something," Mike said.
When Dad pulled in, we made a run for it. Dad was fine dropping Mike off, and even commented that it was nice to see me making friends. He didn't even ask if Mike was my boyfriend, something Phil liked to do anytime someone male even talked to me... no matter their age.
Dad decided he needed bait when we dropped Mike off. He went into the store and I followed, with Mike next to me.
"Do you want a soda or a snack?" Mike said.
"Do you have Cherry Coke?" I asked.
"Yeah, actually," I said.
Mike smiled. "Well, you did give me a ride. Dad let's me give friends stuff all the time."
"We're friends?" I asked. "You're my first friend here."
"Why wouldn't we be?" Mike asked. "Unless you don't think we are?"
I said, "I have a tough time telling if people are being serious sometimes."
"That's cool. We are friends. You are giving me a ride during Armageddon."
"Well, I couldn't let you die out there in that horrible hail," I said.
"Well, being a ghost isn't the worst thing you could be," Mike said.
"I could be you," I said.
Mike laughed and I felt like I was getting somewhere. It might be at a snail's pace, but I was a social snail with a purpose.