� A boy, an apple and a pudding cup. � 2005-12-12 � 9:40 p.m. �
Old friends... those from the days of ole... I couldn't exist without them.
In tenth grade math I sat beside the most popular kid in school and most definitely known as the "hottest". He was the "jock"... fab track star... and a smarty too boot. He wasn't apart of the usual crowd I hung out with, and I generally avoided him simply because without knowing him, I assumed with his reputation, he'd be like the rest... a good friend of mine was also, not so discretely, all about him in every way, which pretty much made being in his presence awkward for anyone who knew her.
I learned that quickly in the tenth grade who he really was... we buddied up to do math work together and I discovered he was the opposite of what I would have imagined. He was shy and kind, and had a complete disregard for his own reputation...
He was long-haired, and beautiful with kind eyes and a great smile... he was soft spoken and smart... understanding and generous. He was always the first to help me with my constant math confusion, lend me a pencil, give me a hair band, be my math buddy... he'd help me with my homework when I needed it... he was just my saviour.
Though he wasn't apart of the tight circle, we were best friends in math class and I remember well the first day he took me by surprise... It was the end of day and I had packed my things to head for the bus... he was standing at the end of the hall, closer to his locker than mine, with an apple in hand and as I came closer I smiled... "Goodnight, J..."
"Manda? Can I walk you to the bus?"
I found it strange that he who had a world of girls flock to him at all times wanted to walk to his bus with me... We headed out the door towards the road... and we spoke of nothing at all, but never stopped talking the whole time. We reached our buses... and upon parting ways he stopped. Apple in one hand and a book in the other he reached around me and pulled me in... kissed my cheek and said goodnight.
I remember this... because I rememeber thinking how much I would be hated for that moment... how I knew every girl in the school was standing around gawking... wishing and hating me simply for point in time when his lips hit my face... and as soon as he pulled away from me, I stopped caring.
He was a genuine boy who cared... and wanted nothing else but to care. I could feel that in his arms. It's rare.
Walking to the bus became ritual for us. He'd wait for me at the end of the hall and we'd walk and talk... arms linked or arms around waists. We didn't socialize at school other than math and afterschool... we didn't socialize much after classes either....
It was great... we were great... and after highschool we went our own ways. I've seen him a handful of times since... once at a field concert... when I felt a man wrap around me from behind... burry his face in my neck... and sway... and I could tell by his genuine arms that it was him. I didn't need his face.
Even now... we hardly speak... we send one email each once a year... and my highschool buddies are baffled by the fact that we even keep in touch at all... I guess yes, if we were to measure people in leagues, he would have been far out of mine, and people were never really aware of our admiration for each other... never knew we were truly good to eachother...
We liked it that way. I didn't want to be hated or thought the slut I wasn't... and he liked the peace that was us... the fact that I didn't want him... that I disregarded his reputation as much as he did.
He is one of the few things I cherish most about my teenage years... he's one of the bonds I love most. His friendship was the prelude to Davy's... and he reminded me, in the midst of hell, that I was loved.
I've never told him the impact he made on me... other than without him I'd still be in math class.
He's on msn right now for the first time in years... and I think he should know how I haven't forgotten a thing.
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