Her

Her again. Always walking as if trying to escape her shadow--managing to keep up a quick pace with a constricted gait. Her long dress is to blame for that. Long hair laps upon her back like waves of the ocean. Never have I seen her face even though her hair is flipped back like a veil. I’m sure she’s beautiful. She has to be. You could just know by the way she walks. I watch her as she moves hastily like she’s scared-- like a refugee. From what? I wish I knew. There’s something about her shyness that makes her so different than the rest. There is no showing skin, plastering on make-up, or even talking up the guys, but something about her silence bothers me. There’s no kidding myself. I know why she’s quiet and so unsure of herself. Everybody does and it goes against everything I’m dying to stand for. Maybe I could be the one person she could confide in? Her first male friend; well, her only friend. I’ve only conversed with her once. “Hello, Missy. How are you?” “Fine.” She replied with her head bowed and hair obscuring her face like a mask. She said she was fine. Fine?  No, I don’t know her, but fine was a lie. A sweet lyre; singing unintentionally. She has that kind of voice that sails smoothly until it drifts into silence. Why? What about me is such a threat? Why is she so cautious? I’ve never done anything.

Wait! A sheet has fallen from her arms, rocking to the ground in a pendulum motion, and she didn’t notice. Here’s my chance.

“Missy! Hold on! You’ve dropped something!”

She halts rather abruptly, erecting her slightly hunched back. She’s always curved into herself, but my voice has startled her. It feels like I’m in a motion picture and a sheet of glass has just shattered in front of her. It would be a black and white film, silent, with captions at the bottom of the screen.

BOY: You’ve dropped a note.

GIRL: Thanks.

BOY: You’re welcome.

Then she scurries away almost in a trot. Not this time. No. I catch up to her and grab her arm lightly to let her know I’m still here.

BOY: Wait, can I walk with you?

GIRL: I don’t think so.

BOY: Well, can I at least meet you up sometime?

GIRL: Certainly not.

BOY; Why?

GIRL: Why can’t you jerks leave me alone?

BOY: Jerks?

I’m shoved away and she takes off in a hurry. Just like that. Maybe I came off too strong or too condescending. Maybe I was too careful with my reassuring tone. I did sound like a brother trying to comfort a little sister. I turn to walk back but before long the leaves are crunching behind me. Missy is running at me, eyes swelling with tears, hazel eyes, gorgeous, lips quivering and teeth clutched, hair whipping behind her like lashing flames, dark black licorice hair; her face is heart shaped and perfect. She is better than I imagined. I underrated her.

GIRL: I’m sorry.

BOY: It’s okay.

GIRL: Will you please walk home with me?

BOY: I’d love to, but why did you say no first?

GIRL: Can you fight?

BOY: I’ve never fought in my life.

GIRL: If you walk with me, be prepared to. The boys down my street hate me because I’m different.

BOY: What do you mean different?

GIRL: Because I’m…I don’t know. I’m not their type.

BOY: Listen, I’ll walk with you. It’ll be okay.

Silence the whole walk towards her street as I hold her books and look at her secretively from the corner of my eye. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her back is curved in again. She is staring blankly at the ground as if she’s lost in thought. I want to say something, but nothing intelligent comes to me because I’m terrified. I don’t think it will be okay at all. I think I will end up with a few broken bones and maybe a black eye. Bloody lip perhaps? Nose? I’ve never had a broken bone before, ever. But I know the boys she’s talking about. I know them well, and they are my friends. Or were, until the moment I walk down her street and the first insult is yelled. I’ll burn my bridges for her; for this girl I don’t even know.

© Mikal Minarich