I’m texting my friends furiously while my English class teacher drones on about something. I’m not really listening, because I read the whole A Midsummer Night’s Dream last week. 

Me: so whos telling her 

Zara: werent u doing it. 

Tina: no we all do it remember? zara c’mon cut lily some slack here 

Me: awww thanks tina. 

Tina: abby not gonna like it 

Zara: well duh. we’re basically dissing her 

Zara: I got it under control. dont worry. although you guys gotta help me 

Zara: bye. the math teacher’s getting weird. dont wanna get phone confiscated 

Me: ok bye 

I stare at the words until the screen goes dark. Abby’s not a bad friend, it’s just that she no longer fits in with us cool people. I mean, who wears bell-bottom jeans and long sleeves anymore? Maybe Zara’s right and we’ve outgrown her. I don’t like it, though. 

The bell rings, shaking me out of my thoughts. I pass Abby by the hall. She doesn’t see me yet, but I scrutinize her clothes up and down. Clunky terrible 60’s boots with wool dinosaur socks? Check. Spandex shorts, neon orange? Check. Green sweater with moth balls that smell like my grandma with matching cat eye glasses? Check. She trips over a piece of air and goes down. 

Yep. Just an average day. 

She spots me and waves as she gets up. I hurry on and pretend not to see her, but she calls me. “Lily! Over here!” 

I turn and paste a big grin on my face. “Abby! How are you? Do you want to walk to P.E. together?” 

The bell rings, and we dash towards the field, making it just in time. Coach Jenson blows into his whistle loudly. “Alright. Guys! Mile today. Get a partner who you don’t know well.” 

Abby immediately grabs me. I wince. “Remember, Abby. You can’t choose your friends.” She doesn’t even qualify as a friend anymore…right? 

I’m not so sure. 

As we run, Abby slows down, my other friends drag behind, but I keep racing towards the next turn, the faraway white lines of chalk, the farthest orange cone. But no matter how hard I run, I can’t seem to run away from myself.

As I walk to social studies in room 236 with Abby chitter-chattering away, her mouth going a mile a minute by my side, I feel like even the old, rusty clocks that hang on the wall 15 feet apart are looking disapprovingly at me and gossiping, she has no integrity. Dumping a perfectly good friend on her other friends say-so. 

Abby pulls out her chair on the other side of the room. I slide into my seat and discreetly check my texts. Ding. 

Abby: lily u there? 

Me: yeah whats up 

Abby: r u guys ignoring me and y 

I’m not sure if I should answer this question but I do it anyway. 

Me: u really wanna know 

Abby: YES 

I wait as my brain starts fighting against itself, then sigh and start typing. 

Me: …we grew up and u didn’t. we were good in kindergarten, but we’re the cool kids here at oakwood middle. you don’t live up to the name of “popular”, and you dress differently. Sry, but I think this is the way things have to be. 

I see the three dots appear and disappear. Zara and Tina congratulate me at lunch but I don’t feel like I’ve done anything good. I’m just the hammer that bangs down whenever they want something to change. 

2 months later 

Abby moved away to Florida yesterday morning. I saw all the moving boxes in her front lawn. It looked kinda like a funeral. I really hope she likes it. She’ll probably have better friends than us. We were bad friends. 

I never even apologized. What type of person am I? My grandmother once said that you need to discover yourself. Have I…discovered myself? 

Me. 

Me? 

6 years later

I’m going o to college today. NYU. My mom is crazily happy and my dad is crazily excited and my little sister is just crazy. She colored on my bedroom door yesterday. 

The train moves like a snail. I swear I le the station a few minutes ago and I still see my mom waving. I breathe heavily on the window and trace on the fog with my newly manicured nails from the salon. I draw just like Abby and I did when we were small. 

Getting o the train, I take a taxi to my dorm. On my way there, someone elbows me by accident. “Watch where you’re going, person! Wait…” 

She turns her freckled face to me. “Lily-hi! Uhm so-” 

Words tumble out of my mouth, tripping and falling like a bike wheel on cobblestone road. “Abby, I wanted to- sorry, I mean, no, I was wrong- but I didn’t want to, the- urm- outgrowing stuff…. And I really- wait, I mean- I’ve always wanted to say sorry to you.” 

The seemingly incessant silence is broken by her “I’m glad that you’re here.”