ELEVEN

Clearly.
I find him rather boorish.
"You not my type... Yeah, Michael told us your ass loose."
If he doesn't stop drizzling saliva every time he shouts at the poor girl, I swear, by the time he leaves, the floor will be slippery which is good news, at least for me. I'm hoping I slip and fall, hit my head hard against the wall. Not enough to cause injuries but enough for me to pass out. Hell, I'd even welcome death if it means getting out of this... date.
Oh, how I wish for a family emergency. For Daniel. Where is he anyway? I haven't seen him since lunch.
My eyes sweep the hallways for him. He's not here but the emergency exit is just, what, three — four steps away? If I run fast enough, Stevin won't notice. He is a wildfire now, I swear the flames are coming off his eyes. The petite girl is holding her ground. She's lecturing him about good personal hygiene. This the crowds find hilarious.
I ghost towards the emergency doors. Stevin is still so absorbed in the verbal fight he's forgotten about me. Once outside I sigh in relief. Telling my father not to fetch me was the biggest mistake. I'll have to walk more than ten miles. I'm not known for my athletic abilities.
I stumble in the muddy trail that cuts through the woods from my school to my house. I'd never used this route before, even though it is safe and the other kids use it frequently. Papa refuses. He's constantly in fear of something. Even though I sometimes walk to and from work (gasp), Papa still gets paranoid about me walking from school. With how small our neighborhood is it's no surprise that we live on top of each other. In my entire life, I've never been approached nor have I ever met a stranger — I was raised in a bubble, mind you , so I guess that explains itself.
Papa often cities his reasons not on potential predators, but on traffic. To get home I have to cut through the forest and cross a super busy intersection. Even in our relatively quiet residential neighborhood, there are drivers who operate their vehicles with no regard whatsoever for pedestrians or cyclists.
Okoh Crowe, the neighbours only child has somehow managed to meander next to me. She's walking so close, our shoulders actually touch. She's the fisherman's kid. Tried to teach me to bait a line twice when I was much younger. They named her Okoh, which is Hook carefully worded, because their family is the best in town (how original). She keeps staring at me and giving me meaningful glances.
What did these mean?
I want to talk to her to distract her from looking at me. I can't muster the courage to apologize for masking her eyes with so much mascara that she looked like a surprised raccoon instead of smokey eyed. So what if we were barely fourteen then? The bloody idiots from our last school laughed at her until they toppled over and tears brewed on their eyes. Someone even took a picture of her. It pops up every now and then. She never spoke to me again after that. I apologised a hundred and twenty-seven times (and yes, I was counting). I can't even bring myself to utter a greeting. I'm too ashamed. She was my best friend. The one person who truly "got me", or maybe not.
When she isn't looking I steal a quick glance at her. I'm proud of her. While I still look like an improper fraction, she has somehow managed to melt off at least half her weight. Those perfect round pair of tits must've cost her a fortune.
We continue to walk together in silence. She is shy, too, or maybe she just has nothing to say or can't bear listening to the fumblings of a girl who unintentionally embarrassed her in middle school.
We walk until we come upon a meadow. I stop, and she frowns, stopping too. She'd seen it before, that is the only explanation for her indifference to the place.
It is the loveliest place I'd ever seen. It looks like it has been cut from the pages of a fairytale book, in fact I am certain that if fairies exist, this meadow is their hideout. There is a forest on either side of it. The grass is lush and springy and if I were to sit down, it'd cover me completely. A small round section on the middle has an array of flowers and wild plants. The mountains in the distance are white and fluffy with a canopy of snow. A gleaming river runs alongside one length of the meadow and catches the reflections of the mysterious small animals.
It looks like someone has thrown fairy dust into the river and the water has caught them so that they float and gleam with each ray of sunlight that points down..
She picks up strawberries as we walk. Once we've crossed the intersection she hands me a handful. I pick at them as we walk through the maze of houses, I stare at her watching the sky. It begins drizzling, not enough to soak through. The drops of rain beat against the smoothness of her skin with a mesmerising enchantment.
She takes my hand, and we run down the street until we come to a stop where the main road into town starts. This is just like old times. Where we'd abandon everything to go watch the sea when it rained. I'm surprised that distance and time hasn't change anything between us.
"I'll race you," Okoh says. "Last one there will pay for lunch."
"We should first go home to get some umbrellas," I say. "It sure looks like it'll rain harder within an hour."
Instead of running for cover like I want to (I hate the rain), Okoh's lips curve into the most delicate smile. "Naw, girlfriend, that'll ruin the experience."
Girlfriend, I note, she'd always called me that.
"Don't tell me we're going to play in the mud, again." I sigh. "Hook, we aren't kids anymore."
She looks around, frantic and rams her fists into her waist. Her eyes roll twice into their sockets. Okoh hates being called hook. Though she'd always secretly loved it when I did. She hasn't lost her dramatic flare one notch.
"Of course not. I know how much you don't like that. You might as well be a dog "
She tugs at my hand and we cross the road into the forest and walk for about a mile or two until we come upon the north side of beach front.