Thursday, January 11, 2007

The port o potty story
It belongs to my best friend, Sarah-onee-san.....I decied since she's a better writer to write the port o potty story

The sky is brilliant and the sun is blazing. I sit in the sunshine, my dark hair whipping around me in the wind. My Math homework sits before me, finished, with the corners constantly being blown. The beautiful weather is taunting me; my soul is aching and although it is such a nice day, inside my heart it is raining.

I twirl a sterling silver locket between my fingers and a deep sigh whispers through my lips.

“What will happen next?” I wonder aloud. She loves him…Linda loves Joey…I still can’t believe it or accept it; maybe I just don’t want to. Using the fingernail on my index finger, I open the locket and with silent tears in my eyes, I gaze at the photograph within. She’s so beautiful…her golden hair shining like the sun above me today, her crystal-clear, sky-blue eyes as entrancing as the shockingly vivid sky. I love her. I truly do. Not only because she is so lovely, but because she is also intelligent, friendly, lovable, sensitive, caring, unique and simply the most amazing individual that I have ever had the luck to meet. Now she is slipping away from me and there is nothing I can do. I hope Joey can make her happy, but if he hurts her, so help me God, I will make the remainder of his life a living hell. It is bad enough that he hurt me all the times that he did, but he ought to do nothing but make Linda untroubled from now on.

“Sarah!” I heard two happy, gleeful voices shouting. I looked up just in time to have all of the wind knocked out of me by an over-enthusiastic hug (aka, glomp.) I closed the locket and it shut with a snap.

“Hi, Sarah!” My friend Mary exclaimed with an excited wave. She then pulled the other girl, Alisha off of me, “Look! Look, it’s Kenney!” She thrust her arm out and pointed at the boy she liked, Kenney Sills, as he and the rest of the Track and Field team ran three laps.

“What’s wrong, Na-no-da?” Alisha asked inquisitively, using one of my nicknames. Alisha had pale skin, tawny hair, blue eyes, braces and an infectious laugh and smile. Alisha had gotten brain damage when she was really small, but that hardly had any effect on our friendship. It was her cheerfulness, optimism, cleverness, outspokenness and friendliness that draw us together. Alisha is very original, for example, she has strange nicknames for all of her friends, she calls reading to ‘swee’, she calls hugging ‘glomping’ and she uses the small phrases of Japanese that she knows even when there is no reason to.

“Whaddya think is wrong?” I asked her, sounding a little irritated.

“Oh, Linda and Joey-kun? C’mon, Sarah-Chan, I know what’ll make you feel a little better.” Alisha jumped back, readying herself to perform. She cleared her throat loudly, “Oooooooooh! I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner! Yes, that is what I’d truly like to be…” I couldn’t help but smile as Alisha walked like an Egyptian, discoed, Bunny-Hopped and did the twist in about 30 seconds flat.

Mary and I found ourselves singing along and laughing. Mary had straight, nut-brown hair, a narrow face, greyish eyes and a longing to be loved quite like mine. Mary was a total romantic and she, like I, wanted desperately to be cared for. Kenney didn’t return her affection and she didn’t know how to make him understand the depth of her devotion. Then she stopped laughing, “Where’s Kenney?

Alisha shrugged and I said that I didn’t know. Mary gave a sad little whine, “Kenney!”

“Maybe he’s in da’ Porto-Potty!” Alisha said humorously, “Want me to go see?’

“Huh?” Mary said, bewildered by Alisha’s offer.

“I’ll go check!” Alisha began running down the hill to where the portable toilets were.

“Did she just say that she would check?” Mary asked me.

“I think so.”

“Hey look there he is!” Mary said, pointing happily, “He just took off his sweatshirt so we didn’t see him.”

“Oh. What about Alisha?” we looked down the slope where our friend was knocking on the wall of the toilet.

“Oh my GOD! What is wrong with that girl?!” Mary cried.

The door opened and a kid looked out. Alisha hid. The door closed and she threw herself against it. Another boy from the lacrosse team heard the banging and he came to see what it was. The kid who was trying to go to the bathroom came out again. He saw the lacrosse-player and he pushed him thinking that he was the culprit, but he pointed at Alisha who then pointed somewhere towards the field. She ran back up to us giggling uncontrollably.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Mary said, “Who did you say did it?”

“Kenney.”

“What!” Mary shouted, “Nice!” She hugged Alisha.

“Yay! Glompy glompy glompy glomp glomp a googa glomp!” Alisha chanted, “Glompy glomp da’ Sarah!” She pulled me into the hug too, hitting my head and Mary’s together by accident.

“Ouch.” I rubbed my head, but I was smiling. My sadness had melted away and I was so thankful that my friends had come and swept me out of the pit of despair and self-pity that I was wallowing in before.

People you love may stab you in the heart

People that you call your friends will stab you in the back

But the people that are you’re real friends won’t stab you at all

Because they don’t even carry knives.


Comments (4)