It is true that we’re very different. Even in elementary school, I was shy and quiet and my teachers loved me. Sammie, on the other hand, was loud and bold and was always getting yellow and red cards for talking during class. But she made me giggle, and I can’t remember a day when we weren’t together. When I was with her, I wasn’t shy anymore. When I was with her, I could be myself. When I was with her, I laughed.
By the time we got to middle school, there were some times I felt like I could hardly keep up with her inspired schemes. She ran barefoot in the snow. She cooked small pieces of aluminum foil in her aunt’s microwave to watch the fires ignite. She once downed two cans of Coca-Cola in under two minutes and then proceeded to burp the entire “Star-Spangled Banner” for my amusement alone. We were polar opposites, but she still kept me around, maybe because I laughed.
She’s also brilliant. I mean, her dad was an English teacher at our high school. And, thanks to him, we both love to read, and that’s part of what we can spend hours bonding over. It’s part of what I love about her.
I’ve always looked up to Sammie and was especially in awe of her ability to flirt. We both developed at the same time, earlier than the other girls in our class. At that time, I felt incredibly self-conscious about my broad shoulders and large chest, my thick hips and thighs, which never fit into any pants at places like Urban Outfitters. Sammie and I are built similarly, and she says it’s because “we come from people who love to eat.” But it never seemed to bother her that we’re substantially bigger than the other girls, and so eventually she taught me to feel the same. She’s also photogenic, with a heart-shaped face and thick black hair that cascades down her back. She’s mastered the art of the selfie. She’s figured out how to shop. She likes clothes. Clothes like her.
So, I was sure she’d be the one to get a boyfriend first.
We both were.
When we got to high school, she made lists of the guys she thought were cute, while I made lists of colleges, with help from my dad. Not just one list. Lists. It didn’t matter what year they were, how old they were, if they were athletic or dorky, some brooding senior, full of angst, or some scrawny freshman who smiled nicely. She flirted with them all. And they all seemed to want to flirt back.
But I don’t know. Nothing ever happened. She went out on a few dates, but nothing ever stuck. Maybe it’s because her dad was a teacher at our school, and they were too afraid to go for her.
You can imagine our mutual shock when Dean and I got together.
“So that’s why you take all these ridiculously hard classes?” she said when I called her up to tell her the news. “So you can hook up with other nerds?”
“No. It’s so I can learn more and get into a good college.”
“Where you’ll undoubtedly hook up with more nerds, marry one glorious supernerd, and then proceed to have cute little nerd babies.”
“You know, you’re a supernerd, too, or you wouldn’t be at Uni.”
“Thanks, but you know I’m at Uni because of my dad.” Uni Lab High is a college prep school associated with the local university, and you have to pass a test to get in.
“That’s not true, so stop it,” I said. “Anyway, don’t doom me to a future of matrimony, old age, and death. Maybe I don’t want to get married. Maybe I want to live on my own, be by myself, do my own thing. Maybe I don’t want to have kids.” I thought about my sister, how much work she was when she was a baby, and how I’ve already helped raise one.
“Maybe you want to grow old alone, surrounded by dozens of feral cats?”
“Yes,” I said. “Maybe.”
“Just promise me you’ll always love me, even though I’ll never be as smart as you.”
“Stop saying you’re not smart.” I hate it when she puts herself down. Sammie’s one of the smartest, funniest people I know, but she likes to do this self-deprecating thing, and it makes me crazy.
“Just say you’ll love me forever,” she said. “And that you’ll let me be the godmother to your cute little nerd babies.”
“You know I’ll love you forever. And if I choose not to have babies, you can help me take care of my twenty-six cats.”
“I’m not scooping the crap of twenty-six cats out of your litter boxes.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll love you anyway. I’ll always love you, Sammie.”
And I always will.
She’s the only one who didn’t judge me when my ex-boyfriend spread that photo of me around school. Once upon a time, I had a decent supply of friends. Sammie had always been my true one and only, but we also were open to being social with the other kids in our class. Uni High is relatively small, so a scandal like the one I got myself into is big news.