Piece Seven

Let's move away from the library for a few days.

My first friend at the new school was a girl my mother nearly tackled because her locker was in the same bank as mine. Surely, she thought we were insane. Surely, her mother was having an inner panic attack at these two strange people asking about the school in the almost empty hallway.
Luckily, that didn't stop the girl from befriending me then and there. She compared our schedules (inside, I was marveling at how much of a pro she was) and declared we had second period social studies and eighth period literature together. On the first day of school--oh, how pale and stressed I must have looked! I was terrified!--she did not let me down. As soon as she saw me in our second period class room, she started a conversation. Explained where we would meet to go to lunch so we could sit together and so I could meet "T."
I never imagined someone could be so unconditionally nice. It was surreal.
Meeting her best friend "T" made me feel like I was part of something. Sure, it was just the three of us, basking in our awkwardness, laughing at silly things that were only funny because nothing else really was. But there was a connection. A bonding. A "we are in this together" kind of feeling.
One of my regrets is losing contact with her. "H" made my life by being such a great, outta nowhere friend. Without her hospitality, I have no idea what I would have, could have ever done. My mind cannot wrap around the idea of not having her help in my adjusting.
Losing touch with "T" is also a regret. I remember her as very real--very real for even overly honest 7th graders--and kind. She didn't hold any outward grudges against me for latching onto her friendship.
Both of these girls are alive in my memories. Hopefully I'll get the courage to find them again.

More on friendship--especially with honest, brash, lively folk--tomorrow.