With Friends Like These
Kimberly Diaz
Word Count 852
I was thirteen years old. My friend Laura, also thirteen, lived across the street from me. She was Italian, Catholic, serious. Every day she’d have her hair pulled back in a no- nonsense ponytail. Always she wore a gold cross on a chain necklace, plain skirts and blouses and shiny patent leather pumps with low heels. She looked like she was heading to work in an office or something. I was a goofy WASPy atheist with wild wavy hair wearing bell bottoms and t-shirts (with sayings of like If It Feels Good, Do It) and always clogs on my feet. Despite our differences, we were friends. Location, location, location. It’s not just a thing in real estate.
She was the one I walked to the bus stop with five days a week when it was still dark out. The one I sat next to on the bus as we rode to school but once we’d arrived, we went our separate ways. I was in a high-level English class and a low-level math class—Fraction Action it was called. She was in Algebra II and just the regular English class. We didn’t hang out that much after school. Still, we could count on each other. We were friends.
Then came Dawn. She moved into the house two doors down from mine and was also our age. Also Italian and Catholic. She had a house with an indoor pool which intrigued me since mine was outside. There was just one problem. Laura didn’t want to make friends with Dawn (even though they had so much in common) because she had very hairy arms. I thought Laura was being ridiculous and went over to welcome Dawn to the neighborhood.
Dawn was friendly and had a ton of Tiger Beat magazines. She also had a French Provincial bedroom set, white with gold trim, a canopy over her DOUBLE bed. A vanity with a mirror. I envied her. I had my own room but just a boring twin bed with a plain blanket and a Danish modern dresser that my mom thought was cool, but I thought was ugly.
We hung out in Dawn’s room for a long time reading Tiger Beats. We both had a crush on David Cassidy. I think I love you. Yes, we did! After that, Dawn invited me to go swimming, so I rushed home, grabbed my two-piece and we had a blast splashing around in her pool although I realized that I liked my outdoor pool better than her indoor one.
The next day, I told Laura how cool Dawn was (even though she did have a lot of long, black hairs on her arms) and Laura decided to give our new neighbor a chance. We all walked to the bus stop together and rode on the bus together three to a seat. Dawn wasn’t in my high- level English class or my Fraction Action math class. Maybe she had classes with Laura, but I never found out because after just a few days we stopped walking together. I left at my normal time in the morning but when I got to the bus stop,
Laura and Dawn were already there, chatting away. “Good morning,” I said, but they ignored me. On the bus they sat together but put their books and things on the seat so there wasn’t room for me. I tried not to cry as I made my way down the aisle asking some random kid if I could sit next to him. After school, it was the same thing. They sat together and ignored me. Walking home, they wouldn’t even make eye contact. This continued for a couple of weeks and every day after school; I’d run to my room and just wail. I couldn’t believe how mean they were being to me.
My mom felt bad for me (for once) and started inviting me to go with her when she went to the grocery store or shopping. One afternoon, we were at J. Byron’s. She was in a dressing room trying on clothes for a trip she and my dad would be taking soon, and I was wandering around the store. I passed by the Maternity department and noticed a big box with a “Win a Year of Free Diaper Service” sign on it. I peeled off one of entry forms, wrote Laura’s name and phone number on it and stuck it in the box. I didn’t think she’d actually win! I guess I was the prime suspect because afterward Laura’s mom came by to have a talk with my mom. I was in the other room, watching an afterschool special and couldn’t hear what they were saying but through the crack in the door I could see Laura’s mom looking over at me the whole time.
The next day, Laura and Dawn rang my doorbell. They apologized for being mean to me and said they wanted to be friends again. I said, “No, thanks,” and softly, but firmly, closed the door in their faces.
Kimberly is a survivor of two marriages trying to stay sane in the crazy state of Florida. Her work has appeared in Another Chicago Magazine, Entropy, Montana Mouthful, Sunspot Literary, Dead Mule School of Southern Literature and other lit mags, and anthologies. She’s currently working on an essay collection and a memoir.