Creative Mélange The Wander Issue | Page 66

Sept ember 17t h, 2015 Dear Diary, Today was an absolut e mess. Early this afternoon, I was reading Walt Whitman?s poetry collect ion by t he window in my room (which is in t he far back room on t he first floor by t he way) when I saw t hat uniformed girl come home from school. I was st aring at t he folds in her skirt , and I guess she could feel someone st aring, because she swivelled around and st ared st raight at me. I panicked when she did, because I don?t know if it ?s okay for people t o observe ot hers like t hat , and I immediat ely pret ended t o be really int erest ed in my book. W hile I was looking down, I was hoping she would hurry up and go home, but inst ead I heard a few dull knocks on t he t hick glass of my window, and when I looked up, she was right t here, her face pressed right up against t he glass. She gest ured in a ?come out ,? sort of way, so I creaked open t he window. ?Hey,? she said. ?You?re around my age, I t hink. W hat are you, like, eleven? Twelve?? ?Twelve,? I answered. I was surprised how squeaky my voice came out . ?Good, my age exactly.? She smiled. She sounded so confident, like an adult. ?Wanna come out and ride bikes with me?? ?I don?t have a bike,? I said. I felt anxiet y bubble up. She doesn?t know me, how could she just ask me t o hang out wit h her like t hat ? ?You can borrow my brot her?s,? she said. I t sounded more like an order t han a suggest ion. ?I don?t know how t o ride.? ?Gosh, I?ll teach you,? she sighed wit h exasperat ion. ?Come out and we?ll have fun.? 67 66 I was about t o comment on how I t hought t here was no way my mom would let me, but t hen I realized she might think that was weird, and t hat it had not hing t o do wit h her. Or worse, she might t hink I was making up excuses because I just didn?t want t o play wit h her. But I did. So I paused for a while, and t hough my heart was racing just at t he prospect of going out , I pret ended t o be cool and casual and said I ?d ask my mom. Wit h each st ep t owards t he living room my mom was in, I kept daydreaming. How fun it would be, t o glide across t he pavement in a bike for god?s sake. Wit h a friend! I wasn?t even t hinking clearly. I was way t oo jumpy. Now t hat I t hink about it , who was I kidding?