second time around // zedd

Humble Beginnings and Horrible Endings

Monday, October 14th, 1996.

Berlin, Germany.

I was only six years old, and I had already had a lonely childhood up to this point. I had recently moved from Copenhagen to Berlin, and back home, I never made any friends. I was almost certain that it would be the same here. I had lived with my parents and aunt who spoke fluent German, and I was able to catch on very quickly. If it wasn't my language problem, what on earth was driving people away from me? I was a nice little girl, so I didn't understand.

Today had marked the first day I had begun to go to German school. As an uncanny result of my shyness, I did not speak when the teacher had called me to the front of the class to introduce myself. (I had spoken after a while, when my face had started to go from pale to its normal colour, and my hands relieved from sweat. ) Until I felt comfortable enough to speak, my teacher introduced me to the class.

"This is Rose Schwartz," My teacher said. "She recently moved here from Copenhagen, in Denmark. Please be nice to her, as she is very shy." (Clearly, she didn't say it in English. I'm translating it so that you may find it easier to understand.) I sat down quietly, re-tied one of my two golden braids, and looked down. Hopefully I would never have to endure that kind of embarrassing pain again.

Before I knew it, the time for recess and lunch came. I took the brown paper bag lunch my mother provided me that morning and headed outside onto the school playground. I had passed the jungle gym and slides and swing sets and sat shyly onto the side bench. I took out the unattractive tuna sandwich and began eating, hoping quietly that none of it spilled onto my pink frilly dress. I had eaten for about 15 minutes when I saw that a little boy, about my age, had been staring at me. I blushed and looked down. I saw from the small glance that the boy had sandy brown hair and was dressed very neatly. My 6-year-old mind had thought he looked amazing. The boy quickly came over to the bench where I was seated and sat next to me. I tried to suppress a smile, but had failed terribly. "Hi," the boy said. "You look sad."

"I'm not sad," I said. "I'm new here. I don't have any friends yet."

The boy smiled a triumphant smile and said happily, "That's awesome. I get to be your very first friend."

I giggled. "What's your name?"

"My name is Anton. What's yours?"

I had taken it he hadn't been in my class earlier when I regretfully was introduced. "My name is Rose." I pulled out a shiny red apple from my disposable lunch bag, before Anton had predictably snatched it from my grasp. "Hey!" I interjected. "That was mine!"

"Since we're gonna be best friends, it's mine now," He said, smiling slyly before taking a bite of my apple.

I folded my arms. "That's no fair. Some friend you are!" I said, turning my head and pouting like the spoiled brat I was. Anton looked concerned, looked to the apple, then looked at me, and repeated that process twice before handing me the apple and saying, "Here. It was yours first. I'm sorry."

I turned my head back into his direction, and took the apple back. "Thank you," I said.

"Where are you from?"

"Copenhagen, in Denmark."

"No way!" He said, legitimately surprised. "So is your dad like, a viking or something?"

"I...I don't know," I said. "I hope he is. He's strong like one."

"You are so awesome, Rose!" He shouted, hugging me. "We're gonna be such great friends, I can tell!"

I giggled, and hugged him back. "I know, Anton."

Anton was right. From that moment on, the two of us were practically inseperable, literally like Bonnie and Clyde minus the crime. Plus we were children. Every time I was picked on for something, he would come and stand up for me. We had been over each other's homes hundreds of times, and for a while, I felt as if he was my other half. He had been my first best friend, and he always stuck by me. For six more years, while we were both in Germany, we stuck together like we couldn't live without each other, not to mention my parents loved him to death. They saw him as if he was the son they never had, a result of me being an only child. We all went to Rome every single summer, and we really didn't need any other friends beside each other. That's how compatible we were as kids. I never wanted him to leave my side...and while he could, he never did.