Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

21

Of course, that wouldn't solve all of my problems. What could? But a little bit of the pressure was taken off after that night. My mom came downstairs the next day to find me asleep on the couch, hugging my arms, and apparently decided not to wake me up and inform me of how stupid I looked. Thanks, mom.

But the following week, when I went to school, things seemed a little brighter. I didn't listen to people as much when they called me annoying, or a dick, or whatever. Sure, I still heard it and it didn't feel that great. But I didn't listen. I knew there was at least one person who didn't see me that way, and surprisingly that was all I needed to know to lift my spirits just a little bit.

Meghan seemed to notice a couple days later during lunch, when I sat at her table again.

"You look happy."

"Eh, I don't know about happy. Just...less sad." I rested my chin in my palm and gazed behind her at some poster on the wall for some student-run club that nobody seemed to care about. She hesitated.

"Which is...good, right?"

I gave her an odd look. "What do you mean? Of course that's good."

"I know, it's just...some people prefer to be sad. I've met 'em. Not real fun people to be around, but que sera, sera. Y'know?"

"I guess."

Meghan Flores was a funny one. She was just about your stereotypical high school geek; you could smell the 711 soda on her, and having headgear and a lisp didn't help her image much. But she was one of the smartest and surprisingly most insightful people I knew, and pretty open-minded as well.

It was no wonder she was just another one of the rejects of the school.

Eventually, my mind wandered to something more troubling. No matter how much he told me...

"Meg, what would you do if somebody kept telling you that you're not a bad person, but you still don't believe it?"

She looked taken aback. "Oh. Um, Ave, you know lunch only started five minutes ago..."

I sighed. "I know. It's just been bothering me for a while. Wanted to get an opinion from, like, the most honest person I know."

"Aw, you couldn't be more wrong, but thanks. I guess...well, this probably isn't what someone giving advice would want to say, but I'd probably just keep it inside, to be honest. I know that's not what you want to hear—"

"No, I get it. That's what I'd do too. But it doesn't help. Maybe just...forget I said that. Okay?"

"Uh, okay. Do you have Ms. Henderson?"

"Yeah, why?"

The rest of lunch proceeded as usual, and I got no real answers for the rest of the day.

—

After checking to see that my mom wasn't home yet, I half-yelled my usual greeting to Ben.

"What's up, nerd."

Five seconds passed.

"What's up with you, douche," I heard muffled from upstairs. I gave in and smiled. He still remembers the first thing I officially said to him.

"What are you doing upstairs?"

"I got bored. You know, the only two places I really go in this house are the living room and your bedroom. It was bound to happen that I take a nice stroll even further up and find some of your childhood stuff..."

"What? No way."

I'd set down my bag on an armchair in the kitchen, about to grab a snack, but that could wait. Discoveries were being made. I rushed upstairs to the attic to find Ben crouched curiously over a cardboard box with something that resembled a moon lamp barely poking out.