COMMON ROOM: A Short Story Anthology

Mixed Messages by Reza (Wattpad username: MakeMeSwoon)

MIXED MESSAGES

by Reza (Wattpad username: MakeMeSwoon)

Mentor: Jen Brooks, author of IN A WORLD JUST RIGHT, releasing April 28, 2015, from Simon & Schuster for Young Readers

*** 

The fact was that even though we’d spent most of our childhood together, I’d known nothing about what Roan was going through. It seemed like I spent my childhood looking through rose-coloured glasses.

            No wonder he ignored my confession, I thought, tightening my hold around the conference flyer.

“With keynote speaker Roan Bach,” it read near the bottom.I looked up toward the stage again, trying to see if he’d meet my gaze at least once during his presentation. 

            I inhaled deeply. That’s such a stupid move, Alyssa. What would you do if he meets your eyes? What if he recognizes you? What would you say? Or, what if he doesn’t remember you? I shook my head. Of course, he’d remember me. That’s silly. We were best friends. But would he want to remember me?

            I glanced around and saw an old classmate of mine from middle school and a teacher. A few of Roan’s neighbours also showed up to the Hear Me, See Me, Speak Out conference.

            I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t recognize Roan. Not because they wouldn’t remember him, but because the timid boy who hid behind books was gone. He had changed into a charismatic keynote speaker in just five years.

            And the worst part was, the more I listened to his presentation, the more I began to realise the only childhood memory we had in common was our names. The boy on the stage talked only about his struggles.

            The way I remembered him was so much different. 

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When we were younger, Roan never liked to cover his ears. Not even if they were stiff red from the frosty winter air. I always thought it was his attempt to rebel against his overprotective mother and to prove that he could take care of himself. Sometimes, I’d manage to sneak him away from his mother and find us a hiding place.

  There, I’d put one of the earbuds of my sister’s old MP3 player in one of his ears and talk to him in a hushed voice in his other ear. The things I told him were things I’d never tell anyone else. In return, he’d listen attentively, studying my over-exaggerated expressions and flushed red cheeks.

            Afterward he’d tell me about the stories he had read. He would be so lost in retelling them that his hands would dance in the air as if they were the ones narrating instead. We never had a moment of silence when it was just the two of us.

Even though years have passed since those days, I can still feel the way Roan would attempt to defrost my fingers by cupping them between his mitted hands. How heartwarming it was to see his cheeky smile creep out of his wool scarf.

            At school, it was a different story. Roan liked working solo and spending his time with books. When it came to working with others, he’d space out. I always figured that he was shy. I tried to get him out of his comfort zone when we got older by getting him to join clubs, but he didn’t like that very much, and for some time, he avoided me.

             However, even when he was keeping his distance, he always had my back. If I messed up and got the whole class laughing at my idiotic answer or a presentation where my nerves got the better of me, Roan would distract them. When I lost my lucky key chain, he spent the whole day with me looking for it, and when we couldn’t find it, he bought me a new one. It wasn’t exactly like the original, but it was the thought that counted.