when you met me

life

life

The bridge felt cold on the backs of her legs. She sucked in a sharp breath and stared down at the grey, freezing waters. Would it hurt if she jumped? Would she die straight away? Or drown slowly? Mara swung her legs on the edge, the back of her shoes hitting the metal underneath of the bridge. She leaned further forward.

“Ice cream?” A boy asked as he climbed over the railing after her. Mara smiled and took the ice cream with strawberry drizzle and a flake. Just like how she’d always had it. And this was what they had always done. After school, sitting on the edge of the bridge with sweets or ice cream or maybe just crisps. It depended on how much money they had.

“Thanks, Dud.” Mara said as she took a lick. The boy’s name was Asher Dudley, who, as soon as he entered the cruel world of school, was promptly nicknamed Dud. He was not stupid. In fact, he was quite smart. He argued, every day since then, that he could have had a much cooler nickname. Ash, perhaps. He cursed his sir name.

Even Mara called him Dud, though she knew him before such a nickname was ever invented. Yes, they both lived in the same estate, across the tree lined road from each other. Since Mara was two and was fostered by her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Turner. Mara could not go a single day without complaining about how overbearing her parents were. And if they weren’t overbearing, they weren’t home. Which was quite a bit of the time.

Dud, on the other hand, never complained about his Dad. Though his Dad, was a creature incapable of being impressed. Dudley got steady marks in school. He kept out of trouble. Well… He did have a most curious issue with interfering in fights. He had a strong sense of justice, and couldn’t stand to watch an innocent getting beaten up. This usually just left him with a bruised face and no victory.

After the first few times, Mara had come up with a plan to scout out areas where a fight was brewing and tried to keep Dud on the other side of the school. But even knowing that it was happening was too much for him to handle. Dud’s Dad never bought the stories of heroism, due to his sons’ glasses (that he insisted he only needed to wear when reading) and his quiet demeanor. Dudley getting ‘bullied’ at school did not impress his Dad, and yet his Dad did nothing to stop it.

Dud put his big glasses in his rucksack. “I wish you’d just admit you needed them all the time.” Mara sighed. “I don’t.” Dud responded, scratching his wavy brown hair. Dud could pull off glasses, in the real world. That is, the world outside of school. His glasses amplified his bright green eyes.

Mara, on the other hand, had a vaguely East Asian appearance. A warm skin tone with big brown eyes and hair that did everything at once. It was curly and straight, long and short, tied up and cascading over her shoulders. Though she would never know where she came from, and as curious as Dud knew he would be, she was not.

“A girl called me ‘soft spoken’ today.” Dud conversed as they walked back from the bridge and towards their estate. “That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re too quiet.” Mara stated, in her role as all-knowing female. Dud sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Oh, well,” He lamented, “Maybe college girls are nicer and easier to read.” He shrugged.

“Don’t count on it.” Mara replied bluntly. Bluntness was in her nature only when it was called for.

“Now come on, we have homework to do.” Dud smiled, walking towards her flat. They both lived on the bottom floors of their respective flats, but Dud would bet money his Dad would be home at four sharp, and Mara’s parents probably wouldn’t be home at all.

They sat in her room. Dud had always been curious about her room, from their first playdate. It was constantly changing, evolving. This year, it had stayed the same colour, but slowly, her poster collection had built up. All of bands. Musicians. They lined her walls, and she saved her favourites for her ceiling.

Mara laid on her bed now, to take in her posters for a moment, appreciating them like they deserved, in her mind, before she could start their homework. Dud sat on the foot of her bed, pushing her legs over to make room for his bag. He crossed his legs, put on his black, square rimmed glasses, and looked up at the ceiling too.

“What do you think that’s like?” Mara asked, “A different crowd every night, cheering because you’re there. Your lyrics, your voice, means something to them. How connected must you feel to thousands of people?” Dud couldn’t see it himself, but continued to study the posters, to see what she was so captivated with. “Remember when we went to that concert last month?” She inquired, getting up on her elbows.

“You mean when we illegally broke into one? Yeah.” He answered, still feeling off about it. Mara rolled her eyes elaborately. “Everything’s about legal and illegal with you.” She sighed.

“Well, I want to be a policeman, remember?” He prodded. “I should be doing good things.” Mara nodded, it did make sense with his strong sense of right and wrong. Justice and all that. It fit his personality. It just didn’t fit… Well- him. His body. Dud wasn’t out of shape but he wasn’t buffed up like how Mara imagined policeman should be.

“Right.” She said, knowing when not to be blunt with Dud. Dud squinted his eyes at his friend, but let go of the twinge of sarcasm he heard in her voice. “You still haven’t decided on a job field.” He said as he kneed her leg to attention. Mara shrugged. “In the traditional sense, ‘jobs’ don’t appeal to me. I’ll figure it out later.” She laughed.

“You do realize this is our last week at school, right?” Dud poked, “Unless you WANT to stay another year.” Mara grimaced at the thought. The real world, as scary as it was, seemed a whole lot more interesting and fun than the world of school.

“So, where are your parents today?” Dud asked, halfway through their homework. Mara stopped chewing her pencil. “Mum’s gone to get Dad. They’re probably fighting now. ‘Where have you been’ ‘Oh please, Carol, please forgive me, I’m so stupid and I love you and our little adoptee, please give me another chance, I promise I’ll change’. Their fights never last long once he starts begging.”

Dud often thought back to one of the very first conversations he could remember having with Mara. She started it off with ‘I’m adopted’. But that wasn’t the point. When they were four, at Mara’s house, Dud was already bent on becoming a policeman. And when asked what she would be when she grew up, Mara quite proudly said, ‘A singer’.

He wondered if Mara remembered that or if it was just him. It was funny though, that all this time later, she still, deep down, wanted the same thing. “So they’ll be back soon?” Dud asked. Mara shrugged again and stretched. “Want something to drink?” She asked.