ELLIOT JUST KNOWS HOW TO LAUGH. And it annoys the fuck out of me when she is laughing at my misery. I could imagine her sitting on her broke, hand-me-down-for-two-generations, black chair. The force of her uncontrollable laughter would make her rock the chair and let her eyes flash before her eyes. Her short hairs all over her face, phone pressed against her cheek because her earphones are way too tangled to be solved any time soon. Her dimples appeared beside her smile as her long hot pink nails scratched her cheekbones lightly. She has a birthmark just above her lips that stretches a little being even more beautiful.
Turns out that is what someone who wrote her a love letter thinks about her.
I gag on the phone, she laughs again.
"Please, I beg you to stop. Now, every time you laugh, I think about that creepy and weird letter, my fuck. What is this the eighties? Are you trying to persuade my best friend by a cheap ass love letter that sounds like a stalker wrote? Honey, no! This is the girl who breaks into her parent's wine cellar in the middle of the night just to taste every single drink there. You gotta do more than that, brother. By the way, brother as in gender-neutral."
"Fuck, Avery. This was so wild. And what there's more—"
"Do not do this to me Elliot Bridges. I will slap you through the phone, I will murder you in your toilet. When you are pooping—"
"Ew, what the fuck?"
"Shut up, it is not as weird as the letter. But imagine your gravestone. Elliot Bridges, death during pooping. Now a friendly ghost."
"Wow, classy. Avery Ramos, death due to making lame jokes. Was a hoe, who knows about the afterlife. A hoe in hell, too."
"I love you how you know me. Hoe in the womb, the hoe on earth and continuing the hoe legacy after life. The king of all hoes."
"The king of hoes and killing people in the bathroom."
"When they are pooping."
"Ew, fuck off, Avery. I am ending the call."
"You will miss my voice, and tell me the rest of it! I want to know the meme material of the week."
She sighed, "Okay, but shut up until I complete it."
"Zip shut."
"I really like the way you completely dissolve yourself into music. Your laugh in heaven, and I do not want to breathe again because you are taking it away. At first sight, I thought you were beautiful and cute. I feel like I am floating when I talk to you. I know we are just classmates, but would you like to go on a date with me?"
"Wow, that is some serious eighth grade shit right there. I am sobbing on the fact why you have not blocked this person yet."
"That person gave me a letter, Avery."
"Right. Did they sign off their name or anything? Like how are you supposed to respond to this person."
"No, nothing. It has literally nothing. No name, address."
"Woah, that person did not think this through or they thought this through really well. Hmm, what are you going to do about it?"
"Ignore it as usual. No point in finding out who there might be."
I nod, "So you mean I should track down the person. Sweet. On to the job Captain Bridges."
"And tell me about this Kamil Qureshi thing. Isn't he like your teammate? What even happened at the match?"
"Not much, actually. He might play lacrosse with me, but he thinks he owns the entire team. I admit I did not pass him the ball and we lost the match but—"
"So, it was your fault."
"But I am the captain, Elliot. I need to make one goal."
"Look, Avery. Everyone knows you are the captain but that does not mean that the rest of the team is useless—"
"But—"
"Listen to me, first. Your only job is to win the match and work together as a team. Not as an individual. If you play just as yourself, you might win the battle, but you will lose the war. This means that the coach can take your position or they will kick you out."
I sigh, "You are right, and I hate it."
She laughed.
"Ah, yes. The famous laugh of Elliot Bridges."
"Fuck off, Avery."
"People have been telling me to fuck off a lot these days."
"Yeah? Listen to them for once."
"Fuck you."
"Goodbye. Didn't you have to meet Kamil at five?"
Shit. It's ten minutes past five.
—
KAMIL SITS ON A LONELY SWING LOOKING LIKE A KID WHO HAS BEEN SHUNNED BY HIS FRIENDS. His eyes are glued to the screen of his phone, and even from distance, I can see him squint against the bright daylight. His black converse is rooted in the sand, keeping him from moving. Even though he has not looked up from his phone, Kamil speaks with his words coated in annoyance that I cannot blame him for, "Are you always this late or is this treatment special for me?"
"I lost track of time because I was doing something important."
He shoves his phone in his pocket and looks up, "Like?"
"Like none of your business."
"I am pretty sure it is my business since I have been waiting here for the past fifteen minutes waiting for you to show up so we can get this shitty thing done."
"I was talking to Elliot."
"Oh."
"Yup, so can we move now?" Kamil stands up without a word and walks out of the park. I roll my eyes over his childish behaviour, but it is not exactly my position to judge.
I fill the little silence caused between us that started choking me, "So, what are we going to do now?" Last night, Kamil only (re)proposed to do the activity together and we decided to meet today at the park. When I asked him to get inside, as expected he shoved his hands deeper in his pocket and turned on his heels telling me to be on time. Valerie clicked her tongue at the entire scene and smirked before I started my commentary on Sia Kauffman.
"I don't know, did you prepare anything?"
"No, and where are we walking to?"
Kamil sighs, "You did not prepare anything? Seriously?"
"I thought you did it."
"Okay, wow. You are only good at lacrosse."
"Fuck off, Kamil. Are you born here?"
"Yeah, my parents have been living here since they were children."
"So, did you talk to your parents about how this place was while we were born? Or an older sibling?"
"No and no. Only child."
"Wow, you are good at nothing."
He gives me the most irritated glance, "You have an older sister. Did you ask her?"
"Yes, but she was like five at the time. So, she does not remember anything that would help us."
"Parents?"
"I live with my sister."
"Oh."
"Yeah. So, why don't we go and ask your parents about this?"
"I don't think that is a good idea."
"Why?"
"None of your business."
"This is going nowhere. What are we going to do?"
Kamil rubs his eyes, "Okay, so maybe we can hit the town library and search through some newspapers?"
I hated that I have to crane my head to look up at his face, "You want me to dig through a dusty old newspaper in a library and read?"
"Or can you sit in detention with me?" Detention definitely feels like a better idea, but I follow Kamil around anyways.
—
I BREATHE IN THE DUST JUST TO COUGH MY LUNGS OUT. Kamil rolls his eyes at me but keeps on dividing the old newspapers into two sections. I always knew that the town library exists, but it is the first time I am walking in here. Without any doubt, it is probably the oldest building here that has not been renovated since its build. It looks dangerous, to be honest, the walls could collapse any second by the way they had moss going over them. And it is not even the worst part. The worst part is the old librarian on the desk who have aged over his expiry date. Kamil tells me that the library is looked at and owned by an old couple since he could remember.
He directly skips to the second floor and of course, Kamil knows where they keep the town's archives. And I don't think I can even call it a floor because it looks more like an attic, with a roof so low that it might graze my head if I stand on my toes. And Kamil has to bend down with the height of a giraffe. I notice a silver ring in his hands when he hands me the newspaper.
"Oh, nice ring. Where did you get it from?"
"It's a library, Avery. Keep quiet for fuck's sake." He sits on an equally damaged wooden chair.
"Woah, calm down. There is literally no one here except us, I can talk as loud as I want to. Why are you always so irritated?"
"What?"
"Irritated, angry. Like someone is always on your nerves dancing, over your pain. Chill out."
He does not even look up from the paper, "I am not angry all the time."
"Seriously? The only time I have seen you chill would be during the party. But you were drunk, so that would not count. That leaves lacrosse and your asshole of a friend group—"
"They are not assholes."
I scoff, "Of course, they aren't. Everyone is different to other people, Kamil. They don't act the same way with you as they do with me. And even in lacrosse, you hate me—"
"I don't hate you. It's a big word."
"Right, you dislike me so much that you called me a whore just because we made out and it was very consensual." Kamil says nothing but his ears turns pink in embarrassment. "I am just saying that sometimes it is okay to relax. I have never seen you have fun. And I bet ten dollars that were the first time you were ever drunk. Or at the most third time."
His eyes scan my face, "Shut up, Avery. It's not like I don't have fun, your definition of fun and mine is very different. Plus you don't even know me that well. Your opinion is biased and only based on the observation in school. No one gives a fuck about what you think. Let my friends be an asshole to you because you are so on my nerves that at this point, you deserve it."
"Yeah? I deserve being pushed around in hallways and poured drinks over in a party and being the object of some stupid truth and dares? I am not an asshole to your friends at all, Kamil. I am an asshole to you, and I don't mind you barking and shouting at me. But your friends are gonna come up to me and act like bitches, then I am not going to shut up about it." Kamil goes silent with his eyes back on the newspaper in his hand clutched too tight that his knuckles turned lighter than his olive shade. Of course, he is silent now, he knows that I did not lie in my entire monologue. "Tell me your definition of fun."
"Huh?"
"Your definition of fun, Qureshi."
"I do not want to answer that question."
I nod, "Okay, you know what, we have one and a half weeks right? I will teach you my type of fun, and you can bold up, and ask your parents about the project, and maybe I will do some research too."
"This is literally a project with a partner, it's your duty to the fifty per cent of the assignment with me."
"Shh, so you are in?"
He looks up again, "And 'your type of fun'. What exactly is 'your type of fun', Ramos?"
A smirk climbs up my face, "You will see. So are you in or?"
"Whatever makes you do your part of the assignment."
—