Author's note: I was inspired to write the story of my life to help others who go through the same situations... Show full author's note »
Time With Friends is Never Quite EnoughThe days that followed were amazing. I prepared with many rehearsals for our chorale tour. He smiled when he saw me in the halls. I smiled when he texted me. Life was amazing. The days before the trip started counting down. We got on the subject and he asked when we were leaving. I told him that we were leaving the following Thursday at four o’clock in the morning. He started talking about his flight out of town on that Wednesday. Then, we started talking about random stuff like school and our schedules for the following year. Finally, Wednesday arrived, and James and his little sister, Sarah, were flying out. I wished him a good flight as I prepared for my departure the following morning. I signed onto my social network for what seemed liked the first time in forever. Aaron was online, and I had this random urge inside my head to bug him. I had friended him during an extreme part of my depression, and part of me didn’t know why. I still didn’t even know WHY I wanted to talk to him, but I did. Our first real conversation was pretty awkward. I didn’t know what to say, but I just kept talking. I’m pretty sure I scared him in the beginning when I mentioned topics like my “rain outfit” which consisted of the color green, because I had theorized that people are happier when they wear green in the rain, since it matching the “clear” color of the raindrops. I talked to him about my trip and my awesome choral group. Then, we talked about lettuce and hunting for four-leaf clovers. When he started replying with “Yup” and “Lol”, I knew that I had pretty much bored my stranger for the day and bid him farewell, so I could finally prepare for the trip. I had been putting off the packing for weeks. Everlyse called right as I had finished packing. We talked for a while before I went to sleep.
The next morning, I arrived at school at four o’clock in the morning. My mom and I loaded our things onto the bus and we took off. I sat next to this girl from my chorus. Her name was Leah. We spent the whole fourteen hour drive to our performance venue, reading anime and listening to Japanese music. By the time we got to our destination, I was so tired, I just collapsed into my bed after we signed into our hotel. The next morning, we had practice. We practiced our piece for five hours and were finally released for free time. I took my time to go look for a new set of headphones since mine had broken on the drive up. After a couple of hours worth of shopping, my mom and I headed back to our hotel for some well-deserved rest. The rest of the trip went by pretty fast. Every day we had rehearsals in some weird venue that wasn’t even similar to the performance venue. That Saturday, we finally practiced in our real performance venue. It was a lot different. There was an orchestra and it was a lot bigger than I had imagined. I have never been one to get nervous, but it put butterflies (and not the good kind) in my tummy.
That night, we wandered around town and attended random shows across the city. My group, being chaperoned by my mom, went to get some food. I was still in my vegetarian phase (I became a vegetarian in April, right before James and I had our fight, to compete for a Vegetarian Scholarship). Well, while we were pondering on delicious type of food we were going to eat, it started a torrential downpour. As rain bounced off the ground and everything around it, I switched from being a mature, philosophical teenager to being the teenage girl that I have buried deep down inside myself. I went into hysterical mode because it was raining and I didn’t want my HAIR to get messed up. See, I have super curly hair and I had straightened it so that James would notice me more easily. So, I’m running under awnings because I didn’t have an umbrella while the rest of my crew did. I constantly insisted that I didn’t need an umbrella, understanding that in my complexly disastrous mind that to ask for someone’s umbrella is admitting defeat. Therefore, I was drenched from head to toe, before a soon-to-be senior from Lillyport quietly sneaked up behind me and gently held the umbrella over my head. To this day, I don’t think I would have ever gotten to know him had it not been for that. His name was Jordan. Jordan slowly became one of my best friends, and even later, one of my slight crushes.
We ended up going to a random Irish pub in town, even though it was a school trip, and my chaperone (once again, my mom) really shouldn’t have taken us somewhere that would have been a “bad influence.” We sat around and goofed off, our grins each unique by a crooked tooth or gap or braces.