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This is how I met the most amazing person ever.
I met Lucy in October. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. The sound of her voice, her Harley Quinn pigtails, her black sweaters, her red Converse and the fiery look in her eyes. For months, she was the new girl nobody went to talk to. I kept looking at her, desperately wanting to talk to her, to know her, and before I knew it, she became extremely popular and I was just a lost soul in the croud. Lucy, however, never took notice of those people. She always acted as if everything was boring and nothing could happen to her. She was always sitting there reading while everyone was trying to socialize.
Maybe I forgot to mention this. I have nothing special. The only extraordinary thing I have is my bad luck. I never accomplished anything, I don't get high marks, I don't really have any friends, basically I'm just an average boy. My name is Joey and I'm 17. I never tried to make friends, because when you're my age and try to make friends, when you finally make your decision to go and talk to someone, you end up hearing things you shouldn't. Mean stuff people say about you, for example.
But I wasn't expecting that. One day, we were coming out of lessons, and Lucy stayed in the classroom, pretending to be extremely concentrated on our lesson about 19th Century France. I walked out last, staring at her. I stayed in the doorway for a second, and for the first time I heard her voice talking to me ;
'' Hey. Did you ever think of how insignificant our existence is to the planet? ''
''Uh, no, not really...'' I turned to face her.
''I did. I must have been nine, or ten. For his birthday, my brother was taken to a baseball match. I wasn't really into baseball, but I came anyway. When I walked into the stadium, I was amazed by the number of people. Everywhere I looked, there were people. I thought for a moment that all the people of America could be sitting in this stadium. I asked my dad how many people there were. He said around fifty thousand. Back home, I did the math. And the result impressed me alot. Not only fifty thousand wasn't even five percent of the American population, I realized America was also just a continent. There were still other continents, with other people, different people, interesting people, boring people, I was sure I could find any kind of people. In a world I thought was boring and repetitive, there must have been someone who would stand out. Why is that person not me? That was all I could think of.''
''I see.'' I couldn't find anything better to respond. Maybe it's because I'm too normal.
I stared at the millions of bubbles at the surface of the brown liquid.
''Listen, Joey, you should really try to make some friends. I mean, I've only known you for a day, and I think you're someone special.''
''How can I do that? We don't share the same opinion of the concept of socializing.''
''Exactly. What do you mean by making friends? You mean stopping to talk to a homeless person and he tells you how much he wants to die and once he actually die you feel good for him because you know that's what he wanted but you feel bad beacause you desperately wanted to be his friend ? No, that's not how you do it. You need to talk to people, and I mean people in our class, for example.''
'' I don't see how, Lucy. Our lives are very different.''
''They are, and I'm not trying to make your life the same as mine. Everyone has their problems.'Right, you know what? Come here, let's do something fun. ''
I got up from the sofa and followed Lucy down the steps to her basement.
She showed me into a room with an old wooden desk and a radio on it.
''Ever heard of AM radio frequencies ?''
I looked at her, puzzled. The only time I'd seen that was on an AM/FM switch, and I had no idea what it meant. I shook my head.
''It's what I call the lost frequencies. People used to use them alot, you know. You can't receive them like the FM waves, on a cell phone. But I can get them with this.'' She gestured to the old radio on the counter. ''They're super mysterious, and sometimes you can find really strange stuff. Like this.''
She turned on the radio and started fiddling with the buttons. Suddenly, I could hear sounds in a language I couldn't understand coming out of the radio. She turned them on, and some weird music was playing.
Soon enough, we became best friends. My bad luck maybe was a a form of luck, after all.
But one day, in December, Lucy said she'd go home on her bike, alone. That very evening, I received a phone call from her dad.
'' Joey, I have bad news.'' He sounded devastated. ''Lucille...passed away.''
When I heard that news, I screamed. All the emotions, kept inside me, were coming out, insistant, and every time I tried to forget who I was, they came out. Memories of Lucy, of her face, of her laugh, were haunting me.
I lost count of how many sleepless nights I had, drowning my sadness into my duvet cover and remembering her. Lucille Hartley. Lucy. I remember how she hated her name and decided she'd be Lucy. I know how bad she wanted to be a vet, and I kept remembering us vowing we'd be friends forever.
It's been five years. Now, I can remember how I suffered losing her. But when I remember her now, I feel grateful. She helped me overcome my problems, and now I feel better. I still have moments when I'm down, though. With her siblings, we created a blog about her, how amazing she was. It makes us all feel better for people to write to us because they can relate to our situations, or for support.
And this is how it ends. Thank you, Lucy.