Just Like You

June 2, 2011
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You never notice normal people. They are the ones who sit next to you in math class. They stand behind you in the line at the store. They wait their turn to get their food. You don’t notice them because they blend in. They are just like you.

Yes, you. The girl who is just like everyone. You are the one that everyone sees but doesn’t notice, if that makes sense. It should, because you make average grades. Just like the rest of the average people you know. You’re smart; you just don’t apply yourself as much as you should.
You, You, You. It’s all about you. You weren’t selfish, but there were just no people worth mentioning that were involved with your life.
That is, until he came along.
He used to be just like you. He followed the crowd, doing nothing to make him stand out. Living life to the norm, not the fullest, he could have been your twin. But he didn’t like that. Being normal just wasn’t for him.
He dyed his brown hair blonde. It actually looked better that way. You thought so, anyway. He stopped wearing the Abercrombie and Hollister shirts and started wearing band shirts like MGMT and The Strokes. But his favorite was Arcade Fire.
He quit putting on the same Nike’s every day and began to wear a new pair of Converse every week. He did away with the basketball shorts and started putting on skinny jeans. And you liked it. You thought he looked better that way.
He was turning into a hipster. But he wasn’t a poser. Because posers try to be something because they want to be like someone else. And he was just tired of the old him. He wasn’t trying to be someone else; he wanted to stop being someone that he wasn’t.
The day you met him was just like any other day. Well, for you anyway. He sat behind you in English class. You had never spoken before, because he had never started the conversation. You had to be quiet. That is, if you wanted to be invisible.
He tapped you on the shoulder and spoke up. “Do you have a pencil?” he asked. You nodded, but in your head made an unspoken deal with him. Trade his name for your chewed up, eraserless pencil. As you handed it to him, you asked. He said it was Flynn. Then, just to make sure, he asked, “Yours is Althea, right?” You nodded, he smiled, and you spun back around before your face became too red.
Every day in English, you and Flynn talked. Not about anything special, really. Just the weather, who’s baby the head cheerleader was pregnant with this time, the previous night’s homework. Nothing special, just what everyone else talked about. He tried to get you out of your shell, to talk about something odd, not something that everyone else was talking about. But you didn’t want to sound weird in front of the other people in the class, so you would always change the subject.
Then, one day, he invited you to a rave. You didn’t know what that was, he explained simply that it was a dance, and gave you a little crooked smile like he wasn’t telling the whole truth. But you took this as a sign in a way. It was as if you two had become friends. He thought the same thing.
So you accepted. You didn’t tell anyone, just in case they thought you were weird. Which they wouldn’t have, but you didn’t want to take chances.
On the night of the rave, you didn’t really know what to wear. You chose a strapless floral dress, because that’s what you usually wore to dances. And you knew it could get hot. Although you didn’t usually dance that much.
After you got permission from your parent, using the old “But it’s at a church!!” excuse, which was true but in no way meant that it would be any better there versus somewhere else. You called a taxi to pick you up, because Flynn had to be there early for… well, he wouldn’t tell you. The weird taxi driver, who looked like a badly dressed, middle aged Eminem, gave you a lecture on being a good kid, and asked you multiple times if you had snuck out. You tried to ignore him as much as possible without being rude.
When you finally arrived, after being annoyed by the strange driver, you quickly paid him and got out of the car. The building looked like a warehouse, and there was loud music with no words coming from the open door. You entered quickly. The music was so loud, your chest hurt and it was hard to breathe. Then you saw Flynn. He waved at you. You walked up to him quickly and yelled “IT’S SO LOUD!”
“I KNOW! ISN’T IT GREAT?!” He replied and smiled.





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