We quietly captivated each other from across the classroom. Our bookworms were the longest by far, neck and neck as we strained daily to out read each other. Her scores on everything were rival only to mine. For the first time in my tiny academic life I could see someone capable of besting me even working my hardest. She didn't realize I felt stimulated for the first time in my life, and I found myself working longer and harder, paying better attention, even becoming more involved. She seemed a little agitated that she too had to work harder to stay on top, being pushed in a way no else but the teacher noticed. The competition was fierce and I loved every second of it, slyly watching her, quietly snickering to myself when I beat her at anything. She went out of her way not to talk to me or come near me on the playground.
Until one day. The bell had rung to come in from recess. Being the fastest runner in my class, I was first in line waiting for the door to be unlocked. A somewhat new boy behind me was flirting with some of the girls, I said something irritating that I thought was funny (I've always been a horrible judge of humor), and without warning, she stepped out and around the line to grab my hand and bite the back of it hard enough to draw blood, and then just hung on to that grip like a bulldog. I didnt even wince and just stood there staring at her.
Of course I was stunned, but in a completely new way. I knew exactly at that moment she was my alpha and that I was her pack. I hid the blood and walked into class like nothing had happened, a bit angry, a bit flushed, and absolutely thrilled that she had dared something so unexpected and unlike her usual calm cover. I got to her. I controlled her emotion in that moment, and she was weak enough to show her own hand. She was mine, and we both knew it.
From then on we were best friends, inseparable whenever we were in the same room. Even years later in middle school, when we had different classes and she had a coterie of friends around her at all times, I was the one they backed up for any time she entered my vicinity. I was like her right hand in those moments. Despite my severe lack of social graces and almost scarily uncaring attitude, I was her number one (think Dr. Evil) in the throng around her.
I never told anyone when she did bad things like key a teacher's car. I let her do social experiments on me even when it nearly got me beat up by gangs. I didn't mind that she thought it was funny to set everyone around her up for cruel jokes and never get caught. I was her sidekick in quite a few broken rules. To everyone else she was the ultra intelligent popular golden girl. To me she was simply the only person in the room.
Somewhere in all that we bonded like super glue, and when my parents moved me away from her in the 9th grade, we continued to faithfully write each other 3 times a week without fail for the next 4 years.
Until she was violently raped and murdered during her first year in college, and my heart broke.
She was my one love in my undiagnosed autistic childhood. My one friend.
This pain is unreal.
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