I
really hate recounting incidents like these. Makes me so mad I can eat
everything inside the fridge. And that is bad because that'll make me overweight which in turn will create many
stuff in my body which is bad because I don’t need to tell you
why, it’s all common sense stuff. So this particular incident
came by my mind, to say hello or what, and I wrote it down, for my mind’s peace sake. Because you see, until I write it down
somewhere, I will keep thinking about it. How irritating will that be? Yes,
very. But the point is this is awfully irritating.
Okay, so I had this friend, who turned
to be my so-called best friend in 8th grade. I mean, I had all these
experiences where I never had a boyfriend but I had multiple best-friends.
Either I don’t know how to distinguish between close friends and
best friends or what, but just like girls magically need boyfriends as soon as
their puberty works on them, I had a real lot of ex-best friends. Ironically,
boyfriends and best-friends, both truncate to BF. Hah, nice work. But since we
were talking about that friend of mine, who was my ex-best-friend, we should
just continue talking about her. She, you know, did the worst thing ever done
by a friend to another friend. I mean, jokes in their own place, this was
mindlessly dirty. Not slutty dirty but dirty in its own sense. What she did was
she was absent from classes, science classes. We’d just started our
term and she had to mess things up. She
was absent so she called me up. Asked me about the work, I told her. I won’t detail it, but I halved the work, which her stupid
convent brain didn’t understand, even after I mentioned it, like twice or
thrice. But yeah, she called me up for the science assignment. I told her what
the assignment was. I mean, I really
detailed into the assignment, page numbers and where the answers were, the
questions. Everything; and by everything, I mean every darn thing. It’s a wonder how people don’t appreciate what you do for them. It’s like, they’re done with you and
then they are like, “Ok thanks bye”. So maddening. So,
anyway, after all that, it was a biology assignment, by the way, she called me
up, like half-an-hour later to tell me that she didn’t have her biology copy but physics copy. I mean, come
on! Just change the label and write “biology copy” there. I did the same. I got my chemistry copy so I
changed the label. And it wasn’t that hard too because our biology, chemistry and
physics copy were more or less same and you can only tell them apart if you
have a label that says it’s a biology copy or physics or chemistry. But
obviously, she didn’t do that, even after I told her over the phone. I got to know of it after she created that
drama out of nothing and made me cry, the next day.
The next day, I asked her if she did
her homework. Evil grin on the face, she told me coolly, that she didn’t. She obviously felt cool while saying that but I
felt my ears go warm, hot actually. Even though I can’t see my ears, I knew they were getting red. I felt them getting red. And she, she was
smiling still, like it was all fun and games. Well, it was for her. So, I
thought that may be since she is smiling, it’s a joke. I mean,
would you say, “OMG! I committed a murder! Yay!” If you would, then that’s what she looked
like that day. So evil. So serenely evil. Well, after all that, we went to the
class. Now, during science class, I was feeling really weird, uptight because I
knew she’d do something wrong. And she did too. When the
teacher started collecting the copies, she said, “My friend didn’t tell me about it”. I heard it. Damn
clear it was; also because I was sitting on the front bench. For a moment,
everything felt quiet around, when in reality it wasn’t. The teacher asked, “Who?” and I think she pointed at me. I felt like I was
about to be executed, getting my head chopped. And I pictured her, her foot on
my head, which was separated from my body; she was laughing an evil-victorious
laugh. I heard the teacher take my name and because I didn’t want further humiliation, I got up a tiny second
before she even finished calling out my name. I guess I wanted to run away. I
looked at the teacher and she had an angry look in her eyes. And she started
with the “why-didn’t-you-tell-her-about-it?” where I occasionally replied with an “I-did-tell-her”. Didn’t work; She was mad angry. I mean, you could see that
fury on her face, annoyed and all she was. I wasn’t prepared for all
these of course, but I did put my head down and listened; I stopped defending
myself because I was stammering and that made the teacher feel I was guilty,
even more. You see, I am not very comfortable while speaking things out. That
was even more intense then; now, however, I run about like a rabbit. So, while
she was telling me stuff like “very disappointing”, “tsk tsk”, “very irresponsible of you”, the one thing that caught my ears was “I can imagine now the kind of friend that you are”. I looked up at her, real eye contact, we made. Like,
I could see the color of her eyes (it was brown) and I knew tears did roll down
my cheeks. That was the first time I cried in front of a teacher. I was sort
of, how do I put it, hurt. And believe me that was the day I knew what it meant
to be hurt, literally. Like, I’ve heard it in movies, read it in books and also heard
some of my friends say it too but they didn’t mean it of course.
Because this was what it felt like to
be hurt. Not when “Oh my God! My boyfriend dumped me! I am deeply hurt.” Yeah, your boyfriend dumped you because you happened
to have hugged a couple of other guys too. You are, I can say with full
confidence, not hurt or anywhere near it. You’re just sad he found
out. But this was different. I knew she never really appreciated my existence
and therefore I could never calculate as to why she would call me her best
friend even, but this wasn’t expected. Because I damn well know the kind of
friend that I am. But then you are “innocent” because you lied and you are sure hell lucky there
was a teacher there or I’d have really forgotten my limits and would have
bad-worded you to death. But what I really did was cry. Cry like mad because I
was so hurt and angry and sad. I don’t usually cry like
that but when I looked at the ground, my eyes turned into a magnifying glass.
Yeah that’s how much I cried. My face, I think, became so salty
with tear-water that snails wouldn’t survive to tell
their children the tale of how they “snail-ed” onto a human face.
But I wish the story
got over here. I didn’t. She denies
doing any such thing. Like, on my face. She told me once. But I won’t detail it. Because that isn’t reading-worth, because that was real cheap. And good
people don’t read cheap stuff, nor do they write about it.
