In reference to the title, I couldn't think of anything else to put. It's a prologue. I don't know whether I should continue it, or even ever look at it again, but, hey, I'm doing the best I can.
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For best mates, Reggie and I argue a lot. If I like mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, she has to say that strawberry rocks more. If she says that her mother is trying to crush her spirit, I have to reply that my mother crushes my spirit more, and then we bicker for at least half and hour, mostly moaning about how my parents are more stupid and obnoxious than hers, and vice versa. In fact, it’s as if we’re on a never-ending battle over who has more woe, me or her.
But we always make up, usually by one of us recollecting an anecdote deviating completely from the subject. Which is the point; after all, if it had to do with the subject, we would still be arguing about it.
Despite the arguments, and maybe because we always want to continue them for a little while, Reggie and I have been best friends from way before secondary school, back when we were little and a bit more alike. We both liked to sing, we both loved animals, we loved watching the comedy shows, and we would both compete over who could wind up their parents more.
After all, it was kind of fun, watching Reggie ignoring her parents when they tried to call her down for dinner, just because they were using her full name, ‘Regina’. And, for my part, I would always make her giggle, well, chortle, by doing accurate impressions of my mum and dad. We were almost identical in that we thought that our parents were a pair of idiots.
Of course, as we grew older, our tastes and looks began to differ, or at least, we changed drastically in musical respects. Reggie became a fan of rock, especially punk and all the hard stuff, while I drifted into the area known as Not Really Knowing What, as well as a bit of Anything So Long As It Isn’t Sean Parri (a pop ‘star’, the beloved of all those stupid, stupid girls in my class).
We began to change in the way we styled ourselves, at least in the way we looked. She got her hair dyed, spiked, and gelled into punk vogue, though not in that order. My general look stayed the same, mousy brown plaits and all, although I added glasses and braces to the geeky ensemble. My height just shot up, adding to the geek chic, while she grew for a bit, and then seemed to stop, so I towered over her.
We stayed friends even while we were changing, all through the end of primary school. We all knew that, one day, we’d have to go to the hell known as secondary school, but everyone pretended that there was bags of time before it would happen, even in the last week of the summer break, the few days before school began again.
Slowly, a lot of friends broke apart and joined cliques, even when they used to be really close. I never got why people like Lizzie Day and Rose Smith, once best friends, although many tried to break them apart so that they could be the best friend of one of the two, had split up almost as soon as they entered secondary school. All those happy little memories of the two working in tandem, showing off their best friend bracelets, whispering secrets in their ears were all forgotten. Their amity was suddenly a thing of the past.
Now, they couldn’t stand the sight of each other, never talking to each other, traded that happy little relationship for what? To hang around at the back of a group of sniggering girls, trying to please the clique leaders, laugh to any of their jokes, sympathize with them over stupid boys, and do whatever they want them to, just so they could still be part of the little circle? It’s completely bananas.
Reg and I were never like that. We stayed together, even though we hadn’t been all that close before, and would have liked a few others to socialize with. That was an impossibility, unfortunately. We found that all our other friends were being absorbed by the gangs of girls, so that we were increasingly alone. But we stayed together.
We were like moral support or something when we entered the dreaded school. If Reggie got put down by a teacher giving her an earful because of all her piercings, I would talk about how she was too post-modern for those old bats. If I was picked on by the other girls, Reggie would quickly set them straight, via conflict, that is, either giving them a punch (never a girly slap) or saying some stuff that would make some of them wither.
If we ever had a writing assignment, Reg would always come up with stories and characters, while I would get it all down; we would both review the other’s work before handing it in, in case something was wrong with it. In Science, I would pass little slips of paper, with little definitions and stuff on them, to Reg if she didn’t get something. In the drama club, if I stuttered on my lines, basically forgot them and had no clue what to do, she would quickly jump in and ad lib.
In short, we looked out for each other. It was a bit of an odd couple, the girl with the wild hairdo and scowl marching stride-by-stride with the awkwardly gangly swot, still with those sad plaits, wearing a non-altered uniform, symbol of an absolute nerd. I once had plans to change it a little bit, but all the plans looked stupid when I thought of myself in them.
A lot of the cliques had no idea why Reggie hung around with such a sad loser. But, contrary to their hopes, there was no reason for us to part company, as Reg once said, in a different manner of course, to say our adieus because a bunch of shallow girls wanted Reg to be in their circle of friends.
