It Meant a Lot To Me, You Know

A month was too generous. Three months of extra chores, no allowance, and agreement to start drafting my college essay the second I got out of school that Friday along with a summer job. A fair punishment, all factors considered. And by that, I mean at least I didn’t have to repaint the house while we were at it.

In this moment, though, I’d take repainting the entire house twice over the conversation I was about to have. I stayed in my desk as most of my peers filtered out. My history teacher talked with Mr. Fisher for a while before he finally dumped a pile of exams on his desk and left.

Just go. Go, don’t even think about it—

“Mr. Castro?”

SHIT!

I jolted out of my seat. The association between his voice and dreaded conversations about my future were so strong that even an intentional talk couldn’t shake it.

“Uh,” I said. Words weren’t working, so I walked over and plunked into the seat he had left beside his desk. He immediately grabbed a folder to cover the exams and exam key with before he turned to face me, hands tented on the desk.

“If you’re scheduling your next retake, I would wait until I’ve actually graded your exam,” he said. “Though I appreciate the forward notice.”

“It’s not that,” I said. My hands rested on my lap, and I tapped my knees idly. “It’s…”

This was embarrassing. Why’d I think it was a good idea? Crying to an adult about my feelings like I’m five and getting picked on by my older sibling? I don’t even have one of those.

“It’s?” he prompted. I winced and leaned back. “I’m not going to force you to talk about anything you don’t want to discuss, but…”

He trailed off. He was about to say something, but he stopped himself and started again. “No. Take your time. I can wait as long as you need.”

“When you say that, you really sound like a therapist,” I said with a laugh. He only smiled and remained silent, just as he said he would.

Mr. Fisher was something special, huh.

“I have a friend,” I began, which elicited a gasp from him. “Hey, don’t sound so shocked!”

“What? Me? Shocked? Never.”

“Oh, be quiet. Anyways, I have a friend. The two of us had been working on an online project, when she, uh…went ahead on a lot of stuff. It’s a creative project, so when she finished it without me and started showing it to people, it felt as though she was disregarding a lot of my ideas. I thought she’d understand if I told her, but she didn’t, so I got frustrated and left. We haven’t really talked since yesterday, and—and…”

My hands balled on top of my lap. “I don’t want to lose her,” I said. “So I was wondering if there’s a better way I can say what I mean that I’ve been missing.”

He looked down at his desk. “To be blunt, I don’t believe you’re in the wrong,” he began, “and from what I’ve seen of people, we all have a tendency to be defensive. No one wants to believe they’re in the wrong.”

You didn’t need to tell me twice, man—my flashbacks to a few weeks back were all I needed to cringe. If she could somehow put up with being my friend after that embarrassing display, then I had to get through to her somehow.

“I think the time apart has given you both a chance to think about this,” he continued, “so when you speak again, all I think you need to do is take an empathetic approach.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Explain how it made you feel, use some personal comparisons. If that doesn’t work, then it’s up to you whether you want to continue that friendship or not. And, just to be clear…”

He gave me an odd, annoyed look. “You don’t happen to be this friend who’s made someone else upset, right?”

“What?!” I got out of my seat and yelled. “Of course not! I know it sounds like a cliche excuse, but it’s true!”

He clicked his tongue, hardly phased by my outburst. “When you get so defensive, it’s harder to convince me.”

“Oh, come on!”

I took that as a cue to leave—but not before a quietly mouthed ‘Thank you’ at the door. He looked me in the eye with a proud smile and nodded. I know I could’ve been more honest, but that conversation was embarrassing as it was. Helpful and needed, but…I’m never doing that again.

If I’m lucky enough, I won’t need to. I’ll make things right, and we’ll rebuild our world for two.

When I got home, I was accosted by my mother in record speed. This time I employed a strategy known to many kids my age: smile and nod. Do as you’re told, and you’ll be spared the torture of thinking about your future. It didn’t spare me from a lecture she had on her own research when it came to extracurriculars (which I lacked, and which she reminded me of several times) and the odds of getting into more competitive universities without those. Next on the agenda was outlining essay pitches, all of which I jotted down and took to my room via a notebook with a promise to review them after an hour of brutal torture.

Writing was more fun when it was about fantasy worlds, powerful fights and deep feelings. Not when it was about how to make my life sound far more interesting than it was. The notebook ended up dropped on the corner of my desk as I powered on my PC.

Eclipse opened, but before I looked at her DMs, I went to my private Group I’d made soon after I got my account. It was where I made chat rooms to put my world-building and OC notes—and where I’d practice talking to another human being, apparently. What a life I’m living…

Try comparing. Speak calmly. Would proper grammar scare her off? Stupid. Just be natural!

TowersFall: so
TowersFall: sorry for avoiding your messages
TowersFall: a lot happened and i didn’t know how to respond calmly to you but i think i know now
TowersFall: i was really frustrated at the time. it was like you didnt care about my ideas or my input and just kinda wanted me there because i was originally involved? like
TowersFall: how the hell do i word this
TowersFall: like if we were drawing a mural together, and you told me we were taking a break for a week only for me to come back after a week and see you finished it without telling me yknow?
TowersFall: but youre my friend and i do care
TowersFall: and i dont really want that to change just because of our disagreement on this
TowersFall: so lets talk about this
TowersFall: my only condition is that you roll back your progress on the rp so we can work on it and decide things together. we made this world from our imaginations, and i really wanna keep it that way

With my thoughts put down, I copied and switched to her DM window—but what I saw was what I expected least of all.