Emily

by

Pepper L. Bauer

"Nobody really likes me you know. They think I’m different." After making her pronouncement, Emily slid off her perch on the porch railing and rubbed her butt. "Splinters," she said, and squinted up at Jason, still balanced on the railing; his bluejean encased legs swinging in time to some private melody in his head. Thirteen year old Jason gazed fondly down at his best friend. His neat buzz cut and clear blue eyes were in contrast to her tousled blonde hair, brown eyes, and mass of freckles. "Uh uh," he said, "That’s not true. I like you."

Emily stared at him a second, then slapped his knee. "Doesn’t count," she laughed, "you’re weird too." She turned, jumped off the porch, and started running across the yard. Jason leaped off the railing and chased her, closing the distance between them rapidly. The warm late spring breeze flowed past their faces. They gulped the currents of sweet tasting air; their souls intoxicated by the nectar filling their lungs.

Emily and Jason neared the woods. Like sirens to a sailor, the waving trees beckoned them. Entering the cool cathedral of the forest, they climbed, jumped, wrestled and laughed with all the blessings of innocence and joy that only childhood can bestow.

A creek, sparkling in the dappled sunlight, tempted the children. They ran to it and hopped across on slippery stepping stones, baptizing their tennis shoes. They laughed at the frogs leaping into the water like so many "men overboard".

Racing up a hill, Emily and Jason spied the wide-open spaces of a meadow. Wild flowers speckled the landscape with multihued splashes of color. Racing into the midst of them, they twirled round and round yelling, "Poppies, poppies" in their best "Wizard of Oz" witches’ voices. They whirled until they fell to the ground dizzy and exhausted. Lying there in that comfortable silence only true comrades experience, they happily dreamed their own private dreams.

After a while, Emily sat up, picked a dandelion and stuck it under Jason’s chin. "You like butter," she laughed. Jason grinned up at his best friend; her unruly hair silhouetted against the sky and dancing in the breeze. He was always comfortable with her. He then remembered what she said on the porch. "Seriously Em," he said, his blue eyes questioning. "What do you mean no one likes you?"

Emily dropped the dandelion and sighed. She looked away from Jason. "It’s true," she said; absent mindedly twirling a strand of blonde hair with her fingers. "I can tell. I don’t blame them. I am different. I know it."

Jason sat up. "Everyone likes you," he protested. He reached over and touched her chin. "Look at me, Em." Emily turned her head and looked at Jason; his earnest expression caused unbidden tears to sting her eyes. "You always have girlfriends to hang with. They all invite you to their parties. They don’t have to, you know," he added. "My mom and dad love you too. All the adults do. I don’t know where you get your strange ideas."

Emily stretched back out on the ground, and stared at the clouds. "I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that I’m not comfortable with my friends. I don’t understand a lot of the things they do for fun. I don’t understand them. I don’t like fixing hair or make-up. I don’t get excited about clothes, or rock bands, or boys like they do. They gossip and scream; call boys on the phone, hang up and laugh hysterically. Sometimes I think they’re just goofy, and I’m afraid they know what I’m thinking." Emily rolled over on her side and looked intently at Jason again. "I take books to parties in case I get bored. I once hid under the covers at a Girl Scout camp out and read Dickens’ "Great Expectations" by flashlight. How weird is that? Worse yet, that was the most fun I had all weekend. When I go places at night, like slumber parties or wienie roasts, I sneak away first chance I get to someplace quiet and look at the stars. I talk to them. They’re comforting. Whenever I feel tense or confused, I know I can gaze at the stars and they’ll calm me. Did you know that stars are always in the sky? They shine all the time, but you can only see their light when your part of the world is at its darkest. That’s why I love the night sky. It reminds me of God, and I feel closer to Him somehow. At least I know He likes me. I couldn’t tell that to any of my girlfriends. They’d really think I was strange."

Jason sat up. "Listen to me, Em. You’re imagining things. I know for a fact everyone likes you. They know you’re a bookworm, but that doesn’t bother them any. That’s just how you are."

Emily sat up and smiled at her best friend. "Are you sure?" "Of course," Jason grinned. "Trust me." "I do," she whispered, reached over and squeezed his hand.

The young people happily spent the rest of the afternoon stretching their imaginations by discovering familiar shapes in the clouds. Horses, elephants, and snakes joined herds of other creatures and objects to parade across the sky. It was an amazing spectacle.

Jason noticed the shadows lengthening. A cooler breeze started to tickle his cheeks. "We better go" he grunted, and scrambled to his feet.

Emily stood up and stretched. "It must be getting close to supper time. I have to go past your house before I go home. Left my books on your porch." The friends started walking towards their homes in contented silence.

The children arrived at Jason’s house and climbed the steps to his front porch. The doors and windows were open; homey smells and sounds lazily drifted out and mingled with the spring air.

Emily spied her books and stooped to pick them up. She could hear voices from inside the house. Evidently Jason’s dad was home from work; his bass voice carried clearly outside. "Is Jason home?" They could hear his mom answer distinctly. "No, he’s off with Emily again. John, I’m worried about that friendship."

Emily stiffened. She turned towards the house, straining to hear the conversation inside. Jason’s mother continued. "I’m concerned he spends too much time with her. She’s really eccentric. All the mothers are starting to wonder about her. Joan Moore said that at her daughter’s slumber party, Emily spent all her time outside by herself, or reading a book. The girls all laugh at her behind her back. I think she’s a bad influence on Jason. I don’t want him to start acting odd like her. He’ll lose all his friends."

Emily dropped her books; her fingers suddenly numb. Jason pawed ineffectively at her arm trying to pull her away, but she froze in place; brown eyes open as wide as saucers.

Now they could hear John’s voice. "What do you want to do about it?" Jason’s mom answered. "Some of the mothers have decided not to allow Emily in their houses anymore. She gives them the willies. Sally Jackson swears she heard her talking to the stars one night. Maybe she’s on drugs or something. I don’t want Jason to see her anymore. I’m going to forbid it. He needs to do more stuff with his male friends."

With a choked cry, Emily turned and crashed off the porch; her eyes blinded by tears. Jason shouted desperately, "Em, Em," but she ignored him and fled back towards the sanctuary of the trees. Frantic, Jason raced after her.

Emily scrambled up a hill to the crown where a gnarled old tree stood silent sentinel. She flung herself to the ground under the tree and sobbed uncontrollably.

Jason reached Emily, gently grasped her shoulders, and pulled her upright. He tenderly leaned her back against the rough bark of the ancient hardwood. Lowering himself next to her, he eased her head down onto his shoulder, and tried to offer consolation by awkwardly patting her soft hair.

The best friends remained entwined in complete silence as twilight deepened into night. They kept vigil under the velvet sky as the increasing darkness revealed the presence of the eternally faithful stars.