Derek:
"Isn't that new girl in our government class hot?" This was the usual conversation between me and Clayton as we walked home from school.
"Oh, uh yeah, hot." I always pretended to be interested in other girls, but the truth was, I still hadn't gotten over Sophie.
"You should go for it, man, I saw her eying you the other day. What was her name again?"
"Sophie." We were walking past her house again. Just like every day.
"What?"
"Er I mean . . . Sarah. Her name's Sarah."
Everyday we walked past Sophie's old house and I pretended not to notice, but it always made me remember. I always had that impulse to run up to her door, and Sophie would answer the door and come outside, and it would be just like old times. But there were always those simple reminders it wasn't her house anymore. Her yard looked so empty without the ceramic goose, and all the beautiful flowers, and especially that sign. She had a sign in the shape of a soccer ball, all the soccer players had one. It was just that simple sign that said Sophie #6, that let me know that was her house. And now that house didn't belong to her.
That house brought back so many memories. Like that one big tree in her front yard. We would hide behind it as quietly as we could, and when her little sister would come outside we'd jump out and scare her. We could scare her every time, even though she always knew it was coming. And sometimes when she was home alone, I would ring the doorbell and run behind the tree. She always pretended to shut the door and go back inside and then she would creep up on me.
I hated looking at it all. Her bedroom window that I once climbed into at 3 AM, and had watched her climb out of countless times as well. The huge chimney we had once seen a bat fly out of. We screamed and then laughed until we cried. The slight crack in the side of the house, from the time we were playing baseball. And the worst, the driveway. The place we had said goodbye and the place I stood the last time I saw Sophie.
I remember, just a few weeks after we started dating, Sophie went to Michigan over Thanksgiving break. We stood in that exact driveway then saying goodbye like she'd be gone for an eternity, even though it would only be four days.
But that was the way goodbyes were with Sophie. She always said goodbye as if she would never see me again, whether I would be gone 2 days, or 2 minutes. I guess she was smart in that way. She knew someone might disappear from existence at any moment.
Sophie:
I had never been more mad then the moment my mom told me we were going to Ohio. So what if my grandma and grandpa were still there? Couldn't they just come here? I really never wanted to be near that place again.
I screamed at my mom. Of course I wanted to see my grandparents, but I just knew my mom would contact Derek. And Derek was the last person I wanted to see. Maybe I did love him at one point, but seeing him again might bring those emotions back, and then I'd just have to leave him all over again.
I imagined he would be upset with me. I hated dresses now; he loved when I wore my flowing dresses and danced in the wind. I no longer listened to music I could dance to. I listened to screamo and anything depressing I could find. I wore all black, and dyed my hair darker, no longer that beautiful reddish brown. He would be upset most of all, that I didn't play soccer anymore.
Soccer was how we met, and it helped us stay connected. He came to all my games, and we always played in the backyard. He really loved that sign in my front yard with my name. He always said it reminded him it was my house, the house of a soccer star. As soon as we moved, I began hating soccer. I couldn't remember what I loved about the hard work, constant running, 3 hour practices, and my life taken over by games. I didn't bother trying out for the team when we moved. It wasn't worth it.
After my mom told me we were going to Ohio, I sat on my bed and cried. As soon as I could see through the tears I got ready to argue some more, I wasn't going. I got up to leave my room, and that's when I noticed something that wasn't there before.
On my bulletin board, the one that used to be covered in flowers and butterflies, that was now covered in skulls, was a slip of paper. I knew that slip of paper anywhere. It was the one from that night so long ago . . . the one from Derek. But how? How did it get there? I threw that paper away months ago. There's no way it could be on my bulletin board. But it was.
I ran to it, ripped it off, and held it in my hand, not knowing what to do with it. As much as I wanted to throw it away, I couldn't.
