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My Friend

Calida Evans

When we were little we used to ransack the house for pillows and

blankets and build the biggest cubby that the world had ever seen.

He’d pull every single blanket off of his bed and I would temporarily

forget that he’d probably peed on those blankets last night. We would

spend the day under blankets, pillows and coffee tables and the air

would be hot and stuffy and it would smell like pee. We didn’t care.

He didn’t stop wetting his bed for years, even though he got into

huge trouble. It was like it was his way to get back at the world. He

always had his ways to get at people. He would never eat with knives

and forks properly or use a napkin. It was disturbing and disgusting

to watch him eat, he gave me a front seat view to the insides of his

mouth full of mashed up food that had a reddish colour to it because

he lived on a diet of tomato sauce. I asked him once if he even tried

to use the cutlery and he just giggled and said ‘Nope’ and went back

to stuffing his face.

I have never seen him brush his hair willingly. His hair did what it

wanted and it was never exactly the same. Once, when he hadn’t

been dragged kicking and screaming to the hairdressers for a while,

his hair was so long that all I could see of his face was a great big

blond mane of hair.

I’m not sure what colour his eyes are. One of our friends swears

that they are green, like hers, but when I looked they were hazelnut.

Whenever he wanted something he would open his eyes really wide

and present a creepy half smile, half smirk. I think it was meant to be

cute but it looked disturbing to me.

He had this vendetta against buttons and refused towear anything

with them. He spent half the time in too short sweatpants and

t-shirts that were actually long sleeved shirts that he’d grown out of

and hadn’t bothered to buy new clothing. It wasn’t that he couldn’t

afford it, our parents certainly could, he just didn’t like anything. He

absolutely hated jeans and didn’t even try to learn how to tie shoe

laces ‘til the end of grade four. He got it eventually, but I think it was

only because of the threat of losing computer privileges.

He would often spend the whole day on the computer playing

games. He would groan, complain when I wanted to have a go and

he would walk slowly while trying to elbow me as he stomped his

way up the stairs into his room. If he wasn’t on his computer, he was

watching television or playing on the Wii. The only sport he ever did

was swimming and I really wish that he wasn’t that good at it.

Most of the time he was a harmless kid but sometimes he would