Here's another. My third fan fiction. This one is not related to any of the other stories that I have written and I hope you enjoy it, both new and previous readers of mine xoxo
“Avigail! What is taking you so long?” Kaya yelled to me, pounding hard on the other side of my bedroom door, “Why is it taking you so long to get ready?”
I rolled my eyes as I slipped an ordinary t-shirt on over my head and flipped my hair out from underneath the collar. I thought that since we had known each other for so long that Kaya would have become more patient with me; it wasn’t unusual that it took me forever to get ready and I was only running thirty minutes late tonight. I quickly checked myself over once more in the full-length mirror making sure that I looked my best before grabbing my purse off the clothes-scattered bed and went to open the door for Kaya.
I had known Kaya since I was ten years old and now, seven years later, we were still best friends. When I met her, I had just moved from one small town to another several kilometres away. It was my first day at the new school and when I walked into the class, I wasn’t welcomed by a single classmate. “This is Avigail,” the teacher announced to the class with dim enthusiasm, “I expect that each and every one of you will treat her like you treat the rest of your friends.” Even with that less than warm welcome, I truly believed that no one in that class had any friends because I certainly wasn’t treated like one. The teacher also didn’t even bother to try and make me feel comfortable in the new environment. So, I was ignored. I was small and I was an outsider, clearly a person that none of the students wanted to waste their time on. No one, that was, except Kaya.
I was sitting alone on one of the swings at the playground after school when Kaya came running up to me and started jabbering away like we had been friends for years, “Avigail, you won’t believe what just happened! You know that girl who was sitting in front of you today? Well Brooke, oh, that’s her name, Brooke. But anyways, do you know what she just did? She touched a worm! I mean, a real worm, from the ground. Isn’t that the grossest thing you’ve ever heard?” Without even hesitating at the first, abrupt sign of friendship, I exclaimed my reflected disgust, “You’re kidding! That is the most disgusting thing ever. Why would she do that?”
The next day, Kaya moved her desk next to mine in class. I quickly discovered that Kaya was great; she was generous, kind, caring, funny and every other positive adjective in every language. But the one thing that lingered in my mind was why someone like her wanted to be friends with me. I didn’t have many friends when I was at my old school and the one that I had weren’t very close to me. I needed to know the why, and since I had the feeling that I could ask Kaya anything, I tested that hypothesis. “Kaya,” I asked simply, “why are you being so nice to me? Why do you want to be my friend?” She giggled and gave me a hug, just like old friends. “Because you’re special,” she replied matter-a-factly.
Ever since, we were best friends. When we were young, we spent all our time at school together and had so many sleepovers that we couldn’t even keep track. As we grew older, we were attached at the hip; going from school, to the mall, to work and every other place in between together. We never ran out of things to talk about even though we had spent enough time together to discuss every topic in the world…twice. She was there for me even in the most difficult, distressful and traumatizing times. Like one year ago, when I gave everything away to my boyfriend—I mean, ex-boyfriend—and he broke up with me the next day. Not only did I have to get over a lost love, because I did love him, but I also had to get over being used, which left me literally sick to my stomach, and Kaya was there, holding back my hair. She was the only one who could have pulled me through the situation.
And of course, I reciprocated everything that Kaya did for me. I helped her get through all of the many rumours that circulated around our envious, clichéd high school about her, some of which included eating disorders because of her perfect figure, and how she managed to get some of the hottest, (and surprisingly) nicest guys to go out with her and stay faithful to her.
Tonight, we were going to a party together. It wasn’t anything special; just a bunch of our friends getting together to have fun. Kaya came over to my house right after school and pulled out a silk shirt from the far end of my closet, where she happened to keep several items of her own clothing. She immediately slipped out of her t-shirt, changed into the top and then headed downstairs to make herself something to eat. Meanwhile, I stood in front of my wardrobe, pondering endlessly about what to wear. That leads us to where we are now: Kaya pounding on my door, as usually, while I finally, thirty minutes later, had gotten dressed and fixed my make-up and hair.
I opened the door, easily avoiding her fist which was raised a foot above my head about to hammer the door again. “I’m ready,” I announced freely as I watched Kaya appraise my t-shirt, jeans and casual pair of short, red heels. She rolled her eyes at how long it took me to pull together such a simple outfit, an outfit almost identical to the one that I had wore to school, before taking a strand of hair and tucking it back behind my ear.
“You’re lucky I love you, Avigail. Otherwise I would have just picked up my shirt, stolen your food and left,” Kaya said, linking her arm with mine and headed down the stairs.
“It’s not like you don’t do that occasionally,” I said teasingly but truthfully. I walked with her down the stairs and out the door.
Kaya groaned with mock annoyance, “I hate having someone know my every move.”
“Well, get a move on now,” I teased, “You’re making us late.”