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"But you'd let me know, right? I saw this episode of Full House-" She hummed once more, but it was soulless. Her red hand flew to the cut long before she looked me in the eyes, her fingers tried to rub away the colours. Before saying anything else, I scanned over her clothes and hair nothing too out of place, yet this was the third time my best friend had come to school with bruises that week. "Rowan," I whispered and she hummed in response. The soft shades of purple and green practically introduced the shock of blood. "No, if you go down, I do too," I told her firmly as she went back to her drawing.Īs she bowed her head, her hair fell out of the way of her temple, and something remarkably interesting came to light. You'll be fine," Rowan corrected without looking at me directly, as she often avoided eye contact. "We're gonna' get in trouble for that," I said. My best friend's opponent opened her mouth to speak, but her small brain could no longer comprehend speech and she strutted away to gossip about us to her small circle.
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I didn't know how to spell intelligence in 2nd grade. Her head shot up and for a moment I thought Rowan actually cared, before her eyes narrowed into a glare and she challenged, "You don't know how to spell intelligence." "I'm going to tell Miss Harlowes you said that," Haley frowned. "Why can't you just talk normally?" her constantly judgemental voice cut right through me like nails grating down a chalkboard. "I'm not quite sure yet but it holds more value than you do as a person," Rowan smirked and I had to stop myself from laughing by hiding my face behind my arm. "What is that even supposed to be?" she grimaced at the drawings we were relentlessly scribbling at. No one else really bothered us, but Haley was obsessed. Haley Graham - the girl Rowan hit in kindergarten. I still said here for her in the register, and she still fought bullies just as well with insults instead of throwing hands. She was my best friend in the whole wide world and I must've been hers because she still didn't speak to anyone else at school.
I couldn't help but beam when I thought about how we adopted the title and wore it so tremendously well. We had grown to be two outcasts of our year, along with another select few. It was a dark, snowy, Friday fifth period in 2nd grade when Rowan and I sat on our own table, avoiding the noisy congregation of our classmates around their chosen seats.
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