I Love Rain

The title of this blog has absolutely nothing to do with what I'm going to write, but I just figured I'd point it out. It's been raining and foggy for a few days now, and I love it. Especially when I'm in school and it's raining. I know that doesn't make much sense, but somehow it makes the school day easier to deal with. It makes things feel more comfortable. I should have worn my pajamas to school, or something. That would have been really nice.
Speaking of school, we started reading Catcher in the Rye in English class, and I'm almost halfway done. It's not due until Thursday, but whatever. I really like it. People either love it or hate it, my father being one of the latter, along with most of my friends. I really like it though. I noticed that there was no plot summary to be found, not on the back, and not on the inside either, but I think that's because there is no plot. I mean, there's obviously something going on the whole time, but the story is not centered around an event or problem like most books are. The book is more about the main character than anything else. I happen to like him a lot, too, even if he says, "I really am" way too much. It adds to his quirky character. I tend to like when characters have weird habits about them because it makes them seem more real. Because I doubt there's a person alive who doesn't have one bad habit, at the bare minimum.
This post was definitely not supposed to be about all that, but I got off track for a moment. I do that a lot. What I really wanted to write about was this strange and almost unsettling thought I had the other night. I went out with my dad to get dinner, and I don't mean a sit down restaurant and all that. I mean a take out place. I was sitting in the car because I don't really get out unless I have to. I'm there more for the car ride than anything else. So my dad went in Subway to pick up food for my sister, and when he came back he said he ran into the mother of my best friend for fives years. All through elementary school, this girl and I, we were best friends. Inseperable. I mean, my absolute best friends lives in Hamden, and my mom is best friends with her mom, and my sister is best friends with her sister, but for those reasons I consider her family. This girl whose mother my dad ran into, she was my best friend at home. Plus, it is possible to have more than one best friend. We never had a big fight, ever, I don't think. We were polar opposites for the most part, but we didn't even argue when we both had a crush on the same guy in fifth grade. We just giggled over him together. So I don't really understand why we stopped talking, but it happened. She stopped sitting next to me on the bus and I stopped calling her up. Pretty soon I stopped smiling, and she stopped making eye contact. We barely saw each other except in homeroom. This is how most of middle school and freshman year of high school went. I hung out with her for a full day one time, before 8th grade, because I said I missed her. She was going to only stay for two hours, but she ended up being with me the whole day. But still, after that one time, it was like nothing happened. We were back to ignoring each other.
Only when the mother of one of our mutual friends died did she talk to me. She called me first thing, but I wasn't home. Gosh, I wish she had my cell phone number or something. But she didn't and she just told my mom to inform me of her calling. It felt good to know I was the first one she thought to call. Later that night, she IMed me and said she wanted to talk. I was happy, but I thought, if it takes tragedy to get her to speak with me, then maybe I should forget those five years.
Recently I had a reunion sort of thing, with my old elementary school best friends, and she was there. We hit it off fine, and after a few minutes, it was like nothing changed. I told her some things I had only told my close friends. It was a fun time.
The next day she got on the bus and sat next to one of the other girls who was there, and they started talking and laughing. That was good.
But we haven't talked since. And when my dad told me she ran into her mother, and we drove past her house on the way home, I realized:
Sometimes I wish she was my best friend instead of my best friend I have now, from school. I'm not counting the bestbest friend from Hamden. I mean, my other one, the one from school. It's her birthday today too, the best friend from school. Gosh, I know that sounds horrible, but it's true. Half the time I'm kind of aggravated by her. I don't know why. I feel bad because our whole friendship revolves around her telling me stupid marching band stories about people I don't know and frankly, don't care about, and then her asking me about Tyler. I really try to tell her about other things, but when she asks about Tyler, I have to answer. Just the other day, the first thing she said was, "Did you see him today?"
I feel bad always talking to her about him, but she asks sometimes, for God's sake. And I have to sit through her stories. So it's an even trade. But it's nothing like the friendship I had for five years, back in elementary school.
I'm just being honest.