Sunday, August 22, 2010

Summer school '02

I remember a girl who used to sit next to me in summer school biology class. She was medium-tallish, with dark skin and brown hair perpetually in a ponytail. I think she was Iranian, or a persuasion resembling such. She was pretty, the "popular" kind of pretty: the kind where, if you just saw her at first glance, you'd just assume she was with the in crowd. She was my friend in OAC biology. Because of my shyness, I didn't have many friends in that class to begin with.

She usually relied on me to explain some of the concepts being taught by the teacher. It was a rather tenuous proposition, as sometimes I myself would barely have a grasp on advanced concepts pertaining to chemical bonds or the ATP cycle. But I helped her the best I could. It wasn't as though she was extorting me, like the jock or the prom princess conniving to extract class notes and test scores from the school nerd. She was nice, genuinely nice; I remember that much. She was my friend.

I remember one story she told me during class, about how she and her father were horsing around (as far I as I can remember, her parents were separated) and she managed to gash her leg on a nearby door. I remember her pointing out the scar on the smooth skin of her bare thigh. She had quite long legs.

I remember getting one of her e-mails in my Hotmail account, her words truncated into "4s" and "Us", absolutely littered with textspeak. I tutored her as best as I could, armed with my less-than-absolute mastery of OAC biology and a natural inclination to help someone in need.

I don't remember her name. Part of me wants to call her Nadia. But I just don't remember.

She was my friend.

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