Walking home from school, I looked down and saw that the leaves had fallen. Has it really been this long? No one ever mentions it, now. I thought they would never forget-but people are self-centered, and it stopped affecting them, I guess.
I remember the first time I saw you. Drinking your shake on a park bench, and I couldn’t repress a shiver. I don’t know where I got the guts to do it, but I walked up and stood over you. You glanced up, squinting against the bright summer sun, and smiled at me. I sat down, and asked “Hey, don’t you go to my school?”

You never did answer me, you know. You just grinned at me, and I could feel myself flush. I hoped you didn’t see it.
We were wild that summer. We were always together, always laughing at something. We didn’t even know what it was, sometimes. We would just make eye contact and both start giggling. The few times we didn’t break into laughter, it quickly became strained and awkward, and we both looked away, blushing. Our parents were happy we finally had a friend our age to talk to, of course. I had stayed to myself before you, and you had spent a lot of time with your little sister before me. Then we were only spending time with each other. I remember how shy we were when we first met. We would brush against each other, pretend that neither of us noticed. We held hands, once, walking through the streets. I can’t remember how it happened. Neither of us said anything, and when we saw someone we knew, we dropped them. I never mentioned it after that day, and neither did you.

It seems so easy to blur us both into one unit, the way we were during those first few months. But we weren’t. We weren’t really that alike at all. You were always sweeter than me. I was harsh. Our hands were the most different things. Yours looked so soft and white, nails trimmed. Mine always had dirt under my bitten-off nails, and they were always rough; dry skin on the verge of cracking.

We knew what we wanted for our birthdays. We found out what day was in the middle of them, and planned a sleepover, just for us. It was awkward right from the beginning. We would glance at each other, then glance away almost at once. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I always was the rougher one. I grabbed your hand and forced you to look me in the eye-but then I froze. I didn’t even know what I was trying to do, then. But I was desperate to do something. I could feel your heartbeat pulsing through your wrist, and I couldn’t figure out who’s was more frantic-yours or mine.
It was bound to happen eventually, you know. We couldn’t have kept on going like we were, pretending that neither of us knew.

I don’t know whether you moved forward or I did. But then I was kissing you, and it felt right.

School started again. We were walking down the corridor, holding hands, when I first heard it. Dykes.
I ignored it, of course. I had never seen the kid before in my life. I wouldn’t even have noticed him, if not for that single hissed word, the flash of bright hate in his eyes.

We were in the park where we had first met, sitting under a tree. You had turned your head towards me and I had just touched your lips with mine when I heard it. The hollow thunk of a rock striking wood. The stone lay on the ground beside us. I saw it, understood it, but didn’t have the heart to tell you, to break that trusting light in your eyes. I guess I should have.
I fought with my mother on Wednesday. I can’t really remember what it was about; probably about you. She was always after me to make more friends. She probably suspected, saw the way we looked at each other. I skipped school.
They caught you, walking home alone. I should have been there. I wonder, if I had been, would they still have attacked? Would it have been worse for me, to see you like that? I guess I’ll never know. I try not to hate myself for it, but it’s hard, sometimes. Knowing I’ll never see you again.

I went to their trial. They got off innocent-said they didn’t know what they were doing, that it was an accident. That’s bull. No one, least of all you, could take that and live.

I visited you, yesterday. I try to go every few weeks, at least. They say going more than that wouldn’t be healthy, so I stay away. I just sit, usually. Watch the leaves fall, and wonder what you’re doing now. If you’re doing anything now.
Maybe I’ll be okay in another year or so. They say teen romances are like that-passionate and short-lived. Maybe that’s what this was. I almost hope that it was; it would be easier to forget, then. To chalk it up to one more experience I needed to have.