Today was a very good day for my friend, Azima. She's had a crush on this white guy named Dean since FOREVER. She's always talking about him, always in a good mood if she sees him in the hall, and would absolutely die if they started dating.
I'm not exactly sure what she really sees in Dean. Well, I guess I can't say that because I don't know him too well.
When Azima and I started being friends, she'd always talk nonstop about Dean, and the more and more she talked about him, the more and more I wanted to see this guy.
But I never did. We're in totally different houses. (Houses. Like, you know. Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? We have the same thing except that we go home instead of sleeping there. And we don't attend Hogwarts) And being in different houses is like being in different worlds.
Since this is New York City we're talking about, there's like, what, four white people in my grade? Maybe? So whenever we saw a white guy, I'd jokingly say, "Oh, look Azima! There's Dean!"
She would look at the white person and then laugh and be like, "Hell no, that ain't Dean."
I extended this game to adults as well. If I saw white woman, I'd say, "Hey, maybe that's Dean's mother. You know, your future mother-in-law?"
She'd shove me before looking at the woman. Then her eyes would pop out and she'd say, "If that's Dean's mom, then good-bye Dean!"
It went on like that. Me, pointing out every white person I could find and relating him/her to Dean, and Azima, shaking her head and saying it's not Dean.
But then one day...
Azima and I were standing outside of the school, just talking. Most people were gone by now. I saw this tall, wiry, blond-ish white boy walking up the street. I eyed him, eyebrows raised. I elbowed Azima and joked, "I hope that's not Dean."
She quickly looked away from his direction. "That's Dean."
I whipped my head back towards the kid, eyeing his every move. "Oh, my God. Really?"
She stomped her foot. "Mandy (our other friend) said that too! I don't know, am I being really weird for liking him? Is he that bad?"
I looked at Dean again. He was talking with a friend now.
"Well..." I start, really speculating the face. "He's not...ugly...he's just not...the best." I hoped this was a good enough answer. It was the truth. Then, as an afterthought, I added, "But I don't like the hair."
"Oh yeah, me neither," she said without hesitating. "I know that he might not be the best-looking guy, but he has a nice heart, you know? And he's in the advanced class. He's smart."
That weekend, I saw Dean. And he got a haircut. And he looked better. I told all this to Azima on the following Monday. She was excited to see him now.
The weeks went on, and then one day Azima seemed quiet. This was unusual for her, so I asked her, "What's wrong?"
She told me that she found out that Dean had a lot of girls that wanted to go to prom with him (Yeah I know. We're in 8th grade and we're having a prom. Weird). She was really upset, so I said, "Okay, you know what we're going to do? Next time we see Dean, I am going to shove you into him. You're going to apologize and say that you 'tripped.' Got it?"
She just laughed.
Well, our chance came and left after school that day. Azima chickened out.
But last Friday, Azima decided she was over Dean. "I found out that he cheated on my best friend."
Why, Dean? Why?
Azima was somber that day, strong in her decision to forget about him. She seemed heartbroken. Every few minutes, she'd say, "I can't believe he'd do that!" I would nod sympathetically.
And today, this morning, she comes in with her cheeks pink and her face glowing and looking so happy. Before she says anything, I say, "You saw Dean." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
She nods like a puppy.
"I bumped into him!!!"
"Oh my God, no you didn't!" I laugh. "On purpose?"
"No, by accident," She takes a deep breath before starting. "I was walking down the hall with two of my friends who are also his friends, so then Dean comes and they high-five and he smashed into me and grinned and said, 'Sorry, sweethart.'" My jaw dropped. "He said what?"
"He said, 'Sorry, sweethart!'"
"Oh, my God!" We squeal together, jumping up and down in our seats. "Did he smash you from the front or back?"
"And what'd you say?"
Azima blushed. "I said, 'It's okay.'"
I waggle my eyebrows at her. "Oh, it was more than okay..."
She throws her head back and laughs. "Hell, yeah!"
"So now you like him again?" I asked, knowing her answer.
"Ya!" She blushed as she said, "He kept looking at me. This is actually like the fifth time we bumped into each other, but he never looked at me then. Those were just in the hall between periods. This was in the morning. And he looked at me. And he kept looking at me."
"Yeah, probably cause you look so pretty today," our other friend said. (It was true. Azima really outdid herself today with her hair and her outfit)
The rest of the day, she was literally bouncing.
I wonder if Dean and her will ever actually have a relationship. And if they do, wow. Just, wow. :)