#jenla

Their homework for the day in English class was to use something to describe their best friend and compare them to their own description of themselves – an example given in class being Pip’s generous usage of ‘angel’ to describe Damien, who had choked on his own saliva at his words because Pip had just used ‘angel’ to describe the ‘Antichrist’; a strangely ironic description, give or take, but he had seemed so adamant on using it, and when he was asked why, he had actually listed good reasons – good reasons that had sent Damien spiraling down his seat hoping to melt into a puddle.

The breeze picked up, and Jenny Simon took a moment, tucking her hair behind her ears as the wind whistled all around her. The grass ruffled almost noiselessly, the leaves in the trees all around ruffling and shifting against each other to make a sort of natural symphony along with the occasional birdsong – one that made Jenny want to sleep, but she didn’t dare sleep, no. It’s her only unfinished homework for the day, and more than anything she wanted it over with in order to continue reading her favorite book before bed.

At the top of the paper, there were only a few sentences.

My best friend is Lola Branwen. We’ve been best friends since first grade, so, if I were to describe Lola using objects or concepts, I’d use

It stopped after ‘use’.

Jenny frowned, and inhaled deeply again. She didn’t know how to describe Lola anymore, because Lola’s… Lola’s different now, she realized then and there, and for a moment, she closes her eyes, and remembers.

She remembers Lola, in the fourth grade.

Fourth grade Lola was a brat, that much was certain, but then again, nearly all of them were brats in fourth grade – Eric Cartman notwithstanding. Fourth grade Lola used to be in love with the emotional, angst-ridden writers and singers, drowning in songs of heart-wrenching pain and grief, in novels of emotional turmoil.

Jenny remembers sitting on Lola’s bed, listening to her ramble about the latest young adult writer, and while she had wanted dearly with all her heart for Lola to stop talking about them, she couldn’t find it in her to tell her to stop. Lola’s eyes had been alight with a passion, a strange, flickering flame in her that had made Jenny stop and stare, transfixed by the light in her brown eyes.

It had left a strange feeling in her insides, back then.

“Go, go, South Park Cows! South Park Cows, South Park Cows!”

Jenny opened her eyes again.

In her cheerleading uniform, Lola practiced her routines with Annie, her partner, a little far away from where Jenny was sitting, but not far enough that she couldn’t see them clearly, and together the two performed the partner routines in sync, since the rest of the team weren’t around for them to perform the group routines. Jenny noted the way Lola’s movements seemed to be the opposite of her usual, being quick and sprightly now compared to her usually sluggish movements when not practicing cheerleading, and with a frown, she observed.

“And a lift-!” Annie stretched out her pompoms and one of her legs as Lola lifted her nearly effortlessly, and Jenny fought back the urge to cheer for her best friend as Annie did a front flip off of Lola’s hands to perform a cartwheel and then a split. With the routine over, Annie cheered, and threw her arms around Lola, saying, “That was great, Lola! We should totally show the others!”

Lola smiled softly, and Jenny’s stomach wrenched, strangely enough. “Maybe next practice, Annie. I’m feeling pretty tired, and Jenny’s still waiting for me, you know?”

“Oh?” Annie looked up and around until her eyes fell on Jenny, leaning against a tree, and Jenny suddenly felt like she was being scrutinized on the spot, sweating a little, until Annie grinned and winked at Jenny. “Oh, okay, okay, gotcha! I’ll just head on home then, okay? See you tomorrow Lola, see you tomorrow, Jenny!” The last part had been screamed over a distance of a thirty meters, and with a wave, Annie darted off in the direction of her house, leaving Lola to slug her way over to where Jenny had been waiting.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Jenny answered. Lola’s demeanor had immediately reverted back into her usual – morose and sleepy, judging from the way she stretched.

Eleventh grade Lola was very much unlike fourth grade Lola, finding solace in the quiet, nature themed poetry she found in the darker and dustier libraries of the neighboring towns rather than the emotional anguish of the likes of young adult writers like she had, years ago. This Jenny knew very well, having grown up with her and everyone else in the town – save for the likes of Estella and Charlotte, and Gary and Damien, maybe. They were outliers.

Lola flashed her sleepy smile at Jenny, one that sent Jenny’s stomach on vacation to Orlando for a few weeks. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“You were doing backflips with Annie, of course I was waiting long!” Jenny harrumphed in an attempt to hide the fact that her best friend’s smile made her want to fly upwards and never return. “And to top it all off, I still haven’t finished my homework!”

Lola took a glance at Jenny’s homework, still mostly empty, and with a laugh and a twinkle in her eye, she replied, “That’s okay. You can finish it tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Jenny pouted. “I still have a book to read.”

Lola considered this for a few minutes, but soon she just smiled, holding out a hand to Jenny to help her up. “You could stay up late to read.”

“Scandalous; I’d be losing beauty sleep,” Jenny teased as she stood up, gathering her things. “Oh, the things you imply, Lo.”

It was then that Lola’s eyes suddenly blazed brightly – something that startled Jenny into remembering fourth grade Lola, with her passionate eyes and burning fire. “You don’t need it.”

“Wh-wha-“

“You don’t need any more beauty sleep,” Lola told her in a determined tone, her sleepy demeanor falling away for that moment to make way for her fiery gaze as she gripped Jenny’s shoulders. “You look beautiful already, okay? You don’t need any more beauty sleep.”

Jenny stammered wordlessly before turning bright red, a flame burning at the pit of her stomach. “I-I- um- that is- o-okay?”

“Good,” The fire died away, and soon Lola was back to her sleepy self, yawning as she stretched. “Geez, I’m tired. Let’s go home now, ‘kay?”

“’K-kay,” Jenny stuttered, and with a sleepy smile, Lola took her hand in hers, and together they walked down the street, hand in hand.

Mental note: fire. Fire best describes Lola.

-=-=-=-

My best friend is Lola Branwen. We’ve been best friends since first grade, so, if I were to describe Lola using objects or concepts, I’d use fire.

She’s like all sorts of fire. Sometimes she’s a candle’s flame, soft and small, but sometimes, when she really likes something, she gets this look in her eye. It’s like someone set a bonfire in her eyes because when she gets that look in her eye, she’s unstoppable, like wildfire. She surprises everyone when she blazes through, which doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, she’s bright and fiery and beautiful.

My best friend is sleepy nearly all the time, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t a fire. Dying embers don’t die out immediately – if you fan the flames, you can get another fire going. That’s my best friend Lola. She used to be a bright fire all the time, and she still is, but now she knows better – she knows to keep it low until needed. She knows that a fiery passion is important, but only in the right places.

I wish I could say I was a fire, but I’m more of a rock. Stubborn and unyielding. I guess you could say sometimes I refuse to change. But Lola? She changed. She grew up into this fire that even I can’t control myself, but she can control herself, and that’s what makes us so different. In a way, she grew up, and I didn’t.