A New Beginning in the Spring

“I really don't want to go.” I told Emily.

“Oh, just sit down so I can do your makeup.” I reluctantly sat down at her vanity. She Had a million eye shadow pallets and tons of lipsticks. She began by smothering foundation all over my face. 

“These dances are boring. They never play good music and the music that they do play is way too loud.”

“It’s the last Spring Fling we will have. Besides, you will have me there. You need to get out more instead of just staying home and reading all the time. Now close your eyes so I can do your eyeshadow.” Emily is much more grown up than I. She started wearing makeup before me, she goes out more than I do. I would like to be like her, to know what I am doing, and to have people not laugh at me for making obscure literary references. I love books, but none of the people I hang out with read them. She began doing the eyeliner, my least favorite part. I don’t mind getting all made up, I like to look pretty. I just never like the way these dances are. I can not stand the loud and ugly pop music that they blast out of the speakers. One of my greatest wishes is to attend a ball like the ones I read about in Jane Austen novels. Everyone gets dressed up elegantly, gentlemen sign up on your dance cards, classical waltzes are being played. No one even dances at the Spring Fling, they just bounce up and down to the beat of the song. 

Emily finished my makeup, and handed me my dress. It was a black dress covered with a pattern of pink flowers. I went to the bathroom, slipped it on and put on my black ballet flats. I arranged my hair in a simple half up half down. When I came back to Emily’s bedroom, Emily grabbed the car keys and her purse and we both walked out to the car. I secretly grabbed my book. 

As we pulled into school, we saw the other kids pouring into the gym. I could already feel the beat of the amps. Emily and I entered the decorated gym. There were paper flowers and streamers all across the walls. A D.J was sitting at the farthest wall. A boy was dancing in the center of the room while a group of people surrounded him chanting, “oh oh oh oh oh!” 

“Come on, let’s start dancing!” Emily grabbed my hand and started swaying to the music.” I reluctantly followed suit. We danced like this for about fifteen minutes, until Emily suggested that we go to the snack table. My head had begun to hurt terribly, and it made me feel sick to my stomach. I told her I wasn’t hungry, and I wanted to go to the restroom. As I opened the exit of the gym, I looked back and she was talking to a group of people from her soccer team. 

When I got outside to the cool spring air, I felt better instantly. I breathed in the beautiful scent of spring, flowers and trees, everything full of life. Perhaps instead of going to the bathroom I would just stay out here, I thought. I had my book with me, so I walked to the low rock wall beside the gym to sit down and read. When I got there, I saw a boy with curly black hair reading there already. “Oh!” I said, way too loud. My first instinct was to walk away, but instead I just started babbling. “I’m sorry, I thought that I could just sit here and read, buy if you are sitting here and reading then I won’t read here because I don’t want to disturb your solitude. You look very peaceful and I am literally disturbing your peace right now so I should leave. I don’t know why I am even still here, I’m so sorry.” I felt my entire face turn red. My school was really big, and I don’t know everyone. So it is no surprise why I have never seen this boy in my life.

The boy smiled and closed his book. “It is no big deal,” he said. “You can stay here, I don’t mind.”

“Really?” I sat down on the stone wall beside him. “What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Emerson.” He told me.

“Heh, like Ralph Waldo?”

“Yeah..”

I glanced at his book, “What are you reading?”

“Oh… The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“By Victor Hugo? I haven’t read that one, but I’ve read his book Les Miserables.”

“Really?” He turned to me a bit more. His smile was a bit to the side, “What kind of books do you like?”

“Oh, I prefer historical fiction as well as fantasy. I have been really into the Gothics recently, though.”

“Wow! I just read Frankenstein.” He said.

“Oh my goodness, I love that book! Especially that part where the creation is looking through the window. When I read that part, I had shivers running down my spine.”

“And when the creation was standing in the corner.” Emerson added, gleefully.

We spent about fifteen more minutes talking about Frankenstein, then we started talking about Ralph Waldo Emerson. He said his parents are huge fans of Emerson. I told him that I was too. We kept finding new topics to converse about. It was the first time in my entire life that I had ever found someone as mesmerized by books as I am. The taste of each word in your mouth, the feeling of the paper between your fingers, and the scent of an old dusty book. There was even a moment in which we both handed our books to each other to sniff. He even sniffed books the correct way. Usually when I ask my friends to sniff the books I am reading they just leave it closed and sniff it. Emerson actually fanned through the book in order to get the full experience. 

We also spoke about poetry together. The only thing that I could find we disagreed on was Walt Whitman. Emerson said that he loves Whitman’s poems, and I told him that I am not a huge fan of free verse.

Emerson pulled a small notepad out of his pocket, “I always keep a notepad and pencil with me so I can write down all of my ideas.” He wrote down a poem by Walt Whitman called Oh Captain! My Captain!, and handed it to me. After reading it, I had to admit it was good. 

“I loved the cadence at the end of the poem, it gave it such a solemn finish.”

“Yes!” he was excited now. “I too, love a nice cadence. You don’t really get that with free verse poetry. Not that that was a free verse, but you get my point. I encourage you to read some more of his poems, the ones that are free verse.”

“Okay,” I smiled at him, he smiled too, we held each other’s gaze for a moment. As if we both understood one another. This was all so amazing, I had finally found someone who feels the same way about books as I do. 

“Uhhh,” Emerson said, ruffling his hair. “Do you drink coffee?” He turned his head to the side.

“Yes.” I told him.

“Well, would you like to come to a cafe with me sometime? There is this cafe that a lot of poets and musicians and people who love the arts go to. And we all sort of do our thing there. It is a place for free thinkers.”

“That sounds amazing.” I told him. It really did. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Emily emerged. “Hey, that’s where you are.” She exclaimed. 

“I have to go.” I told Emerson. “ She’s my ride home. It was splendid to meet you.”

“How will we meet again?” He asked. I wrote down my telephone number on the notepad, and he wrote down his on another sheet of paper and tore it out. We were not sure how to say goodbye to each other, so we did an awkward handshake and I got into Emily’s car. On the way home, I realized that I still had his poem enclosed within my hand. As soon as I got home I put it in my box of special things. 

He called me the next day, and we met up at that cafe. I met a lot of people there that also shared my affinity for the written word. They became some of my closest friends, and Emerson might have become a very very dear friend to me… Emily and I grew apart a bit, we still greeted each other in the hallways every now and then, but I had finally found my true friends.