What’s Left Behind

by Haley Kleine

I watched as my old best friends sat together at lunch while I sat with a group of fellow fifth graders to whom I could not relate. I saw Noah with his new friends, Lukas and Moses, but my eyes were still focused on Kira and Paivand. There they sat, giggling, while I feigned interest in the conversation my classmates were carrying on. In my mind, Noah still sat next to Paivand and Kira, with Jazzy and me seated across from them. It was the five of us who used to talk about soccer games or Neopets at lunchtime, not paying any attention to the rest of the cafeteria. But that was fourth grade, and this was fifth.

Jasmine Eppelsheimer moved to Berkeley in 1998 where she started first grade at Jefferson Elementary School. She was in my class, along with my newest best friend, Paivand Jalalian. Even though I’d known Paivand since I was two years old, I’d hated her in Kindergarten because I thought all my friends would like her better than me. My fear carried into first grade, but this time my attention shifted to Jasmine, who liked to be called Jazzy. Jazzy was adopted, older than everyone else in the first grade, and always wore a soft cheetah printed hat with red satin lining. Jazzy made everyone laugh, especially herself, so naturally I felt threatened. All of the first graders loved her, and though I fought it all the way through second grade, we were friends by my eighth birthday.

We made quite the pair: a short little white girl with long, straight blonde hair and a tall black girl with short wavy hair. Jazzy and I lived within several blocks of each other and spent endless hours at each other’s houses. In fourth grade, Jazzy’s mom, Rhonda, would pick us up after school every Tuesday and take us to Andronico’s. We would race down the aisles trying our best to jump only on the white tiles on the floor (if you touched a black one, you had to kiss Moses), finally ending up at the Krispy Kreme donuts. We each picked out our favorite donut while Rhonda finished shopping. Once we were at Jazzy’s apartment, we entered a new world where Jazzy was Mario and I was Luigi. Other days we would lock ourselves in my garage, also known as “Barbieland”, for hours. We arranged cardboard boxes on stools and shelves all over the garage, each one a different Barbie’s room. We created a new story each week, and every so often we allowed ourselves a break from that world to take the dolls outside into the fresh air. Once outside, we sometimes abandoned Barbie to pick up our bikes and ride in circles, maneuvering a backyard not meant for our purposes at all.

Jazzy and I weren’t the only ones who found new friends when her family moved here. Jazzy’s dad, David and my dad, Rick, bonded over their common love of the guitar. Rhonda and my mom became friends, as well as Jazzy’s sister, Kirsten and my sister, Kelsey, who were in the same grade at Berkeley High. Never before had my family found something like the Eppelsheimers, and we knew we never would again. On July 3^rd, 2002, they left Berkeley forever, starting a new life in North Dakota. The back window of the Eppelsheimers’ white Volvo disappeared into the traffic as I waved goodbye to my best friend through eyes drowning in salty tears.

Fifth grade was nothing like fourth grade. I didn’t have any friends in my class, and my best friend no longer lived five minutes away from me. I sat at a table with Kelsey, Tahirah, and Mary. We all got along, and I started spending more and more time with Kelsey. But these friends felt like friends of convenience, not friends for life. Noah seemed to have found his own friends for the moment and Kira and Paivand seemed to want nothing to do with me, even though we’d all been best friends the year before. Every time I found myself watching them at lunch, I wondered if I was the reason for their laughter: sad, pathetic, best friendless Haley.

The months passed slowly, full of lonely lunches, but eventually it was time for the biggest field trip of the year: a visit to the Chabot Space and Science center to simulate a journey to Mars. When we arrived, everything seemed so real. There were spinning doors we had to go through to get to the space center on Earth, and all sorts of computers and equipment on the shuttle that was going to land on Mars. I did my job perfectly, just as we’d practiced in class, writing notes to report each bit of information I received from the other station. I had just done my part to make a mission to Mars successful and on the bus ride back to school I could hardly contain my excitement. That was until I saw that the only seat left on the bus was directly in front of Kira and Paivand. They didn’t even bother to look up as they talked to each other about the field trip

“And when we had to go in that little tiny room. It was so dark and I was like, ‘I’m not going in there’ but that lady made me go, and then she pressed the button and I was like, ‘Oh, whoa, space station.’” I knew exactly how Paivand felt, but I couldn’t just jump into their conversation, not after the way they’d been shunning me every day.

Instead, Kira spoke, “Oh I know! They should really find a better way to make a door like that. Like, so what if that’s how it is in real life, I’m not an astronaut! So why should I have to do it? Totally not fair.”

“Yeah, but when we landed on Mars and all the red dust flew up around us that was, like, so cool. And my job was really easy, so it was totally awesome.”

“Well, you were just really good at your job. Mr. Harris said so when we were practicing in class.”

“Oh yeah, he did!”

“Told ya.”

The conversation was pointless and silly, and I couldn’t listen to it any longer. I turned in my seat so they could both see my eyes, to show them that I was serious. They noticed the shadow of my head and looked up. I said the only thing I was thinking in that moment, the only thing that summarized how I’d felt about them for the entire school year.

“You guys are bitches.” I sat back down so my feet were fully on the floor of the bus, feeling the anger pump my heart faster and faster. Neither of them said anything, and I continued the bus ride in silence, walked back to school in silence, and lived my life in silence, never telling anyone what had happened.

The next day my mom tiptoed into my bedroom, “Halo, I just got off the phone with Kira’s mom.” She knew. “Allison said that Kira was up all night sobbing and she refused to tell her what was wrong.” Maybe she didn’t know. I could pretend I didn’t know either. I could even pretend that I cared if Kira was ok. My face twisted into a grimace that I thought resembled concern. “But then after a little bit, Kira finally told her. She said that you called her and Paivand, um, ‘bitches’. Halo, you know that’s not ok. We’ll talk about this later, but for right now, Allison wants you to write a letter to Kira, to tell her that you’re sorry. I think you should write one to Paivand too.”

I nodded through my tears; I hated getting in trouble. Once my mom had left the room, I got my pencil and a piece of paper, and, starting with Kira’s letter, began the longest lie I have ever told. I wrote lines expressing how “deeply sorry” I was and what a “great friend” she’d been to me. I told her how much I “missed” her and Paivand and that if I ever hurt her this much again, I’d “never forgive myself”. Each sentence made me angrier, and made me regret my actions on the bus less and less.

In Elementary School, Iceland was the coolest place to have your birthday party, so by definition, Kira’s 9^th birthday was pretty cool. Jazzy and I skated around in circles, racing each other, or Noah, to the blue and red painted lines now fading into the ice. When I fell flat on my butt, Jazzy’s laugh bounced from wall to wall, echoing for several seconds after she’d stopped. Sitting on the ice, I scraped a snowball together from the ice shavings along the wall. My stick-thin arms provided little power, but my aim was good enough to hit Jazzy right on the chest. I was on my feet quickly, accelerating away from the ever-laughing Jazzy, who was now out for revenge. She chased me to the middle of the ice where the adults were leading the kids in the Hokey Pokey.

“This is lame, let’s keep skating,” Jazzy suggested, informally ending the chase that had been very much alive only moments ago.

“Totally lame. Let’s go.”

We continued skating, hugging the wall, and pointing at our friends every time they had to put their butt in the middle. Kira, Paivand, and Noah put their hands in the middle, their feet, their heads, and when it was time for the tongues, they all shouted, “Yuh pud yuh tug in ad yuh thake it all abot!” Jazzy and I laughed at the childish dance, glad to be off on our own, like big kids.

Kira’s 9^th birthday has long since passed, but the party at Iceland is still alive in my head. The image of Jazzy and me off to the side, with everyone else in the middle stays for a moment, until it all changes. Jazzy fades away, off to North Dakota, and I can see exactly what’s left; Kira, Paivand, and Noah are doing the Hokey Pokey in the middle of the ice. I’m still hugging the wall, watching the dance, but now I’m alone, and I have nobody to laugh with. That’s when my brain really kicks into action and I realize: I brought this upon myself.

June finally came, and fifth grade was over. My family and I packed our minivan full of tents and warm clothes, in preparation for a camping trip in Yellowstone. After several days of driving, we arrived at the park; the Eppelsheimers had already settled in. I ran to Jazzy and when my arms wrapped around her, I noticed she’d gotten even taller. After all the hugs and cries of “We missed you guys so much!” everything began to feel normal again. That night my dad taught Jazzy and me how to gather kindling for the fire and how to arrange the logs in a pyramid. He demonstrated how to get the fire going by lying on his stomach and blowing on the twigs that were already beginning to burn. “Slow, steady breaths,” he told us. We did our best to provide an even flow of air to the kindling, but every so often Jazzy would cross her eyes, twisting her lips, and my breath would spasm as I rolled onto my back, giggling uncontrollably. The rest of the week passed quickly, like an afternoon with Barbies in my garage, but by the end I realized that the worst part of the trip was saying goodbye to our friends again. And this time, it was our final goodbye.

The summer ended, and middle school began, meaning a new school, new people, new classes, and a new soccer season. At our first practice, we were all excited to see each other and tell stories from the summer, but my only goal was to find Kira and Paivand. As always, they had arrived early and were already passing together. I walked over slowly, taking deeper breaths with each step. “Um…Hi guys. Can I say something?”

They looked at each other, and Paivand nodded, leading Kira to speak, “Yeah sure, I guess.”

“I just want to say…well, I’m really sorry. When I wrote you that letter, I wasn’t sorry, I was still really mad at you guys, but now I am sorry, and I just wanted to tell you that because I lied before, and I was mean to both of you, so I’m sorry for all of it, really, really sorry…and I just wanted to tell you that.”

Again, they locked eyes and, after a long pause, as if she were deciding how to respond, Kira said, “Ok.”

“Um…Ok. Bye.” That seemed to be all there was to say. As I walked back towards the rest of the team, I dared to look back. Paivand passed the ball back to Kira, glanced up, smiled. Looking into her eyes, so many thoughts passed between us and without realizing it, I was smiling back.