Old friends die hard

I don’t recall much about my elementary days, but one memory during that time will forever remain. I was in 4th grade when my classmates and teacher entered me into the cooking competition against my will. I won, of course, but I still felt violated. And after the laughter died down (it was the first time in school history that a guy won at a culinary contest), I became friendly with a girl. Our cooking tables were together at the time and I’d seen her around the school several times before, but I didn’t really know her.

Let’s call her Grace. And she had whipped up a tuna casserole, which was good for third place while my stuffed salmon with bacon bits took home the blue ribbon (I secretly loaded it with MSG to get back at my teacher). And as I reluctantly accepted the brand-new apron (nice prize, eh?), I rushed outside the Home-Ec room to avoid any further "ceremonies." And that’s where it all happened.

Grace came up to me and congratulated me "for the win." I smiled politely, but I couldn’t hide the fact that I was annoyed by it all. And I guess she noticed it too, because she quickly changed the topic. Grace said that she didn’t think my salmon was tops anyway and that she saw me smother it with Vetsin. I gasped. If she told my teacher, I could get detention (yup, meron din dito satin no’n) for the rest of the grading period. I begged her not to mention it to anyone and she agreed, in exchange for the apron I had just won. I bit my lip and handed it to her. In a little while, we became close.

How easy it is to make friends when you’re a little kid, isn’t it? I mean if there’s a youngster like you who lives next-door to where you sleep and shit, he’s already your buddy no questions asked. And if he happens to like your favorite soda as well, you’ll be best friends. Cute. And while Grace and I were quite fond of hanging out together, I was skeptical about showing it around because my guy friends might start teasing me.

Quite low I’m aware, but when you’re a scrawny pup in the 4th grade, those things matter a lot. Grace wore horn-rimmed glasses, had nice white teeth, a charming hairdo and sparkling eyes. And since I was still too young to think about sex and love (was I?), being chums with her was all very fine. We hiked through the fake "rocky mountains" in the school grounds; we split single cups of cherry sodas, we shared yoyo tricks and played sipa after classes until my mum (or hers) would beep the car horn rapidly — which simply meant that I should get my butt to the car in a hurry.

It’s quite extraordinary I tell you, because we weren’t even classmates. And usually, pupils in another section are complete strangers, mere acquaintances, or even enemies (at least in our school). But I found none of those in Grace. She was thoughtful (she gave me a friendship ring), supportive (she lent me her exam papers), and talented (she could touch her nose with her tongue). Besides, she read a lot — which made her interesting to talk to.

But I never did understand what happened to our relationship and I can only hope that she can. For some reason, we just stopped seeing each other. I became engrossed in basketball and the other kids while she began taking up sewing classes in Home-Ec. When we met in the halls, we would stop and chat a bit but pretty soon, it was reduced to simple nods. And the funny thing was that neither of us seemed to mind. I guess when you’re young lads and lasses, people who come and go are a simple way of life. We used to think that it happened everyday, which is probably why kids who lose a parent early in life aren’t usually horribly traumatized by it.

In any case, I really thought that was the end of Grace and the division of cherry sodas. Months later, I ran into her at the library and we started talking again like old buds. It was a happy reunion because I missed loitering around with her. People say that when you’re ten, your character changes every week. But my lady friend was still everything that she was the first time we met. And as I invited her to get a cherry soda, she smiled and took my hand and we raced to the canteen (the loser had to buy it). And as we shared that cup, I began to realize how nice it was to be friends with someone you really like.

We never did become close pals again, and that was one of the last drinks we ever shared together. But the memories of the girl, who became my best friend for almost six months, continue to make me smile to this day. And I have come to believe that even though a lot of people say that being friends with the opposite sex is a toughie, the great ones who enter your life make it all worth it — even if you don’t see each other anymore.

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Email ˆ reuben_matthew@hotmail.com