james was all tattoos and swearing. he would hitch a ride on my backpack, coasting behind me on his skateboard. the echo of our laughter would follow us down the hallway,
“HA HA HA
HA HA HA!”
james was filipino, but his hair was never jet black. last i remember it was blue, the color of midnight and velvet prom dresses.
he always was inviting me to his cocktail parties, folding colored fliers into fourths and slipping them into my backpack, but i never went. he and i didn’t have any friends in common.
i don’t know if we had anything in common.
still, i think james liked me. i pretended i didn’t know, and i’m not really sure why. maybe i was scared of him. i was scared he would show me a side of the world i would like better.
(THIS IS PART OF AN ONGOING SERIES OF PEOPLE I REMEMBER.)