Liz

The best relationship I have and have ever been in on a friendly level is one with a girl called Liz. She is incredible. Gentle and kind, hilarious and accepting. She is passionate and willing to go out on a limb for me. I adore her and I think I know why I love her so much.
Our relationship started oddly. She escorted me to the airport on the day of my vacation to Hawaii. Here's the catch: she had never spoken to me before. I fell in love with her spontaneity then and sent her a postcard from my vacation.
One day, when I had come to school with a relatively stuffed school bag, some children came to ask me what I had in it. I responded that I had a flight scheduled for Hawaii that evening, which meant that I had to bring my luggage to school and go straight to the airport afterwards. With this in mind, about seven of my peers offered to actually take me to the airport, she was one of them. Obviously, I accepted their kind offer.

When the final bell of the day rang, a few of those children and I met at the front of the school and waited for the rest of the kids. While we were waiting, a girl asked us where we were all congregating to go. One of the boys with me answered her. Her response stunned me a little bit, considering the fact that I didn't know her. She asked if she could join us. To the dismay and implicating dirty looks of my original group, I said yes. I thought "the more the merrier", right? She tagged along, pushing her bike with her to the Canada Line station. Along the way, I spoke to the people I knew, mainly avoiding her for the thought that she was strange, and so that I could retain my precious image with my group. A few of the kids I knew told me that that girl was very weird and that that was the opinion of the majority of the student body. I didn't doubt him. Not many people would invest the time or effort to take a stranger to the airport.

At the Canada Line station, part of the group decided to stay at the mall after eyeing a "ridiculously" good sale. One kid got a call from his parents ordering him back home. Another said he lived right around there and was going to go home to study for a test the next day. And then there were five. Two of them got on the Canada Line, but in the opposite direction. Now it was myself, my friend and the strange girl. My friend, for the sake of not being the only one left, made up some excuse as to why he had to leave, and left me with this bizarre child.
Naturally, I thought that she would excuse herself as well. Why would she want to go all the way to the airport with me?

To my surprise, she said she would take me all the way to my departure terminal because she knew that I would get lost. 

"You don't know me, how do you know if I have a good sense of direction, or if I'm gonna get lost?"

"I've heard stories about you - I know you get lost often. And I know that if you were to do this trip by yourself, you might not even make it on the right plane."

"Okay, I didn't realize people tell stories about me, so who are you."

"I'm Liz!" She said in the bubbliest, most enthusiastic voice I've ever heard.

And she went on to tell me about herself, and we got along quite well, despite being from totally different social standings in the school. She seemed to know a lot about me. Every time I would ask her how she knew all she did, she would reassure me that everyone else knew it too. She would go on to say that I would probably notice this if I wasn't so caught up in my own world. It was one of those situations where everyone knows your name, but you don't know anyones.

Anyways, we got to the airport, and Liz informed me that my flight would be at the sign that said "US Departures". 

"You must fly a lot" I said.

"No, I've actually never been on a plane in my life, but I have common sense, unlike you!" She stated.
I didn't want to argue with her over the common sense statement because I figured that everyone else thought so too. 

So we walked on over to US departures and, surely enough, there was my father. I introduced him to Liz and he told me to ask for her address so that I could at least send her a postcard. She had taken me to the airport after all.
As I said, I sent her that postcard, misspelling her name and some words in the process.

When I got back to school, I was greeted by a teacher who asked me where I had been for so long, and another teacher who asked me if my best male friend had locked me up in his basement for the duration of my trip. (I know, an inappropriate question from a teacher, even as a joke!)
After telling all my popular friends about the trip, asking my male friend why our teacher would feel the need to make said remarks, and asking all my teachers about what I had missed in the academic region of school, I found Liz (or, she found me.) She said hi, and it was as if she had opened herself up to me completely, telling me tons of stories about her family and life. Sadly, I didn't get to spend much time with her.
Even though we attended the same school, we had different cliques. Our friends were different, very different. Also, I didn't have many classes with her (just PE). Time, as well, was not on my side. There were only a few weeks of school left when I came back from the vacation. Regardless, she had claimed a spot in my heart.

I was quite pleased that school had drawn to a close because it meant that I had finally managed to rid myself of the clique, which I had inserted myself into. Considering that I wasn't coming back to the school next year, the last day of school was a freebie for me. I declined an invitation from my group in favor of having coffee with someone unaccepted by my circle. When that someone said some things that made me feel awkward, I excused myself from the coffee and went back to school. Going to my group was not an option because I really couldn't stomach having to look at them again, so I went back to the nearly deserted school. There was Liz, carrying a camera (to this day I have no idea what the camera was for) she approached me and said hi. I wasn't in the mood for chatting, or hanging out with her, so I told her that I had to go home.

"Where do you live?" she inquired.

"Downtown, far away. " I responded.

"Can I come?" I was dumbfounded and said yes.
She happened to have bus fare and asked me which bus I took. We walked to the stop and waited for the bus. Eventually, it came. We got on and talked. She turned my mood around. I went from sad and angry to happy and talkative. I told her about my extensive schooling, my extracurricular activities and about where I live. She talked about so many things that it would take too long for me to list them. When we got to my stop, we got off. I told her that I now had to transfer to another bus to make it all the way home.
"Maybe we should get something to eat." Stated Liz.
"Okay, where? I don't have much cash."
She looked around, saw a 7/11 and started heading in. I followed. We bought some high-quality corn dogs and chocolate bars, along with a disgustingly mixed Slurpee. It was a fabulous lunch.
Along the way, I pushed her to take a bunch of photos of anything and everything. I didn't want her camera to go to waste.
A few hours and a memory card full of photos later, we parted ways. I said that I should probably get going and she said that she probably should too. She used my phone to call her parents and tell them that she was alright and on her way home. I was astonished at how laid-back her parents were. They didn't seem to care that she hadn't told them about where she was. Anyways, she headed on over to the bus stop and I started walking home. It had been a really nice day. I had had great company and great climate.
That summer break wasn't plagued with baseball practices for Liz, and I, as usual, was completely free. We saw each other often. We went to the beach, to the pool and for countless picnics. I visited her at her place and she came to mine for dinners. It was a really nice break, during which, we made some truly unforgettable memories. The most prominent one? Second Beach Pool.
It was only the third or fourth time that Liz and I had gone out, but she was so open and honest with me that it felt like the thousandth for her. I was still hesitant. I didn't exactly want to pour my heart out to this bizarre girl. Anyway, that day at second beach pool made me love Liz for her kindness and question her sanity at the same time.
After that, we went out more. Quickly, we had visited just about every part of Vancouver together. Despite our differences in opinion about where to meet, we always managed to compromise. (She always succumbs to my wish of going to Downtown). We have done a lot, from pools to plateaus, we have seen just about everything there is to be seen.
I hope that we manage to stay friends for a long time and here's to 2.5 fabulous years of friendship. To the understanding and the memories we have shared. A good omen showed itself while I was writing this post - 10 000 views on this blog. Happy achievement, eh? Anyway, I can't wait to see Liz this Labour Day at Grouse Mountain to celebrate. Her birthday is always a great way to end summer break; to "go out with a bang". (I hope my cake turns out better this year than last.) I'll conclude my 50th post now, as I am at a loss for words and this conclusion is becoming long and lethargic. To end my substitute for a birthday card, I'll simply say: Happy birthday, Liz! Thanks for being a fabulous friend! I love you.