What Cannot be Forgotten - part one (standard:drama, 2279 words)
Author: Anonymous	Added: Sep 18 2001	Views/Reads: 3339/2362	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is my first attempt at writing, so any feedback would be much appreciated. It's the coming-of-age story of a guy named John and his best friend.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

she had a place all to herself in the Bronx. It was a bit shady, but 
ten times better for her than living with her parents. Both of Alma’s 
parents were immigrants, making her second generation, which makes for 
not only a generation, but also a culture gap. Her mother, Asako, was 
from Japan, a truly beautiful, but fierce woman. Her father, Jorge, 
came from Spain, he was mild mannered and old fashioned when it came to 
his daughters. So Alma, being quite the mutt, was a very unusual 
looking girl. Some people would call her face strikingly attractive, 
but I didn’t think much of it. 

While making my way towards the queensboro plaza subway stop, I thought
about how I came to know Al. She was always the uncool kid at school, 
skipping class, and getting in fights even though she rarely spoke to 
anyone. She actually ended up spending most of her time in ISS, that 
is, in school suspension. Because of that, most of the kids at school 
wrote her off as just another “underage punk-ass thug.” To be honest, I 
would have done the same if it weren’t for one thing: Al was smart. 
Really and truly smart. Brilliant. Incredible. For a girl who never 
went to class, she knew plenty. She never had to work at it either, 
which had me jealous. She was in all the advanced classes with me, but 
only bothered to show up for the quizzes and exams, which she aced 
without any trouble. Her ability to succeed without even trying really 
pissed most people off, but I wanted to get in on it. I figured she had 
some secret she was hiding. Anyway, to get back to how I met her, 
during a lecture about social justice in our current events class, Al 
suddenly stood up and started to speak. The girl who never said 
anything unless she had to was standing in her combat boots with her 
crazy hair and strange clothes to argue with our teacher. What was even 
more baffling was that she could really speak clearly and eloquently. 
Everyone was shocked and couldn’t speak, even the teacher, who didn’t 
ask her to calm down. Instead, she talked throughout the class, 
standing there at the back of the room. When the bell rang, everyone 
watched her as she left. I was the first one to move after her, 
following her outside. 

“Hey, that was an impressive speech,” I said, while jogging to catch up
to her. 

“Think so? Or are you being a smartass?” She turned to look me in the
eyes with an intensity that outright frightened me. 

“Honestly, I think you had a real point.” 

“I’m glad someone does. What’s your name?” I was surprised she asked me.
Everyone in our class knew me by name, as I’ve always enjoyed the 
luxury and curse of popularity. I can’t say that I asked for it, I just 
seemed to get along with everybody. 

“I’m John.” I answered her trying to be friendly. “I just wanted to
introduce myself to the class genius.” 

“John, eh? I don’t know if you’re sincere or not, but I guess it doesn’t
matter, since you’re one of the first people to talk to me in this 
school. My name is Alma.” At this point, people were looking at us 
funny. The most popular guy at school was having a conversation with 
the class degenerate. We both picked up on it and started to stare 
right back at our audience. Alma’s eyes scared everyone away. 

“Hey, tell me why they’re scared of me...” she said, looking at me with
a look that reflected true curiosity. I couldn’t believe that she 
didn’t already know. 

“Uh, I dunno,” was all I could say. 

“You’re lying, but I won’t press you now. You must have some real reason
to come up and talk to the class outcast. 

“Well.... ah.... I just wanted to know how you manage to do so well in
all our classes when you’re hardly ever there.... I mean, if you’re not 
there to get the info, how can you get an A?” 

“If you think that knowledge comes from sitting in an uninteresting
class, you’re screwed.” Her reply shocked me. Even more shocking was 
how she continued: “You want to make the most of your time here? Then 
don’t show up. Cut algebra with me tomorrow and I’ll show you. That’s 
only if you want to, though. Don’t waste your time if you’re freaked 
out by the idea.” I took what she was saying as a challenge. 

“I’m not freaked out by anything, I’ll meet you under the front stairs
at the start of class.” I think I said that a little too quickly, 
because she laughed and said: 

“Good for you, then I’ll see you later.” She was gone before I could say
goodbye. 

I actually kept my word and skipped class with Alma. It was the best
time of my school career. We spent the day poking around the city. It 
was amazing how Alma could just strike up conversation with people in 
elevators and on the sidewalk. She was really different than how she 
seemed at school, and on that day, I knew she would become my best 
friend. 

That was five years ago, when we were in seventh grade. Yup, Al had a
clear understanding of social justice at age 12. She was so advanced 
for her grade because she initiated all of her own learning through 
people with experience and books by people with experience. That girl 
must have known every library in New York City, because she took me to 
a different one every chance she got. We got books on all of our 
subjects, and set our own pace to learn. Since I wasn’t exactly an 
idiot, our pace was well ahead of the classes’ and we were able to 
enjoy ourselves. We were able to grow up and learn in the public 
libraries’ of the city, and after time, we started to depend on each 
other for company. The whole while, I became more popular, and she more 
outcast. Strange, but that was the way it worked out. 

Back on that rainy day, I got off the subway about a block from her
place of work and waited in the station. I knew her routine exactly, so 
I knew she would be arriving in just a few minutes. Sure enough, a few 
minutes later, she was frowning over my puffy face and disheveled 
appearance. 

“We need to fix you before Kim pops out of nowhere.” She teased me about
Kim constantly, and had known about my crush ever since day one. She 
continued to tease me on the way back to her place to try and get me to 
loosen up. Al knew my father was the one who messed me up, so she 
didn’t bother asking me about it. She was always good like that-- thank 
the lord. 

“Let’s see, I know I have some shirts you could fit into. They’re all
rock concert t-shirts, though, so you’ll have to deal with looking like 
a punk-ass for a bit.” While the shirt she gave me definitely didn’t 
fit in with my usually “prepped up” style, I was very happy to have 
something dry, so I didn’t complain. However, I did complain when I 
noticed the bic razor next to her sink, complete with edge shaving gel. 


“What the fuck? Are you letting that prick Ken stay with you again? You
know that fucking rat is just using you because you’re so willing to 
help him. You’re way too good to him, and you’re way too good for him, 
you got that? If he shows his god forsaken face here tonight, I’m going 
to do the honors of kicking him out for you.” 

“The hell you are! That ‘fucking prick’ happens to be a very good friend
of mine—and nothing more. I let him stay here because he has no other 
safe place to go. And you know, he’s very good to me himself. He’s 
always there to listen to me. I haven’t seen your sorry ass outside of 
school for a few weeks, remember? You expect me to have only you as a 
friend? If you talk about him negatively once more, I’ll do the honors 
of kicking you out, understand?” I had just made the mistake of making 
Al mad, a mistake I made all too often when it came to Ken. 


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