Page 55 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

Aubrey slapped his arm.

“Be nice!” She screeched.

I laughed and looked down at Chris. He looked nervous to be sitting with my friends—all of whom he didn’t even know. Of course, Jules and Connor were in English with us, so he wasn’t unfamiliar with them, but they weren’t exactly buddies, either. He nodded at the seat he’d saved for me between Davud and him, so I pulled the cushion down and slid into it.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he replied. “So…Broadway, huh? You’re still an insufferable musical geek, too?”

I laughed. Before we got too involved in our conversation, I turned to Davud.

“You came, too, huh?” I asked.

He shrugged, his face a blank slate. “I wanted to support your interests.”

“That was really nice of you,” I reached over to pat his hand that was resting on the arm rest of his chair. “I’m glad you’re here. Hopefully, you won’t be sorry once it starts.”

Davud gave me a tight smile.

“Do you need a ride home after?” I asked.

Davud glanced over at me, then seemed to look past me for a second.

“No,” he said. “Mom said she’d come get me.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “Well, if you need me to, I—”

“I’m good,” he said, cutting me off.

“All right?” I shrugged.

Davud stared up at the stage, waiting for the show to begin. With ten minutes to go, I hope his eyes didn’t dry out from how intensely he was staring at the curtain. All of my other friends had broken off into little “whisper groups,” so I turned my attention back to Chris.

“So,” I asked, “you still not into musicals, huh?”

“Never have been,” he said with a grin. “But it’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” I laughed and turned to look at Davud, then gave him a nudge on his arm, “this guy isn’t into them, either. He still watches every single one I suggest. I’m into torturing him I guess.”

Davud smiled tightly again, but didn’t look over at us. Chris chuckled.

“I’ll do my best to not hate this, then,” Chris said.

“Thanks,” I said.

We fell into a silent staring contest, our eyes locked on each other’s as we sat there waiting for the recital to begin. I suddenly realized that even though Chris and I had known each other in junior high, been thick as thieves, as seniors in high school and having not spoken in so long, I didn’t have the first clue what to say to him. Even though we’d done an essay about each other, I didn’t know the first thing about him anymore. Anything I knew about him was outdated. The thought made me want to laugh.

“What is it?” he asked with a crooked smile.

“I just realized that we have a lot of catching up to do,” I said. “It’s almost like I don’t even know you. I mean, I don’t know who you are now.”

It dawned on me—how much had I ever known about Chris? Who are we in junior high? What 13 year old is a fully formed person? For the most part, I knew Chris was nice, and funny, sensitive and a good friend. Other than that, I didn’t know anything about him anymore. We had a lot to relearn. There was probably a lot of things we needed to unlearn, too.

I hadn’t been obsessed with Lord of the Rings since freshman year.

Regardless, Chris had cared enough to show up to the spring recital—one of my interests—to get to know me better. He was showing interest in my interests and hobbies. That meant something. Right? Even if we didn’t really know each other anymore, we could be well on our way to picking back up where we had left off at the end of junior high.

I’d join him in doing things he liked, he could learn more about what I liked now, and we’d figure things out. We couldn’t be so different after four years that there was no point in picking up where we left off. Right?