by Alexandra Phekoo
She found her on the roof of the school.
The same spot, as usual.
“Soma,” Marisol called to the girl, approaching the crouched form that had anchored itself near the edge of the rooftop. “You know we’re not allowed up here.”
Soma was looking up at the sky, picking absentmindedly at her hands. Her black hair lay in long, thick braids over her shoulders. Her long, slightly dirty white skirt swayed gently against the gentle breeze, and her large black t-shirt hung loosely on her frame. Marisol couldn’t see her face. The night sky was beautiful; the stars were shining brightly that night.
“But you come up here with me all the time anyways,” Soma responded, not looking away from where her gaze was pointed. She wasn’t wrong—Marisol would follow the girl wherever she wanted to go. She wanted to stay close to her, always.
So, with not much else to do, and no desire to leave her there, Marisol tugged lightly on the strings of her lime green hoodie and strode next to Soma’s place on the edge, sitting next to her and gazing up towards the starry sky as well.
They said nothing, for a while, letting themselves bask in the comfortable silence.
There were a lot of stars out that night. Marisol idly wondered if any of them were one of the stars Soma had spent hours cataloguing in that little journal of hers.
Before long, she spoke up once more, glancing over to Soma once and saying, “Everyone’s looking for you, you know.” In this instance, “everyone” as it stood was: both of their parents, their kind science teacher, and Marisol’s older brother. She didn’t know if anyone else had decided to help look as well.
For the first time since Marisol arrived, Soma’s eyes dropped from the stars, to the floor of the roof. Marisol almost wished she hadn’t said anything.
“Oh.” she said, quietly. “I guess they’re all pretty mad at me, aren’t they? I made a scene.”
“I don’t think so.”
A beat passed.
“Um,” Marisol mumbled, looking down as well now, “I don’t think my brother’s mad at you. Or our teacher.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
The young girls lapsed into silence once more, this one being slightly less pleasant than before. Marisol didn’t get it—Soma hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet, somehow, everyone had gotten mad at her, like it was her fault. It was somehow always her fault.
‘It’s not her fault that everyone is so mean to her,’ Marisol wanted to scream, until it pierced the skin of everyone in this little town, until they got it through their thick skulls, ‘It’s not her fault you all find her weird. It’s not her fault these three boys came up to us in the park and started spewing insults at her. It’s not her fault she got upset and punched one of them in the face. It’s not her fault she ran away because she was afraid.’
She gritted her teeth and pulled on her hoodie strings, brows furrowed in anger at the memory. Usually, she’d be the one to drive them away with force, because she was the one who was abrasive and got into fights, who was impulsive and cut and dyed her own hair with cheap white-blonde hair dye because she wanted to upset her parents—who were they to harass her friend? The punch came as a shock to her, but she’d never believe for a second that it was unwarranted.
She just wished that Soma would let herself feel angry more often. But for now, she was more than happy to get angry on her behalf.
Marisol was so caught up in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice Soma’s looking at her until she spoke.
“Are you okay?” Soma asked, brown eyes wide and shiny and full of worry. Marisol met her gaze, and her breath got caught in her throat for just a moment; oh, the moonlight had illuminated her face so wonderfully in a way that made her glasses sparkle and eyes look like they glowed. She shouldn’t be frowning, no, no, she should be smiling and not have to worry about being made fun of.
“I should be asking you that.” Marisol sighed in response, matching Soma’s concerned stare with one of her own. She gripped the strings of her hoodie a little tighter. “I’m not the one who ran a million kilometres to hide on a school rooftop.”
The tiniest of amused smiles appeared on Soma’s face. Marisol hadn’t attempted to make a joke, but cheered inwardly at Soma’s expression anyways.
“You ran a million kilometres to find me on a school rooftop, though.”
“I’d do it again,” Marisol countered almost instantly, and she meant it genuinely. Soma giggled in return, and Marisol felt pride well up in her chest.
“I know you would. Because you’re a weirdo.” Soma hummed, with a small mischievous glint in her eyes, and poked at Marisol’s temple. Marisol quickly changed from prideful to flustered.
“You—you’re a bigger weirdo!” She argued, but without any real bite behind her words. “Who else spends all of their time categorizing stars and constellations in a notebook but you?”
Soma pouted in response, and Marisol’s flusteredness all but immediately melted away. Something else welled in her chest instead—something akin to pride, but not quite. She didn’t know what. Soma’s voice snapped her out of her short reverie, her hands raising to make an excited gesture as her voice took on that clear tone it always did when she talked about something she was passionate about. “Stars are fun to learn about! And—I never said being weird was a bad thing, it’s one of the things I like about you!”
Any witty retort Marisol had thought of promptly died in her throat. Oh.
She stared dumbly at Soma, mouth opening and closing like a fish as she attempted to find a way to respond. Soma’s gaze was still locked with her own, fire still alight in her eyes, but curious now. Searching for something.
Marisol was the one to break eye contact at the end, drawing her knees into her chest and looking downward to the view below the school—the parking lot in the front, the flagpole, the convenience store that was just across the street, she idly counted the amount of bushes by the entrance—as she spoke in an uncharacteristically soft voice,
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing either.”
Stubbornly, she didn’t lift her eyes back up to see Soma’s reaction. Soma didn’t give a verbal response either. They both just sat there in silence, taking in each other’s words, for another short while.
Marisol was halfway through counting the individual leaves on one of the bushes before she heard a ‘hup!’ and a small thud from beside her. She tore her eyes away from the bush to look at Soma, who was now lying on her back and staring to the sky once again.
Waiting a few beats in case she wanted to say anything, Marisol eventually lay beside her, fixing her gaze back on the sky as well.
“I think that one up there is Orion,” Soma pointed upwards, drawing lines with her fingers between the stars, “because you can see his belt there. And there’s Betelgeuse…”
Marisol hummed in acknowledgement. She didn’t understand a lot of the big words Soma used to explain the star placements, but she’d always enjoyed hearing her talk. Neither wanted to leave yet.
Marisol snuck a glance towards her friend. Her eyes were lit up with passion and her face was expressive. Marisol couldn’t be happier.
“If I were a shooting star, what would you wish on me?” Soma asked suddenly, making Marisol jump slightly as she caught her affectionate gaze.
She blinked. “What?”
“If I were a shooting star, what would you wish on me?” Soma repeated. Marisol stared blankly, mouth slightly agape, before turning her head back towards the sky to think.
She didn’t understand the question, or what Soma was looking for. But, she opened her mouth and gave her honest answer.
“I’d wish for you to return home safe.”
“Hmm,” was all Soma said in response, eyes lingering on Marisol, before turning back to the sky as well.
After a few seconds, she spoke again. “What if we ran away?”
“How would we do that?”
“We could sneak on that train.”
“But—wouldn’t that be scary?” Marisol’s eyebrows twitched down in a way that looked worried. Or afraid. “Being too far from home?”
Soma paused, mouth pressing into a thin line in thought.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Hmm.”
Silence. They turned back to the sky.
“I think I’d be okay with you, though.”
Marisol was caught off guard, again. “What?”
“‘Cause you’d run a million kilometres for me.” Soma smiled, hand twitching over Marisol’s own.
Her heart thumped in her chest.
“Yeah,” Marisol breathed, “I would.”
They lapsed into comfortable silence once more.
ALEXANDRA PHEKOO is a first year York University student in the English & Professional writing program. She is an aspiring author and, while she’s been struck with major writer’s block for a while now, she’s hoping to get back into the swing of things. She likes writing about grounded human experiences.