Silver Dollar Eucalyptus
Like lots of the Eucalyptus varieties, this one grows in Australia. It has tiny little leaves but boasts quite impressive foliage for the small surface area each leaf actually has. It always is strange to me that the cute and cuddly Koala Bears eat Eucalyptus, which ends up making them high. I want to be cute and cuddly looking and be able to have my main food source get me high and mellow. That sounds bad, though. I don’t really want to be high. I just want to be able to get away with something like that.
There was this guy I met once. He was in my Composition 101 class. He was a nice enough guy but boasted quite frequently about how he was always getting high and doing drugs. I have to give him props though, he never smelled like the same illegal substance two days in a row. It meant that he was either very good at eliminating odors or had a very large stash of drugs and was able to do a different one each and every day. I asked him once to name all the drugs he hadn’t done after determining that the list of all the ones he had ever done would be much to arduous a list for me to listen to.
He asked, and I quote him verbatim, “Do prescription drugs count? I’ve been able to get most of those, but some of them they actually want you to have a prescription for. What losers.” He was a character. I almost wish he hadn’t dropped out of the school so quickly. He seemed like he could do fine.
I had never been one to try and fit in with the popular crowd. I always had my nose in a book or was reading a textbook. It should not come as a surprise that I went alone to my senior prom. I did not even have a group of friends to go with. I would have. Well, I did have a group. They just didn’t care much for me nor did I care very much for them due to many differences we didn’t bother to conceal.
When I was in sixth grade, there was the beginning or a split that would later arise at the start of eighth grade. I had been too gullible and starry eyed to pay mind to it when it began, and so I had never bothered to find anyone new. I had become complacent. It could be regarded as a problem. However, while others were running around in high school, searching for new friends to replace the old ones whom they had outgrown, I was content with knowing that I would not have that issue to deal with.
Perhaps I should have pushed them away. I was quite decent at doing that with other people. I didn’t get along with many people; I was picky and never bothered to hide it. Now, I was nothing like Ricky, who apparently dressed like a grade-A nerd, but I had my fair share of quirks. I was never invited to parties that I knew were going on, for people had blatantly invited others to them right in front of me, not caring about my feelings. I was picked on relentlessly when I was younger. So, in my best efforts to combat being bullied and picked on, I chose to become the dumb blonde everyone seemed to fawn over.
After I had gone home from the field, Ricky’s blanket on my shoulders and pillow clenched in my tight grasp, I had sat down and wondered why he would lie about his car. I would have wondered more, but I had more pressing issues to get down to. I still needed to know why, out of all the things in the town and out of all the people, I had to meet Ricky and he decided to choose to give me a blanket and pillow to enhance my comfort while I slept on the wet, cold grass. I was so certain that he didn’t like me in the slightest. Considering Denise and he seemed to be close, I humored the idea that he asked
Denise what he should do about it and it was her idea that he simply implemented rather creepily.
About a week had passed and I received a call from an unknown number. If I had not been afraid it was going to be a terrifying call, I would have answered it. It could have been Ricky. I don’t know how he would have obtained by cell phone number, but he seemed like the type of guy who could con anything out of anyone. He could flash a sly smile and look one in the eyes, who would then have no choice but to give into any and all of the demands which Ricky would soon make up on the spot.
I considered calling the number back. I called the number and then hung up. I called it again and hung up yet again. On the third time, I waited for a response. I heard Ricky say “Hello,” and then I immediately hung up the phone before calling the number right again. I bet he was annoyed with me.
“Are you going to stay on the phone or hang up again?” he sounded terribly annoyed.
“What do you want me to do, stay on or hang up again? I’m sure that you just love to be able to not know if the stranger whose number you called wants to talk to you or not.” His face was not visible to me, but I got the feeling that he was rolling his eyes at me. Other than that, I did hear him scoff at me.
“You gave me your phone number. You said to call you any time. If you weren’t serious about it, then you shouldn’t have said so.” I must’ve given it to him on that night. He probably handed me his phone and I entered my number into it out of habit. How could I have been so stupid?
Then again, he might have been playing me. “I’m sure that I didn’t give my number to you.”
“So I took it from your phone. What’s the difference?” I knew he was a good for nothing liar.
“The difference is that I never actually gave it to you. And you didn’t even have the decency or courtesy to put your number into my phone so I would know who you were when you called!”
“I figured that you would be okay with it.” How crazy is he, thinking I wouldn’t mind?
“Well, I’m definitely not. Next time, why don’t you cut ask me for my number? I might actually give it to you if you bothered to be so kind as to ask me for it.” I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing my hair back as to fix my hair which was probably not messed up to begin with, but it helped a little.
“You don’t like me. Why would you give me your number?” It was a fair point, but I was not about to admit that to him. Certainly he could understand that I believed he liked me no more than I liked him and I would never have expected him to want the phone number of a girl he cannot stand.
“I would at least consider it. Not everyone makes snap judgments and sticks onto them for dear life, as though they are the only accepted truth in the world.” I hoped he would get my reference to him.
His response would give it all away. “I guess you want me to apologize for calling you all those names. But, truth be told, I don’t regret saying any of them to you. Can we start over?”
“As far as apologies go, yours seem to be the worst that I have ever heard.”
“Come on, I’m sure some sorority girl on the street has given a worsely constructed apology for bumping into you as your heels clacked each other.” I laughed and forgot I was mad at him.
“I’m not in a sorority and would not know if I had run into a girl from one.”
“That’s what they all say. Secret society members can never admit that they are in a secret society. It would ruin the entire illusion and premise of having an elite club with rigorous standards.”
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about an elite club.” I didn’t know if this was true.
“Neither would you,” he stopped to think, “not unless girly girls have I club I’ve yet to hear of.”
“Unless we’re counting your unmentioned gang of pinstripe wearing engineer want-to-bees, then I suppose you don’t have any reference to make about stereotypes.” I hoped I hit a nerve. I wanted a fight.
“You don’t want to go into that,” his voice led me to believe him. Yet, I really didn’t care.
“What? Is there some secret of yours that’s so embarrassing that you wouldn’t want it getting into the hands of a complete stranger who doesn’t know any of your friends or people you would know?”
“I’m telling you, you really don’t want to get into this with me.”
“Give me a legitimate reason.” I figured he wouldn’t be able to come up with one.
“Would you really want a complete stranger to know more about you than you’ve ever told anyone else in the world?” I didn’t actually know if I did or didn’t. It could be interesting.
“Isn’t that the point of knowing a stranger? Then you can tell that person every single deep dark secret of yours and there’s no room for judgment or comparison to what you used to be like.”
“Although your rationale seems compelling, there’s nothing sound about it. It’s all very hypothetical to say what you’ve just hypothesized. Sure, maybe that’s an advantage. But, then again, wouldn’t you want someone who knows more of you than just the present? Wouldn’t you want someone who has known you, who has seen you grow, who knows how far you’ve come?”
“That’s just one piece of the entire puzzle. I would also want someone who has nothing to base my current achievements on. Then it’s completely objective. That stranger will only take it for what it is, for what they believe. A friend who has known you will compare it to everything else you’ve done.”
“Someone’s had terrible experiences with her friends. What, Tiffany steal your boyfriend?”
“No, Tucker stole my boyfriend. That was quite the day for both myself and Tucker.”
“That wasn’t what I meant it as. I meant you must’ve had some awful falling out with some friends of yours, otherwise you wouldn’t be so bent up on the topic of friends and relationships.”
“Now we’ve hit the topic you really don’t want to get into with me.”
“Come on, you’re just being a scaredy-cat about it.” He was trying to rile me. It was working.
“Then what are you being about the topic of elite groups and people within them?”
“I’m avoiding it. You’re making a bigger deal out of your topic that you are so against.”
“I’m pretty certain that I’m doing anything but that. Just drop it, okay?”
“No, I want to know what made you hate friends so much. What happened with you?”
“Answer me first. I did ask you first, after all.”
“Why should I bother to? Your story will, without a doubt, be much more interesting than mine ever could hope to be. Girls always have much better stories about these ordeals than do guys.”
“There you go, stereotyping people again. You are a piece of work.”
“Not as much as you are stubborn.” I wasn’t stubborn at all. He was simply crazy.
“Why don’t we just talk about something else, since this is too much for you to handle?”
“If you’re too chicken to give me your response, then I’m holding out on telling mine. Your move, pretty boy.” I was willing to go at this until the dawn broke, which would be making the debate last for another solid eleven hours or so. This is the real issue with Saturday, there’s just so much time in it.
“If you won’t change the topic, we’ll just have to wait until some other time.”
“If that’s the way you want to play, so be it. Bye.” I hung up without even waiting to get an ending salutation from him. It’s not as though he would’ve given one to me, anyway.
I couldn’t help but think about how he was so distraught over talking about cliques. He may not be such a bad character, after all. There might be some substance underneath the tough façade he places for the world to view. I was still intrigued by his backstory. I wanted to know so much more about him, about what his dreams were. I wanted to see the world through his eyes. I just didn’t know exactly how I was supposed to go about accomplishing (or even starting) such a challenging and daring task.