That night, I purposely didn't mention to my Mom that Mark had come by earlier or that we had gone out for lunch. She was always bothering me about making friends, and there was no point in mentioning anything since I figured he would decide I wasn't worth the trouble.
She didn't know anything about Charlie Day or how far on the edges I was at school. She just figured I was shy and kept trying to give me "advice" about speaking up more and joining clubs—useless stuff.
When Mark didn't call me the next morning, I figured I was right, and I understood. Nobody wants to hang with a baby—especially if he looks like one. He probably was trying to be friendly and then realized how weak and pathetic I was.
I was still in my pajamas at one in the afternoon and watching tv in my bed when he called me.
"Hey, you want to do something?"
"Sure." I tried very hard not to sound excited, but my heart was beating a mile a minute. Maybe I did have a friend!
"Come over," he said and hung up.
I was surprised he'd hung up so quickly, but I decided it was cool, like we understood each other.
I threw off my pajamas, put on a clean shirt and pants, and rushed out the door. I thought it would be funny to run over to his house, a couple of blocks away, and knock on his door quicker than he expected. Even though I was shorter than everyone, I was a pretty good runner.
"Hi!" I shouted as he opened the door. I couldn't wait to see the smile on his face.
But he didn't smile. I immediately felt embarrassed and horrible that he had to put up with me.
Mark stepped aside, and I went inside, grateful he didn't just send me home and didn't yell at me again for being a baby. I promised myself to think harder about not acting in ways that would get him angry.
We went into his room, and I immediately saw how much my room was like a baby's. It wasn't just because of my stuffed animals and horse poster, but he had things like movie posters, a bookshelf with awards, boxed-up action figures he collected, and a ton of books.
I felt embarrassed that he saw it. My room didn't look like a teenager lived there.
We played video games for a while, but he got frustrated with me because I didn't know how to use the controller that well (I didn't have a game system), so he decided we should go down to the mall for a while. I thought that was probably a better idea. I wasn't sure why, but it seemed like there was more chance of my making a mistake if I was at his house.
The mall was a couple of miles away, so we had a lot of time to talk along the way. First, he talked about a movie he to with his friends (his other friends, since I was one of. his friends now) and asked me if I watched a couple of shows that he liked, but then he remembered that I didn't have any streaming.
I got a little nervous that he would find me boring if I didn't have anything to say, so I randomly asked about his favorite food.
"Pizza, what's yours?"
"Pizza." It was actually Chinese food, but I wanted to let him know I had something in common with him.
We went on talking about pizza for a while. I asked him who makes the best pizza, and we spoke about cheesy bread.
I felt really good about the walk down to the mall. I felt like he was a really good friend. I never really had many friends outside of school. So I decided right then to tell my mom that I had a new friend when she came home from work later.
When we got to the mall, we went into this big electronics store and looked around. I was looking at the laptops, and he was looking at the watches and the phones, I think. I thought he was somewhere on the other side of the store. I was looking at a gaming laptop that I knew I could only dream of, but it was fun to play with it a little and admire how bright and big the screen was compared to my laptop, which was about as far from gaming as you can get.
Suddenly, he grabbed me by my arm, "Let's get out!"
He was mad, but I was sure it wasn't me. I wasn't doing anything.
But once we were out in the mall, he yelled at me, "YOU DID IT AGAIN!"
It didn't make any sense.
"I was just looking at the laptop," I told him.
"Do you want to be friends with me or not?"
"Yes."
"Then stop acting like a baby!"
I felt so sad.
"I'm sorry," I told him, without knowing what I was apologizing for. I was afraid to ask.
He seemed to calm down and nodded in the direction of the food court, "Let's get something to eat."
I was relieved, and we went to the frozen yogurt place. It was a fun place where you could choose the flavors you wanted and add your toppings. I loved that place, but I was careful not to start chattering about it, in case he thought I was acting immature like I was talking about the pizza. He wasn't very talkative, and I felt I had to be extra careful.
Usually, I would have a combination of the strawberry, peanut butter, and vanilla flavors, but Mark went for chocolate and double chocolate, so I did the same and added peanuts as one of the toppings. Also, he added caramel sauce instead of fudge, so I did the same.
A minute after we sat down, he said, "I'm sorry I got mad at you."
"It's okay."
"But you know why, right?"
I nodded.
"It's because you act immature sometimes, and it's embarrassing."
"I know,"
"We're friends, right?"
I was relieved, but I tried not to show it, "Yeah."
"My dad would get so mad if I acted like you."
I stared at him, unsure what I should say. I felt embarrassed because he was embarrassed.
"So, if I tell you that you're acting like a baby, it's only, so you know."
"I know."
"It's not like I want to be mean. You just need to grow up."
I stared into my yogurt, "I know."
"Look at me," he said, and I did. He was smiling, "Repeat after me."
"Okay."
"Say, 'I promise not to act like a baby.'"
I felt my face turning red. Why was he doing this in public?
"Say it."
There were people at the next table, so I said quietly, "I promise not to act like a baby."
"Louder."
I wanted to tell him I didn't want to, but I figured I brought it on myself, so I spoke louder, "I promise not to act like a baby."
"Say that you promise not to embarrass me."
"I promise not to embarrass you."
He finished the last of his yogurt, licked his spoon, and then said, "Say that you won't like a two-year-old that pooped his diaper."
I noticed that one of the kids at the next table was staring. She heard me.
"Can I say it after we leave?" I asked him quietly.
Mark's smile disappeared, "If you don't like it, don't act like a baby."
I tried only to look at Mark and took a deep breath, "I won't act like a two-year-old that pooped his diaper."
I was so humiliated I wanted to throw up. But, at the same time, I desperately wanted him to respect me.
Mark was done with his yogurt, so he got up and started heading out. I got up and followed. I was only half done with mine.
"Throw it away," he told me, "you'll just drip it all over yourself."
Reluctantly, I threw it away.
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