My name is not ordinary. My name is “Ball Girl,” or according to you at least. The girl with the red soccer ball attached to the six foot long string who brings it to the park everyday. Yes, that is me. 

For some odd reason, this ball attracts so many people: the toddlers, the cool older kids, the desperate-to-be-older younger siblings, and the thirteen year-old premature druggies. We often play ga-ga and snake in the pit we made. I leave to help my mom prepare Iftar, and expect everyone to leave. Notably they all return immediately as I come back to play with my ball!

I notice you glancing over a distance with your friend who is urging you to join the group of kids circling around my ball. You seem nervous to join while he seems afraid to be left out. I invite the both of you timidly. I am nervous as well to invite other kids to join; everyone currently surrounding and playing with my ball has self-invited themselves. The both of you have started to show up more often, but I never learn your names. Now the summer is ending. We have remained as strangers to one another since the beginning of our acquaintance.

The summer is over as I now start fourth grade at my new school. While flabbergasted I see you with your friend, but hesitate to start a chat. I hear a hushed conversation behind me coming from between the two of you chanting, “that is Ball Girl! Ball Girl is in fourth grade? Ball Girl is in our class!” The paparazzi-like dialogue directed at me has given me encouragement to ultimately introduce myself in the most wry manner after finally learning the both of your names. 

I learn throughout the month that you love math just as much as I do as we never hesitate turning our backs in order to face each other (even during quiet time) to solve the dreaded real-world problems. I have never known anyone to genuinely enjoy math until we met. We earn a reputation of being “gerds” (the combination of the words “geek” and “nerd”) as our teacher often calls us out for being the best in math in our class, yet we are able to hold our heads up high as long as we have each other. Our petty arguments about whose answer is correct are tiresome, but you know I have your back to end the fights by proving one of ourselves as correct since I mastered the skill of secretly opening the teacher’s answer key without her noticing. 

Our new friendship does not consist of only arguments over math. We witness our first views on the aspect of helplessness as our neighbor gradually died in front of us. This has been new to the both of us. It has never been predetermined that in our youth someone so close, yet so distant would endure a death which neither we, nor the doctors could control the progression of. Nothing can be done to bring her back. Although this has been a bit of an intense glimpse to contemplate on reality beyond childhood (especially during the beginnings of friendship), you have not hesitated to stay by my side. 

Holding my head down as I leave the bus after school has become a routine after hanging out with my vain, dramatic fourth-grade friends everyday. Regardless of the circumstances I have sunk myself into, you never fail to run up to me in the elevator, and inquire about my daily activities. Even though your elevator ride only consists of a mere six floors, it seems like we get a good conversation through. Our discussions on crushes, homework, and friend problems within these 15 seconds is enough to make my day. 

We live up to our nickname “gerd” by studying for the New York State Tests rather than making rubber band bracelets and making up skits to act out. Our studying eventually pays off. You are the only one to wake me up, video chat, and tell me to cut my angst and nonsense at midnight to check the scores. I have never rejoiced so much as we receive the highest scores in the state. We have earned those scores together after months of hard work.

It is now summer, and we both learn that I will be moving away shortly. We make the best of it, even though we make an evil friend. I apologize for leaving you behind for “Evil Girl.” Even when she throws rocks and dirt in my eyes so much that my vision is clouded, you run over to help me return home. When Evil Girl carries out such plots against me you do not deserve me coming back to you for reassurance, and later leaving. I am sorry. However, I think our decision to confront and call Evil Girl on her last day living in New York to tell her that we will never miss her is completely acceptable. 

Fifth grade starts. We remain friends. We are bit distant, and get into fights a bit, but still remain friends. On my last day here we never say goodbye. We do not even have one last over-the-top game with my red ball. How sad. 

We reconnect a few years later, but our spirits seem to be different. We begin to question each other’s new lifestyles too often. You seek why at this point of my life I choose not to go on dates, go to parties, and act a certain way. I inquire why you are unable to accept my decisions. Am I too uptight, and unable to let loose?

My conscience nags me to the point of realization that I may be your moral compass. You continue to have me question your actions; thus, I unintentionally, yet uncomfortably guilt you for these choices. It is possible that our belief systems have evolved from the past which is normal. I ponder over how much you have changed, but maybe this is always who you have been, or desired to be; I simply never knew. 

I neither despise, nor pity you. Nevertheless, I assume that I am being used for your personal gain as a moral compass. This is unlike our situation with Evil Girl years ago where I came back to you after realizing my mistakes. Now, the new lack of mutuality of respect for one another serves as an obstacle which is difficult to overcome unless rebuilt from clean slate. I persist to stay as a supportive friend even when asked to critique your every action. On my hand this a selfish motive as I should not continue to lie, and pretend our friendship is secure.

Does a part of you yearn to go back to our old friendship?

Are we silly to have reignited the friendship that should have remained silent after we distanced?

***

Now, we are no longer friends. My once upon a time most cherished memories with her seem insignificant now. However, my brain feels empty; somehow it yearns for those bittersweet memories to return. I find it difficult to fight this peculiar sentiment. Maybe it is best not to give into the feeling as it yet again confines me to loneliness and regret. Nevertheless, do not fret; I will never feel any hate towards what has happened. 

It is alright that we are no longer best buddies. Sure, one can say the cliché phrase: “it was not meant to be.” Maybe our friendship was meant to be. Maybe we were supposed to be lifelong friends. 

Or, maybe I should have remained as Ball Girl.