Friendship, Letters, and the Altador Cup

     I wish I could take back what I said to you yesterday – or what I didn’t say. You had a bad day, but instead, I kept talking about how Professor Gideon grilled me on exactly the lesson I had failed to read the night before because I had to clean my Strales’ aquarium. I apologized to you, only to realize too late that this wasn’t the first time I talked over you or didn’t listen to you. After that, I could only listen to you tell me how insincere and selfish I was, watch as you walked across Brightvale University’s garden and away from me, and hear you tell me not to follow you or to talk to you ever again.

     I felt terrible. What a dumb Cybunny I must be. I cried all night trying to review for my physics quiz and I couldn’t read my notes at all because my eyes were so red and sore. For the first time in my life, I was glad I didn’t have a roommate because no one would have to see me like that.

     Today, I saw you sitting next to my spot on the table in front. Professor Gideon was very strict about everyone sticking to the seating plan, so I had no choice but to sit next to you, no matter how awkward it felt, especially with my face still reeling from last night’s sob session. That was the longest hour and a half of my life – listening to the desert Gnorbu ramble on and on about the history of Sakhmet as I glanced furtively at you every few moments. You took notes meticulously as always with your different coloured pens and markers, all four of your ears twitching as though they were catching every single word from our history professor.

     You never glanced back at me, not once.

     When class was over, you gathered up your things and left without another word. I watched you leave as I slowly placed my book and notebook back into my backpack, my ears drooping against my face as much as yours were perked up during the lesson.

     Just as I had cleared my Elegant Yooyuball Fountain Pen from the desk, Petunia approached me with a note. The green Chomby said it was from you, and I imagined you hastily thrusting this plain piece of folded paper to her on the way out.

     Clutching your note in my free hand, I was the last to vacate the classroom. I nearly turned toward the direction of the garden but remembered that I had my physics quiz in the laboratory right after history. I could only hope that I remembered everything I tried to read last night through tear-filled eyes.

     Against better judgment, I opened your note and read it while walking to the lab.

     It didn’t start with “Dear Louanne” or even just “Louanne”. Instead, it went straight to, “You always think you’re such a special snowflake, that the world revolves around you. Newsflash: it doesn’t. I already told you not to speak to me again. Don’t come near me either. Just seeing you makes me angry and sick.”

     I nearly walked right into the post next to the lab door. I felt sick, myself, and angry at myself. I crumpled up your note in my fist and threw it into the nearest trash bin.

     Then I felt numb as I walked into the lab. I was resigned to my fate that I would fail the day’s quiz.

     I’m so sorry, Addie. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. Please, forgive me. I’ll try to be a better friend if you talk to me again.

     * * *

     Dear Addie,

     I remember when we first met. It was during that year’s Altador Cup.

     I was with my parents, and since they were the trainers for the Brightvale team, we had VIP passes to the Luxury Sky Box Lounge. The match between Brightvale and the Haunted Woods had not started yet, and I decided to walk around the Colosseum for a while.

     That was when I saw you scrambling around – a brown Aisha with a green and white striped headscarf, wearing a Brightvale jersey over a neat white blouse and a pleated black skirt. Even your stockings and wristbands were in the Brightvale colours. You were looking for your own VIP pass, and I helped you look for it.

     Before we found your pass by the snack stand where you had bought candy bars before the match, I learned that you were also a freshman in Brightvale University, taking up a major in political science. Not everyone in BVU supported Brightvale – after all, BVU is a melting pot of students from all across Neopia – so it was nice to meet someone else who did. We wound up watching the match together and sharing your stash of candy bars, and from then on, we became friends. We hung out after classes, we cheered for Brightvale during the Altador Cup season, and we studied together.

     I studied for my physics quiz alone yesterday and in tears, but as it turned out, I got top marks. Oswald and Balder took me out to Dough You Crust Me, the pizza restaurant near the administrative building, to celebrate. They even ordered my favourite flavour – Everything But the Kitchen Sink, which is also your favourite – but I could barely eat. I could barely celebrate my quiz score.

     Oswald, thoughtful Vandagyre that he was, asked me what was wrong. I wanted to tell him and Balder that it was nothing, but I told them about our fight, and that it was my fault.

     “Cheer up,” Balder answered around a mouthful of pizza, “you and Addie have always been tight. I’m sure this’ll blow over like a summer storm.” Then the shadow Ogrin reached for another slice, ignoring the way Oswald rolled his eyes.

     Balder was right. You and I were tight. And I want us to be tight again, Addie. It hasn’t been long since you walked away from me, but I miss you. I miss walking with you, hand in hand, through the university as we went to our classes and our favourite hangout spots before parting ways for our dorms.

     Balder and Oswald’s dorm was on the opposite side of campus, so they couldn’t walk with me to the Florange Dormitory. We parted ways after our pizza and they left me alone with my thoughts and my grief and my guilt.

     Please, Addie, talk to me again. I want to make this right.

     * * *

     Dear Addie,

     Seeing you in the corridors, the libraries, the cafeteria, and anywhere in BVU gives me a terrible pang in my heart. I never know whether I should approach you to apologize properly, knowing you’ve told me to stay away, or whether I should continue giving you some space. I don’t even know if I should give you these letters. It seems so easy to pass you one during history class, but once I’m sitting next to you, I don’t know anymore, and I decide to just focus on Professor Gideon’s class the way you do. There’s something that tells me it simply isn’t the time. Maybe it’s the fact that you barely look at me now.

     It has been weeks since we fought, and I’ve tried to distract myself with my Strale thesis project, my reports, and the Environment-Friendly Club. But even the Strales I harvest fluff from remind me of the time you came to my dorm room one night complaining about your roommate, Hannah.

     Every time you mentioned her, I would reply, “Hannah the celebrity adventurer, or Hannah the worst roommate ever?” You laughed the first few times I did it, but that night, you frowned at me and that stopped me from laughing at my own tired joke. You told me Hannah spilt gravy onto your favourite BVU sweater, the one you wore to almost every Altador Cup match, and when she tried to clean it up, she tore it wide open. To top it all off, she misplaced your written report on the analysis of Roo Island politics – albeit briefly – while looking around for something she could use to mop up her mess.

     I tried to cheer you up by saying that at least there was never a dull moment in your dorm room, the sweater was easily replaceable, and that silly rainbow Wocky found your report in the end.

     I wish I could take back those words, too. You were obviously not in the mood for jokes. You just wanted to vent. I wish I could take back every misplaced word I said. But I can’t. All I can do now is to apologize as many times as it will take for you to forgive me, and that’s assuming you will even let me speak to you.

     I’ll have to cut this one short. I think I need more Strale fluff.

     I still miss you. My Strales probably do, too.

     * * *

     Dear Addie,

     It’s almost exam season, which means it’s almost graduation season (and Altador Cup season). Ever since we met, we looked forward to graduating together. I imagined the two of us tossing our caps together, clutching our diplomas and looking pretty proud of ourselves for surviving four years in BVU.

     Then, we would celebrate by preparing for this year’s Altador Cup. You always said it would be more special than the other Cups we’ve watched because it would be the first Cup of the rest of our lives outside BVU. Or something like that. You even said you would buy brand new team gear for the occasion.

     Now, as I check out books from the library for my biochemistry report, I’m thinking that this Cup would be special in a different way, and certainly not in the way I expect – it may be the first one I’ll watch without you.

     I haven’t been able to approach you, or send you these letters – in fact, I’m starting to forget about sending them to you. It’s probably because whenever I see you these days, you’re happy. I saw you chatting with Petunia after history class, and I saw you laughing at Oswald and Balder throwing a toy Yooyuball at each other on the track field sometime after that. If I walk up to you to say something, or to send you this letter, I might shatter your happy day as easily as a Yooyu might shatter a glass window.

     And that would be selfish of me, wouldn’t it?

     I’m glad you’re doing well, from what I hear and see from you, anyway.

     * * *

     Dear Addie,

     I’ve started counting down the days to graduation (and the Altador Cup). It feels more like a routine than something to look forward to, now. Are you counting down the days too, at least?

     As we waited for previous Altador Cup seasons, we would run into each other in the corridor and excitedly exclaim to each other, “seven days before the Cup!” As the Cup drew closer, we would wear more and more team gear and accessories until we were walking Brightvale advertisement beacons.

     But I noticed, when I came out of my physics class, that you didn’t have your Brightvale keychain. At this time, you usually start clipping it to your bag. Does this mean you won’t be watching the Cup this year, and is it because of me? I don’t want you to stop doing something you like all because you’re still mad at me.

     I mentioned this to Petunia when we went to the Coffee-Go-Round and ordered Double Chocolate Lattes, just like the three of us used to. She told me that you were busy studying for your quiz on political theory in the library, and a part of me wondered if she just made an excuse to avoid me.

     I was rambling about how I was going to miss watching the Brightvale matches without you when I realized that our lattes were already half full and that was all we were talking about. I caught myself and asked the Chomby, “Sorry, I was rambling. Is there anything you wanted to say, Petunia?”

     Petunia just smiled and said, “It’s okay, Louanne, I’m here to listen to you.” I’m glad she wasn’t offended, but my mind kept going into…well, what if she was? I have to be more careful from now on, knowing that talking over others was what made you mad. I didn’t want Petunia to think I was selfish.

     “Thanks,” was all I could say, as I breathed a sigh of relief.

     Honestly, Addie, If we hadn’t fought, I probably wouldn’t have learned to listen better. I just don’t know if you’re ready to hear from me now since you haven’t talked to me. I see you in the library, the cafeteria, the hallways…but you don’t seem to see me – or want to see me.

     Petunia wants to watch my thesis defense next week. I told her that if she wants to bring you along, that’s okay. If that’s okay with you, and if you want to see Cloudy, your favourite Strale. He’s still going strong.

     I considered asking Petunia to send you a letter the way you sent me that angry note through her, but I figured that if you were still not approaching me, I don’t think you’d listen to anything I try to say through any of our friends.

     * * *

      Dear Addie,

     When I imagined my thesis defense, I imagined you sitting next to me while I fuss over my Strales and fluff samples. Sometimes I even imagine myself covered in the fluff, like a chocolate Cybunny with messy daubs of whipped cream, with you gripping my hand tightly when I’m feeling too nervous.

     Petunia, Balder and Oswald were here to cheer me on as I faced the head professors of the Biology Department, but it didn’t feel right, not having you with us. Well, at least I wasn’t covered in Strale fluff.

     My thesis defense was a success for the most part, even though I was pretty sure I was a nervous wreck on stage as I discussed my Strales and their fluff samples. My Brightvale team scarf was tied around my waist like a sash and a lucky charm, but it didn’t stop two of my Strales trying to escape from their box – I think one of them was Cloudy. After my defense, Professor Artemis asked me if I was still interested in pursuing a master’s degree in Biology with a specialization in petpetpet studies. Of course, I said yes. Then she told me she was willing to write my recommendation letter. I was so happy that I forgot you weren’t there with me.

     That has been happening more and more recently. I still miss you, and it’s still weird carrying on without you, but I feel like eventually, I’ll get used to it. It seems like you got used to it faster than I did. I hope you’re no longer angry like before though. I don’t think it’s a good idea to graduate angry, even if you did have a reason to be.

     I hope I can see you at graduation. I hope your thesis defense goes well, too, assuming it hasn’t happened yet, since you never told me when it was and we stopped talking before you found out when yours would be.

     * * *

     Dear Addie,

     I saw you in the graduation queue today. I wanted to wave at you (and hope you can stand to look at me again), but you disappeared just as quickly as I found you. I don’t know if it’s coincidence or if your political science classmates just wanted to hang out, but as you left, I could have sworn I noticed an Altador Cup emblem keychain on your clutch. I told Petunia, tugging at her sleeve as she stood with the rest of the Chemistry graduates, and she nodded in agreement.

     It made me glad to see that you were still into the Altador Cup and Yooyuball, at the very least, even if you may not be sharing it with me this year.

     As for all these “letters” I wrote you, I didn’t bring them with me. I don’t think this is the right time to give them to you; in fact, perhaps there won’t ever be a right time.

     And that’s okay with me.

     Besides, there just wasn’t enough space in my purse for all of them, and togas and most dresses don’t have pockets.

     * * *

     Dear Addie,

     This might be the last letter I write to you. Not that you’ll ever read this one, or the others.

     I heard from Petunia that you were accepted to an internship with King Altador’s council. I wondered if this meant you wouldn’t have time to watch the Cup, but I was proved wrong when I accompanied my parents to the Brightvale versus Altador match. We had VIP seats again, but I craved the cheap buttered popcorn they sold in the stands, so I left the Luxury Sky Box Lounge to buy some. I probably looked like a free Team Brightvale advertisement, with my scarf and shirt and my green skirt, or just a mint, vanilla and chocolate Cybunny.

     That was when I saw you.

     I had seen you at BVU quite a few times, of course, but today was different. You were there, seated in the bleachers with your friends, decked out in the yellow and orange of Altador. You no longer wore your headscarf; instead, you wore a tiara with the Altadorian sun and bright gold ribbons. Your sweater and skirt and stockings shone like fervent beacons for Altador.

     Time seemed to stop as I stood there, seeing you laugh and wave your gold and orange garlands with a Zafara and a Lenny I recognized from the Political Science department. I don’t know if you saw me, but you were probably too busy chatting and chanting with them.

     For the first time in a long while, seeing you made me feel happy, instead of nervous, or uncertain, or guilty.

     When I saw you smile, I saw the Aisha I met in my freshman year in the green and white headscarf. I saw the Aisha who was just as passionate about Team Brightvale as I was, and who wasn’t angry, or hurt. I saw the Aisha who enjoyed the Cup so much that even with a presumably busy internship, she would still carve out time to watch her favourite team, even if that favourite team was no longer Brightvale.

     That made me smile, too. But I decided not to ruin your moment. I turned away without another glance and headed for the popcorn vendor. I bought a large bucket of popcorn – you always told me I ate too much popcorn – and made my way back to the lounge, my spirits feeling lighter and freer with every step.

     Not all friendships last forever, but the memories always remain. Even if things will never be the same again between us, I will have the memories and the fun. Even if I don’t ever send these letters to you, it turned out that writing them was a huge help for me, putting down this blur of emotions onto paper.

     And I will have the lessons your friendship taught me.

     I wish you the best in everything you do, and here’s to another action-packed Altador Cup we can still enjoy – just not together.

     Farewell,

     Louanne

     The End.