Chapter 3

Oswald and Harry hated each other. Well, Harry hated Oswald. Harry was mad I invited a “dumb jock” to his lame park event. He wanted to catch butterflies for an extra credit summer assignment. I told him Oswald wasn’t some “dumb jock” and that he was my best friend.

That really pissed him off and he yelled something about not wanting to be a third wheel. I told him there was nothing wrong with tricycles and he stormed off.

Oswald was just standing there. He had taken out his contacts and put on his glasses.

He looked embarrassed, because, I mean, the whole scene had just unfolded in front of him. I told him not to pay any attention to Harry and that he would eventually cool down about the whole third wheel thing.

Oswald did that thing where he pushes his glasses up with his palm. Yep, definitely Captain Oz.

He and I started walking again and ended up getting that lunch. He ate just as much as he always did…okay, so more than he used to, but I was used to his large appetite.

He told me about how his clothes didn’t fit right for a while when he got really tall and how he decided to start lifting weights. He said he still wasn't very popular at his other schools.

I was paying full attention to every word. I was happy to listen. I could finally hear Oswald in the strange new guy I was sitting across from. I felt so happy to get to talk with him again. He laughed the same, except it was much deeper.

He was Oswald, just a much different version. I couldn’t honestly expect him to look the same as five years ago, that would just be stupid.

“You keep looking at me like I’m some sort of freak.” He said. He laughed his Captain Oz laugh and ate another fry. I didn’t think I had been staring, but I guess I was. He looked mix-matched with his thick glasses and large, burly body.

“Sorry.” I said quickly. I was a bit embarrassed. He was so different, yet I…I was the same as I have been for as long as I can remember. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, I just…sorry.” He was making me so flustered. I hated it. He probably didn’t feel this way.

“I guess I do look different…” He said. “Do you still have your bracelet?” He asked, smiling at me. “Mine doesn’t fit on my wrist anymore…” He pulled out a bead bracelet he had on a string around his neck.

We were in sixth grade. We saw these girls on a box for friendship bracelets. I bought it and we made a pair. I made his and he made mine. He didn’t call me gay or a fag. He was my friend and he made me a stupid friendship bracelet because I asked him to. I still had mine too. I was wearing it.

He used green and yellow beads for mine. His bracelet was red and purple. I showed him my wrist and he laughed again. I bet he noticed it earlier and was just now bringing it up. I smiled.

We got picked on because of those bracelets, but we never stopped wearing them. He never threw his away. He kept that bracelet and I felt special, like I actually meant something to him.

He palmed his glasses and finished his milkshake. It was turning out to be an eventful day.