The End

It was raining the day I met Josephine Baker. I know people do not generally
start stories in such an abrupt manner, but an abrupt beginning befits an
abrupt end. She was new to our school, and I thought it would be polite and
ask her to sit with me at lunch. I remember seeing her standing in the lunch
line. She had eyes that were blue-gray, like the rain outside. Her hair was
black, like a raven's feather. I thought that she was very tall, but that
was just because of my short perspective. She seemed different from the rest
of our classmates, shy was the word other people used; I guess this was why I
gravitated toward her. I thought she would accept me.
At this point I should probable tell you about myself. My name is Fey
Inkelberry. I am an average looking sort of girl. I have dirty blonde hair,
brown eyes, and an ordinary complexion, but my appearance is not what makes
me who I am. It is, as my parents and teachers call it, "my strong sense of

individuality". I just say that I am different. When I met Josephine I felt
she would understand that.
Josephine and I sat together at lunch that day, and every day after that. We
became friends and were closer than I would have imagined possible. She was
my best friend for all of elementary school and most of middle school. We
shared secrets and had sleep-overs. She knew everything about me, from my
favorite color to my deepest darkest secrets. I thought I knew everything
about her as well, but something changed.
She and I are no longer friends. She, not I, ended our friendship. She did
the unforgivable. Josephine Baker humiliated me in front of the whole school
and worst of all she stabbed me in the back. This is how it happened.
Josephine and I were walking together on our way to our first day of eighth
grade. Now, I must tell you that Josephine had changed over the years. She
had somehow become the queen bee of social life in the school. People said

that she had grown out of her shyness. I like to think of it as a change of
allegiances. She was no longer one of the outcasts. She spent more and more
time with the popular people, (who incidentally everyone privately hates
because they are popular) and less and less time with me (who people hate
openly for no reason). Go figure. Anyway, it was that day that we met Tommy
Jacobsen.
Tommy was new to our small town. He was tall with black hair and eyes the
color of chocolate. He was almost always wearing a New York Yankees shirt
and shorts. Even in winter he wore shorts. I know a million other weird
useless details about him, but I will not bore you with them. As you might
have noticed, I had a crush on him. Unfortunately, so did Josephine and her
posse of popular girls.
This was the beginning of the end. I told her I liked him and she told me to
get lost. She did not want me to come near her anymore. I was upset, but

she and done this before, and I thought that she would forget about it like
all the other times. Sadly, she did not.
It was lunch when she made her move. She told everyone that I liked Tommy,
and said things like, "Isn't that just sad?" and "How dumb can she be to like
some one who's popular?". Don't forget my all time favorite, "She's
different from us, she should know that!" Everyone shunned me, even the other
small group of outcasts. They all thought it was wrong for me to like
someone that was better than I.
Then Josephine told Tommy. That was where she made her mistake. Tommy felt
bad for me, so he started to talk to me. We became friends even though all
of the popular people balked. A year has passed since Josephine ended our
friendship. She does not speak to me, but I do not care.
Tommy and I are friends and were going to the same High School now. I am
working on making us more than friends, but I can wait. I have four years of
new friendships to forge. Josephine did not stop me before and I will not let
her stop me now.

I can still hear Tommy consoling me by saying, "When a door closes, a window
opens." At the time I did not really understand what he meant. Looking back
on The Josephine Incident (as I like to call it) I see what he meant. When I
lost Josephine's friendship, I found his. I think of this and smile.