The dead face girl (part 4)

This is a continuation of an original fiction piece by flickagirl. The first part is found here!  You can find all installments by clicking the tag "dead face girl."
Ben

Chapter 3 (part 2) 

The rest of the day was pretty normal, until recess. I was sitting on the swing, just, well, swinging. I wasn’t swinging very high, because I was writing in my journal. Yes, I keep a journal. No, I have not let anyone read it. (And for those of you who have too much time on your hands and are reading this book over, DON’T GIVE IT AWAY!)

Anyway, I was just swinging, then, surprise, surprise! Ben walked up, staring intently at the ground and wringing his hands. “Heeellllloooooo,” He said slowly, as if worried that I couldn’t speak English, “Myyyy naaame iiiiiisssss Beeeen.”

I waited a few seconds before answering, just to make sure that he was done. “I’m in your math class.” I informed him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” he said, “You can talk.”

I snorted. This boy wasn’t going to make my day any better. I tried to decide what to do. Should I give this kid another ugly stare? No, I wanted to see what he wanted. I settled on a sarcastic, “Really? I hadn’t noticed!”

He stared at me for a couple seconds, trying to decide whether I was serious.

“It was a joke.” I said exasperated. At that he smiled. Again. “You know what?” I thought, “Changing my mind about the smile.” I shook my head.

“So, what do you want?” I asked, suddenly in a hurry to get this over with.

“I, um…” he stammered, “I want to… well… beyourfriened.” He spluttered out the last words in a hurry, like he thought that if he said it fast enough, it would make the reaction less scary. Wrong. Although it might have been slightly delayed, as I tried to figure out what he had said. But I got it eventually.

“You what?”

“I want to be your friend?” he said uncertainly.

I was about to give him the death stare, but I realized that this might be fun. This had happened to me several times before. Someone had asked to be my friend, and I had accepted, expecting every time that it would work. Of course, I now had enough experience to know that it never does. Ever. But it might be fun to see how long this boy would last. “Alright,” I said, “you can try to be my friend. But be warned, this has never worked out for anyone.”

“I know,” he said matter-of-factly, “I can tell from the rumors being spread about you.”

“Rumors?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “What rumors?”

I acted like I had no clue, although I knew every single rumor there ever was about me. I had even started some of them.

“Oh, ya!” he said eagerly. “One of them was that you couldn’t talk, another was that you didn’t have a name,” I stiffened at that, but Ben didn’t notice. “And others say that you’re actually dead, and are a zombie!”

I snorted. “I like that one.” I told him.

He laughed. It was a nice sound, his laugh. It was like his smile. It made me want to laugh. I tried to smile. I managed it, sort of. I got my weighty lips to turn up at the corners, but I could tell from Ben’s face that I wasn’t actually showing any emotion, so I gave up. “What?” I asked, when I noticed that he was still staring at me.

“You’re funny.” He replied, searching my face for any sign of anything. Of course, he didn’t find whatever he was looking for. “Anyway, he continued when he realized that I still wasn’t showing any emotion, “to really be someone’s friend, you have to know their name. You already know mine, Ben. It’s only fare if you tell me yours.”

Crap. I was afraid of this. What should I say? I couldn’t have him call me Honey, because that would be weird, and I wouldn’t let him call me Abigail. I hate that name. But before I could decide what to do, the obviously bored playground monitor said, “Time to go inside.”

“Gotta go!” I said, as I jumped off of the swing and bolted toward the door.