Quote of the day: "Arkansas: where being pregnant doesn't stop you from getting pregnant". --Seth Myers of Weekend Update

A Tribute to September 17, 2009.

I woke up almost an hour after the first sounding of my alarm, as usual. What I wore is inevitable, how I did my hair is unimportant. I do remember that I actually put makeup on, which is a once-or-twice a week occurrence nowadays. It was minimal, mascara only, but I remember it.
That day was the first day anyone at school had ever seen me cry. I know for a fact that none of my best friends ever had. I had always told Chandler she would never see me cry, that it was just something I never do and would never admit to doing. She told me that she would do everything within her power to make sure that I cry at graduation. Deep down, I knew she wouldn't have to do anything, but she didn't and I was planning on keeping it that way.
That was also the day Baby Beatrice was born.
Like I said, everything about that day, except for my random makeup usage, was normal. Yearbook was uneventful, just working on eDesign, not really getting anything done. History consisted of talking about the French and Indian War with no one truly paying attention. English, however, was different. Angela wasn't there.
"Dope! Where's Mang?" I whispered to Hope after 10 minutes had passed.
"I dunno! Is she sick?" She whispered back.
"She's never sick!"
"Crap. You're right; this is weird."
"Maybe you should text her." Hope did and we began to half pay attention to whatever Mrs. Wadhwania was talking about. I guess I didn't give it much though, Angela being gone. A calculus makeup test, I figured. Mrs. Radja, the crazy physics teacher, got too excited about velocity and didn't notice the time. She was okay and I knew it.

"Hayes. Hayles...Ang's mom had the baby!" Hope nudged me, looking up from her phone. Of course! Why didn't I think of that? The baby was due the next day and the Andrews' are famous for inducing their newborns. This is baby number 10! Andrews world domination, as I've heard it said. But, as usual, the gender of the baby was kept a secret until the birth.

"Boy or Girl!?" We both messaged her.

Several minutes later,
"It's...complicated. Read my blog. Don't worry, it's not a hermaphrodite."

It's...complicated? Complicated, how? I knew Hope had the same thoughts when she opened up her inbox to find the same text in response. Being in a class where the teacher only allows three minutes for potty breaks, there wasn't anything we could do for nearly twenty minutes. Thankfully, Mrs. Wadhwania decided to cut short her lecture on "The effects of the opening scene" in reference to Kafta's "The Metamorphosis" short. Hope excused herself to the "bathroom", but I could hear her running down the hall in the opposite direction, looking for an open computer. 5 minutes passed, then 10. Then 20. Hope still hadn't returned and it was time for passing period. I gathered all her books, told our french teacher, "Il faut que je trouve Hope, " and wandered off in search for her.
There she was, sitting in the middle of the polo field, by herself. Just sitting. She's hard to miss, with that bright yellow, bleached blonde hair of hers. I remember yelling her name and having her turn around to stare a me for a few seconds, neither of us really moving. Paranoid as always, I was almost certain the baby had died, that Mrs. Andrews had died, something. Then Hope started running towards me and I attempted to do the same. I can only imagine how ridiculous I looked, her backpack on my back, my own satchel across my right side, waddling like a penguin. I got up to her; she looked like such a mess: nose runny, eyes bloodshot, eyeliner running and fading. Something you never want to see in a best friend. I could hear it in my head, "The baby, the baby's gone, Hayleigh."
"The baby..." Hope starts, genuinely trying to be strong, "it's a girl... but." It wasn't working. "She's a down-syndrome babbbbby," she trailed off, blubbering other nonsense. I stuck my arms out to hug her. All I could muster was a "Wow..." and a confused face. I mean, it's surprising, yes, but down-syndrome isn't a curse upon a family. I've recently learned that. It's just a test of faith. The Andrews family is the family best equipped in the world to handle anything creative God wanted to throw at them. Both Hope and I knew that deep down.
French was nearly unbearable, Hope silent and sniffling, me pensive and passive. Afterwards, we drug ourselves down the halls toward the lunch room, halfway briefing Maggie on what was going on. None of us were too concentrated on eating.
But I had to read the blog.
Login: check. Internet connection: check. No proxy needed to get to Angela's blog: surprising check.
"The Day you were Born" she had titled it, a letter to Beatrice.
I had never read anything so beautifully written. I had never read anything that made my heart hurt but yearn for the love that Angela felt about someone she had only met once. Pretty soon, tears streamed down my face, no matter how much I wish they hadn't.
Maggie, however, couldn't get a usable proxy to function. So, I logged in for her. I watched her read it. I watched the tears well up in her eyes, roll down her seemingly eternally-giggly face. I remember Hope walking up behind us, rereading the entry over Mags' shoulder.
I guess you realize who your true friends are at moments like that. You realize that you would do anything to make them stop crying because it hurts your soul to see them in pain. Chandler saw me crying that day. I told her she never would. I shouldn't use the word never. She didn't know what to do; she was almost afraid to touch me.
Nonetheless, I congratulate the Andrews family. Here's to Beatrice. Here's to best friends. Here's to Angela, the strongest 16 year old I know.

Later Days
Peace
H

Angela's Blog:

• http://goodheavensgwendolyn.wordpress.com
  

You know You were Meant to be a _____ when...

Vegetarian:

• You get excited when someone mentions that veggie kabobs will be served at a barbeque.
• You go to a school dance and the only thing stopping you from dancing with the cutie you've had your eye on is the fact that they smell like beef from their pre-dance dinner at Benihana's.
• That one episode of the Simpson's where they tell the kids what hot dogs are made of grosses you out.
• You adore PeiWei because you can get ANYTHING on the menu with tofu and vegetables instead of meat.
• It takes you more than a minute to chew a piece of steak, no matter how well or rare it's done.
• You get offended when people say that southerners are 'meat and potatoes people'.

Crazy cat lady:

• Even the cats that people say are "the mean ones" like you.
• You have names for future cats picked out in your head. (here's mine: Clawed Monet...)
• You talk to cats like they're people and don't use that obnoxious "Who's-a-good-kitty-You're-a-good-kitty" voice.
• Your friends already have your life planned out for you: marriage numero uno, divorce numero uno, 5 cats with one night stands optional.
• You knit for fun.
• You're tempted to hide other people's cats in your purse/murse so you can take it home with you.

Hippie:

• The background on your phone is from a Paul McCartney concert during the song "Give Peace a Chance", thus enabling you to see a bunch of random hands in the air and a giant glowing peace sign onstage.
• You turn out lights at restaurants, hospitals and school buildings when no one is a in a room so you can save the environment.
• You agree that the second day of Woodstock was the best of the 3 days. (Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, Santana, The Who all together?! come on, it must have been amazing.)
• You know that Woodstock was technically four days long because Jimi Hendrix didn't go onstage until midnight on the 3rd day.
• You think that the best Beatles songs were when they were all on pot, LSD, acid and who knows what else.
• Leo is your favorite character on That 70's Show because he sings 'Day by Day' in one of the episodes.
• You're a Godspell fan. :)

Just for grins.

Later Days
Peace
H