Freshly Dusted

Considering myself the leader of the four -now five- of us, I initiated discussion. Throughout though, I watched the girl, who listened attentively to everything we said, making eye contact and nodding, but never once saying a word. Meeting her smile with my own, I occasionally asked, “So what about you? Freshman or sophomore?”

She laughed a little and said, “Well, considering this is my fourth year, since I started when I was twelve, you could call me a sophomore if you’d like to.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she finished the last bite of her burger, concentrating on it as if she hadn’t just said something completely astounding.

There was a moment of silence, and then Miguel hooted, and we began to pester her with questions. Her eyes danced in delight, conscious that she had become the center of attention.

“How else?” she asked. “I was homeschooled.” After that, any thoughts that I had of being the leader of the group were thrown out the window. She yanked the reins from me, spinning out bits of information here, controlling the narrative there, and leaving us hanging on her every word. The whole conversation, she had just been waiting for the perfect moment, and when she was given an opportunity, she seized it. She talked to each of us like we were the only person in the world, and laughed with us at our poor attempts at humor.

Eventually, she checked the time on her phone and stood, slinging her backpack onto her shoulder in the same smooth motion she had set it down. “Well, it’s been fun, but I’ve got a job to apply to, so wish me luck!” the girl said.

We all did, already missing her company, and she began to walk away. Suddenly, she turned, came running back, and said, “Wait! I didn’t get your names!” Going around the table, she memorized some and forgot others, before nodding to herself and turning back.

“What about yours?” I called out.

She chuckled at her own overthought. “It’s Ashlyn.”

“That’s a pretty name,” I said.

She laughed, thanked me, and Miguel, obviously entranced with the girl, spoke up. “Hey, do you have a Snapchat?”

Ashlyn hesitated, while we all waited breathlessly for her answer, and I think that is when she realized for the first time that she was surrounded by four guys. There was another difference between us, one that we had all seen from the beginning. The four of us had dreams of a better life. She had plans. So when she spoke, her answer did not surprise me. “No,” she said apologetically, reluctant to walk away, but disinclined to stay longer.

Still, I couldn’t help but mourn what had been lost in that moment, but as she strode confidently away, I whispered her name to myself again. I would remember it.