Page 3 of Before We’re More Than Friends (When We Faced the Music #1)

Raina

SIX YEARS AGO

D ear Chloe V,

Hey! It’s really nice to meet you. It’s honestly hilarious that you think you’re lame. Wait, that sounds very mean. You get what I’m trying to say, right? First thing, I relate to you on a spiritual level in several departments. I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting along at all. Also, please

“Raina!”

I took out one of my earphones and moaned.

“Raina!” my twin sister, Arielle, shouted again, practically kicking down the door like a cop. The girl had no idea what knocking was and didn’t seem to care about how crazy it drove me.

“I heard you the first time!” I yelled, my blood boiling.

“You didn’t reply the first time.”

I huffed. “Where’s the fire?”

She dodged my sarcasm. “You’re supposed to be ready for your appointment.”

“But it’s not time—” I glanced at the white digital clock on my nightstand. Shoot, it was 3:36 p.m. My appointment was at four on the dot. “Crap.”

“You have four minutes. Hurry up.” She slammed the door, and I heard her footsteps bounce down the stairs. Even our dog had quieter footsteps.

I rolled my eyes. She was just annoyed that she couldn’t be left home alone because both our parents were coming.

This school year, my fear of accidents had heightened to lengths that drove me crazy.

The smallest things set me on edge, causing me to check things over and over again.

If someone had been cooking before we left the house, I’d ask four times if the stove was off.

Always four times. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get rid of the repetitive thoughts.

I didn’t understand why my family got upset when I got so panicked over stuff like that. Plenty of people had constant thoughts of something bad happening, right? The other specialists I’d gone to had been wrong about me before—what made this one any different?

I put on black leggings, tossed a book into my purse to read in the car, and went downstairs to where my family was waiting.

“We were about to pull you out of your room and throw you into the car,” Mom said with a smile.

“Wouldn’t that be kidnapping?” I asked.

Dad chuckled. “Not if it’s your own child.”

“I respectfully disagree.”

“I’ll pull you guys out of here and into the car if we don’t leave now,” Arielle said, jumping up and down as if we were waiting in line for a Disney ride.

All three of us rolled our eyes. Maybe this girl needed an appointment to deal with her hyperactivity. But I knew it was just her personality, just like my issues were part of mine. No “specialist” could disagree.

Dear Chloe V,

Hey! It’s really nice to meet you. It’s honestly hilarious that you think you’re lame.

Wait, that sounds very mean. You get what I’m trying to say, right?

First thing, I relate to you on a spiritual level in several departments.

I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting along at all.

Also, please excuse my handwriting. It’s nowhere near as neat as yours, but I’m trying my best. My dog has better handwriting than me.

My class is doing this pen pal program, so I didn’t have a choice in it.

BUT that doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you, because I do.

Actually, I’m super excited for you to get my letter so you can write back to me.

Also, sorry about the middle name thing.

I wasn’t sure what to expect (I will admit that getting a creepy old man was one of my worries, but just for a few seconds) and our school let us go by whatever we wanted that wasn’t inappropriate.

Feel free to call me Alex for now. Alexander makes me sound fancy (for the record, I play in the mud with my dog when it rains). Maybe we can make a guessing game to find out our real names. I’ll start—mine starts with a letter. Joking! I hope that wasn’t lame.

Believe it or not, my birthday is actually on Valentine’s Day.

I hate it with a burning passion. I don’t want to see a bunch of couples holding hands and making out on my special day.

What’s even more annoying is the amount of times people say to me, “Oh, it’s your birthday too?

Really?” when I already told them beforehand.

Because of this injustice that was put upon me at birth (literally), I only celebrate my birthday the day before.

I’m also ten and in fifth grade, and I feel your hatred for school.

Nothing meaningful is ever taught in between these four walls.

Sadly, to be a vet, I’m going to have to go through a lot of schooling.

Hopefully, it’ll be worth it. My mom is a vet at our local animal shelter, and she has the best job in the world.

Even though I’m not old enough to volunteer yet, me and my best friend visit all the time.

Speaking of my best friend, I only have one friend, too.

His name is Toby (he says hi!), and he’s the only guy in my grade who gets me.

He also wants to be a vet. Maybe we’ll work at the same clinic.

I can’t imagine my life without him because he’s so freaking awesome and funny.

And sometimes a bit too honest, but he has his limits.

We have a Tree (yes, capital T) that we sit on and watch the sunset while our dogs play around.

I also have a big sister, Kami, who is like a friend to me.

She’s a year older and in middle school, but she also wants to be a vet.

I have a lot of favorite foods. I think creamy mac and cheese and pepperoni pizza tie as my favorites. Honestly, I’ll eat anything you give me. Except for sushi. Please, never give me sushi. My parents love it, and I’m genuinely concerned for them.

I know you’ve been waiting for me to tell you about my dog (or maybe I’m just bad at reading minds through paper).

His name is Houston (please don’t laugh), he’s a black Lab, and he is my other best friend.

He understands me very well for not even being a human, and I love him for it.

He loves being outside and constantly begs me to do something when I’m in my room for too long.

I usually take him for walks around the neighborhood, even though my parents are worried about me being kidnapped when I do it alone.

Toby and I have our dogs go on playdates.

Animals are really just the best, especially dogs.

I don’t think there is a better species out there (no offense).

I love that you’re into making jewelry. Screw what your dad thinks, indeed. Owning a business is a “practical job” whether it’s the most stable or not. Also, I’d love a bracelet! I’ll pay you if you don’t do it for free. Green is my favorite color, but I’ll be happy with anything you come up with.

Music is also one of my favorite things.

Seriously, even though pursuing being a vet is my main goal, I’d love to make music on the side.

I play several guitars but mainly the acoustic and the rhythm.

If I had a band, I’d for sure be the lead singer, even though I’m never the lead in anything.

Sometimes I even write songs. Well, I try to write them.

I’m pretty bad at it. Here’s something I pulled out of my alternative for butt a few weeks ago that totally wasn’t written about my crush .

What’s the point of material things

When in a million years they couldn’t bring

The glorious joy that you give me inside.

Yeah, it sounds like a badly written worship song. It doesn’t even relate to how I feel about her anything. Maybe one day I’ll be the next . . . I don’t know, who’s a popular male songwriter who also sings? That one British redhead? I can’t remember his name.

I hope you enjoyed this letter as much as I enjoyed writing it and reading yours. I can’t wait for you to write me back. If you want to. I totally understand if you don’t. I’ll only cry myself to sleep for a little bit (I hope you can tell that I’m joking. Mostly).

Your new friend,

Alex F ☆

For the first time since my diagnosis, a warm grin spread across my face. When I’d come home from my appointment a few days ago, I hadn’t been in the mood to finish reading the letter. I knew it wasn’t fair to Alex that I hadn’t written a response, but my mind was full of everything wrong with me.

I glanced at the book that my new psychologist had given me. Living with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Even the title made my skin crawl. Of course it made sense to give a ten-year-old a 400-page book about a mental disorder with a name they couldn’t remember at the top of their head.

But I knew they hadn’t jumped to conclusions this time. I’d taken too many tests over the past few months, and the harm area of obsessive-compulsive disorder was what fit best with my problems.

The paranoid thoughts I’d been having had to do with checking compulsions.

Even though my psychologist had explained in detail about my disorder, my ears were buzzing for most of the conversation.

My parents were the ones who had to rehash what she’d said to me.

This is why you’re worried about accidents happening and feel the need to do things over and over again. It’ll be okay. You’re not broken.

But I was broken. I would’ve much rather been over-paranoid about everything than have a mental condition attached to my name. Anything but that.

“You’ll have to answer him at some point.”

I sighed, facing my best friend Isabelle Wilcox, who was sitting on the floor with Penrose as she rubbed her black and brown fur. “I will right now.”

“Want me to leave the room?”

Penrose kissed her nose, and she giggled and kissed her back.

“No, it’ll be easier if you stay.”

“I know you’re going through a hard time with your OCD, but I’m not enjoying sad Raina.” She frowned. “If you want, we can take Penrose to the park once you’re done writing your boy from Texas.”