Pesky Girl

"I can take any picture, any snippet of words, and make a story."

These were the first words out of her mouth, and I hardly knew how to handle them.

A freshman, one I had barely acknowledged moments before in class, was talking to me, saying that sentence with ease. I didn't know what to say in response, and she was looking at me with such expectation.

"Um…that's nice, I guess."

"Are you a sophmore?" Her head tilted to the side, inquiring with those big green eyes. I grimaced at their stare.

"Erm, junior, actually."

"Cool! I was only a year off." She smiled in content. She probably would have had the smile on her face even if she was two or three years off. Even if she had guessed correctly. I nodded, then continued on my way to the cafeteria, wishing I had a different companion.

"So, whaddya think of Ms. Jones?"

"Well, um, I guess she's okay…I had her last year."

"Oh? Are you re-taking the class, or did you have her for a different subject?"

"Retake. I'm failing."

"Really? I LOVE her class, and it's only the third day!" Her expressive eyes shone with excitement, and she did a little dance right there in the hall, books clutched to her chest, right in front of everybody. When someone made a despairing remark, she simply smiled sweetly in their direction.

My dignity slipped down a few notches. Here I was, a perfectly respectable junior, completely male in everything, with a keen resentment for anything and anyone not in my field of interest, and this little freshman girl (although 'little' seemed hardly appropriate for a girl who was 5'9"in height), with a scrawny frame, hunched shoulders, flyaway blonde hair, and a sweatshirt three times her size, was chatting away with me like I was one of her gal pals. Like we were the 'bestest of buds'!

Next thing I knew, I would be eating salads with her and gossiping about guys. I shuddered, and tried to lose her in the crowded hallways. No luck. She was persistent.

"Do you have any pets at home? I do. I have two cats and a parakeet. My cats are named Isaac and Spike, and my parakeet's fondly known as Bob. I had a pet dog, but he passed away not too long ago. I was raised around him; in fact, he was the older one. So, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you have any pets?" Again with those probing eyes! The girl was a pest AND nosy, that was plain to see.

"No. I had an ant farm for a while, but I fried them in the end." Not really, but she didn't have to know that. Maybe she'd leave me alone now that she knew I was a brutal ant slayer.

"I've always wanted to try chocolate covered ants. Is that bizarre? I've just always wanted some, ever since I heard about them. But no way would I try those dried crickets! Did you know that crickets can become infected with this parasite known as a hairworm? The parasite slowly possesses the cricket's body, leaving only it's head and brain. Then, it forces the cricket to head to the nearest body of water, and drowns it; the hairworm comes out of the cricket now, and goes to mate with other hairworms. That's just gross, right?"

I blinked. How did she breathe while talking that fast? I could never do it. Neither could any other person I knew. She wasn't human! I couldn't even remember her name, and already I knew that this girl was an alien species. As if she could read minds, the girl jumped, and apologized.

"Here I am blathering away, and we haven't even been properly introduced. My name's Calantha, but you can call me Callie. It's Greek, so no worries with trying to pronounce it."

"Derek."

"Nice to meetcha!" Her spritely eyes glimmered with a sort of exuberance, and she swiftly put out a hand. I stared at it as if it were some kind of nuclear bomb.

"To shake, silly. Since we've just been properly introduced."

Slowly, I took the hand, and went through the motions of shaking it.

"You have a very loose and unprofessional grip, ya know that? I took this one class two years ago…Career Decisions, it was called. You were graded on the sort of handshake you presented…the one you would use for an interview. Not too pushy, not too limp. Goldilocks style, as our teacher would say. Anywho, you can tell a lot about a person by the way they shake hands."

I glanced at Callie out of the corner of my eye. And? Wasn't she going to go on about how I seemed utterly disinterested with what she was saying, and how my handshake reflected upon that? Nope. Not a word, although she did stare up at me in a funny way.

Finally, we reached the cafeteria. I muttered something about meeting up with some friends (yeah, right!), and scurried off, leaving her by the entranceway. Soon she was engulfed in the crowd of bodies, and I was off.

I got my lunch from the vending machines, and sat at one secluded table in the corner. I opened my can of Pringles, and began chewing, before wondering why it was so quiet. I mean, I heard the background noise of all the rest of the student populace, but near me it was oddly silent.

It was the absence of her chatter. I had quickly, over the space of a few minutes, grown used to it, and missed it.

Why? Callie was a pest. A know-it-all. A little nerd who loved school.

Still…her chatter was addictive.

When I found Callie, she was sitting on her own. Completely alone, friendless, that was what she was. It kinda reminded me about my own status in the popularity stratum. I cleared my throat, and she looked up at me.

She smiled, and I sat down next to her.

"So…what was that you said about hairworms?"

And she was off.