On a gloomy winter day of third grade, where clouds canopied the school, we were left out - we being myself, and a boy who, at the time, was a mere acquaintance of mine. The boy I sat across was named John - a perfectly normal name for a perfectly normal boy.

We sat atop the blue, plastic tunnel along with two other girls - popular, for sure - whose names served of no importance. We sat with them because there was no one else to sit with; because everyone wants to sit with the queens of the third grade. John and I sat, legs dangling beside each other, and laughed along with the jokes we hardly understood. The two girls sat facing us, turning to talk privately every so often. There was a feeling that came along with their conversations - a feeling that was sparked by anger and sadness - a question that was something along the lines of: "What are we doing wrong?"

I never asked the question - neither did John - but it was something like a fire that sparked inside my mind. For, it was clear to me, at least, that the girls had no real interest in speaking with us, even if they allowed us to sit with them and join their games.

And, it wasn't long before I chose to pipe up. "What are you talking about?" I asked, wrinkling my nose and creasing my brow. "You're talking too quietly to hear!"

I remember shooting a glance towards John, who shrugged his shoulders and didn't dare say a word.

"Can't you just tell me? W-were friends, right?" My innocence and intrigue were proving to cause me nothing but pain over the span of seconds it took them to formulate their answers.

The girls burst out in an ensemble of laughter that manifested as a slow, stab inside my chest. I could feel John move closer to me, whispering a few words under his breath. "Are they mad at us?"

"I don't know," I whispered back, choosing to divert my attention to whatever the girls were saying.

They looked as us with wide, forgiving eyes that meant nothing compared to what they said. "We don't want you sitting with us. Can you both just leave us alone?"

Their words hurt; shattered my nine-year-old heart. Exclusion was the price that came along with trying to be cool - if there even was such a thing in the third grade.

"Come on, John," I said with a creaking voice and later, a sigh. "Let's go somewhere else."

John looked in my direction and nodded, his voice equally hurt. "Okay." His voice was no louder than a whisper.

I pushed myself from the blue tunnel, my feet sinking into the moist sand. It was a cold day, as though the sun had seen what had been done and chosen to hide. John landed beside me, stumbling forward and landing on the equally cold grass. I carefully followed him, forcing myself to ignore the sand that trickled into my bright pink sneakers.

"Do you want to go to another structure?" John turned around and asked.

I thought for a moment and quickly came to a decision - I would love that. I had no one else to go to, and neither did he. Though the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I did have someone to go to, and he was standing right before me.

I pressed my lips into a thin smile. "Yeah, sure."

I walked beside him and reached for his hand - a gesture asking for nothing but comfort. He took my hand, our fingers loosely intertwined. For a moment, I thought I could feel the heat from the sun warming my face. The sun vanished when John looked up at me - he was a little shorter than me - and asked a new question.

"Do you think they think we're weird?"

In my head, I asked myself a question that I could not answer: Does it even matter?

"Come on," I chuckled, a smile pulling at my lips, "let's go be weird together."

I pulled John along towards another structure that raced with laughing kids and pairs of friends - best friends.

We could be best friends.