Meet my frenemy….

Allison: So … how do we begin our story?

Deepti: Once upon a time there was an old hag named Allison Chang …

Allison: Excuse me! I believe there is a different beginning. Allow me to start this off: “Once upon a time, there was a little dwarf, known as Deepti Kannan.” Ah, that’s a bit better.  

Deepti: I think you got that wrong. This is how it really begins. There were once two girls in third-period newspaper, who met on the glorious day of … wait. When was it again?

Allison: This is why I should be writing the story; Deepti is clearly incapable. We met in the Journalism Room on the first day of class, the day that ruined my life for all eternity. 

Deepti: When I first met Allison, she freaked me out with her lecture on copy-editing, the art of reviewing finished layouts and scavenging them for little itty-bitty mistakes, like a vulture picking out the dead remains of animals. (Yes, the job was perfect for Allison). After watching her elaborate PowerPoint detailing her strict rules of copy-editing, I had a feeling this girl was pretty scary, but I had not seen the worst of it.

Allison: We actually became friends after Deepti was assigned to work with me on her first newspaper layout. It was a frustrating experience, to say the least. I was doing my usual thing while Deepti kept interrupting me with questions, slowing me down.

Deepti: I would also like to add that Allison never let me touch the mouse while working on the layout. Obviously, she would leave that part out. 

Allison: To be honest, I really don’t know how we became friends. We have nothing in common, other than our newfound obsession for perfect pica spacing. Deepti is insanely into piano. I haven’t touched a piano in over 13 years. Also, she enjoys running cross country, while I refuse to even run 50 meters to the lunch line. I can’t comprehend this girl.

Deepti: Allison is absolutely tone deaf, while I will probably be the next American Idol … someday. 

Allison: Actually, I think I can sing pretty well. 

Deepti: OK, Allison, you keep singing along to K-pop in the back of the Journalism Room while everyone else cringes.

Allison: It was a mentor-student relationship. Deepti frequently emails me at 1 a.m., begging for help on her English essays. Too often, her essays make me want to stab my eyes out. Her poor printer … it has to print such essays. 

Deepti: I wouldn’t say they are that bad, but Allison can be overly harsh. One time, when reviewing my essay, she said it was “meh,” and I jumped up and down with glee; that was the nicest feedback I had ever received from her. Regardless, at least her comments helped. I got a 100 percent on that essay. Thanks, bud! 

 Allison: I’m not sure if I’ve gotten anything positive out of our friendship. Though I can say that I have had a mountain-load of frustration and many sore throats from shouting at her so much. Once, during deadline night, I was busy, and Deepti literally chased me around the classroom; I honestly don’t know why. She grabbed onto my arm and I could not get away. Ask anyone. It was horrific. 

Deepti: (I think she means it was exciting and fun!) Anecdotes aside, although this column has been mostly us throwing insults at each other, deep down (and I mean really, really deep down. Think the depths of the Pacific), I have to say I love that pica-obsessive, essay-destroying, pale-skinned vampire of a junior. 

Allison: I’ll agree with this pipsqueak. Overall, it’s been a pretty good run with this little one. Lots of chaos, lots of noise, lots of fun. She never ceases to both amaze and annoy me.

Allison and Deepti: Wait, what were we supposed to write again? Shoot, our editor is going to kill us. Oh well. Hang out with us sometime, and you’ll see what we mean by “frenemies.”