How to Save a Life

Chapter Four ~ Confessions (Cailin)

I walked into the kitchen and took out the lasagna from the dark grey fridge, set it on the black marble counter and turned on the oven which matched the fridge. I retrieved my bag from where I left it and started up the stairs.

"I guess I will show you around the house." I stated in a not so confident and extremely nervous tone. For me, this was strange having somebody "over" because I don't like people really, and just stay away from them because I live in fear of being hurt.

Now that I think about it, I'm not so different from my sister. We both are restricted in some emotional or physical way. 'But she isn't a loner, or socially awkward with people.' the little voice in my head said.

'I'm not socially awkward though!' I replied to the evil little part of my brain that was trying to make me hate myself more. I don't even remember this twisted development forming anywhere in the midst of my head.

"You probably hear this a lot, but this house is epic! I mean honestly I haven't ever seen one this big in our community!" Ethan exclaimed.

"Yeah, the only people that really come out here are the customers and employees, and well, us." I replied quietly. Once we reached my room, I walked into my closet and hung up my coat and threw my bag on the floor of the closet. I heard the math text book hitting the floor with a loud thud, and I stared at the stupid math book, then walked out nonchalantly.

It hit me that he had to be thinking of something rather than to just be here because of football. Why can't I understand boys?! They are apparently "so easy to read", but I feel like I have a blindness and that is it.

I had doubts that he came just to tell me about football. I don't know anybody who couldn't just call me. I mean, there are still phone books out there. But I guess my trust and faith in the human race has gone down, seeing as half of them live for cellphones. It is apparently considered a "first world problem" if your phone battery is at five percent.

"What was that?" Ethan said curiously. I didn't realize the kid was going to be there as soon as I turned out the door and ran into his chest.

"Sorry," I blurted out. "I didn't realize you were right there."

As I started to step backwards out of my daze, Ethan's firm hands held me by both my shoulders. He looked down at me and I up at him.

"What are you doing?" I questioned shakily. I wasn't used to being less than five feet, let alone half a foot away from a gorgeous heart stopper.

"You truly don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" Ethan asked spontaneously. "The football and cross country stuff was just an excuse, but I thought by now you would've asked why I came here other than the other shit - why I've stayed."

"What are you trying to say, Ethan?" I demanded with absolutely no hint or speckle of confidence.

"I have a crush on you. That is what I have wanted to tell you since grade eight." He confessed some what frustrated. "The guys always bug me about it, and tell me to make a move."

"This is coming up now?" I fumed. "You used to make fun of me! You drove me to near suicide! How in the hell do you like me? You made my life what was and is a living hell!"

From grade four to grade nine, Ethan and his clique always bugged me. When I was young, it was about my clumsiness, my looks, my clothes because they were not brand name, or my hair wasn't styled to flawless perfection, and I tripped occassionally. They called me a bad athlete because I didn't always get the goal, or win first place, and whenever I wore shorts or a swim suit, they made  fun of the birthmark that goes from right underneath my ribs to my knee on my left side. They used to say I was the wrong answer someone tried to erase, but couldn't get the job done. They called me mean names, that at the time I wasn't allowed to say but now I do. They used to call me a disease, running away from me at recesses and staying away from me in classes.