How To Run

"You want to know, don't you?" He answers. He walks away. I'm shocked.

---

I stand in the theater. Nervous, anxious, and frightened. He told me to meet him here and he isn't here.

"Sorry I'm late, we better run to the bus before they leave." He says.

I jog up the stairs and stand next to him. We both run to the buses, on the other side of the school. I've never actually ran this fast, this is the fastest I've ever ran, then again I rarely run.

We get to the bus right before the doors close. We sit in the middle of the bus and the out side seat when facing the back. I sit by the window and he sits by the aisle. The bus starts and we leave.

"So, why do you run home?" I ask.

"Wow, you have to be so passionate about it? I'll tell you the story." He pauses and cups his hands into each other. When he talks he doesn't make eye contact. "Ever since I was in the last year of junior high, my sister has been depressed and suicidal. She graduated last year but she hasn't left her room since. She doesn't eat and when she does she forces it back up. She has claw marks on her stomach and gashes on her wrist and slotted thighs. Everyday after school" his lips start quivering "I run through the backyard" he starts shedding tears "climb up a ladder to her room" he starts letting them flow "and check to make sure she isn't hung in the closet, or dead on the floor, or everywhere in the room."

He stops and all I hear are the sobs. He looks like he doesn't have to deal with this pain. He isn't sleepy and his bags under his eyes aren't there. He normally has a smile and his eyes are smiling more than his lips. It's easy to hide pain behind a smile, but it's hardest to hide a smile in the eyes. The harder you try, the worse it is. He must have a lot of practice. 

This was not happening for only two years, it was longer.

I feel bad for making him say that. I take his shoulder and I hug him. His tears land on my shoulder and they go through the stitching of my sweater. I let him continue, let him cry until the bus stops. He stands up grabs his bag and races out and down the street.

I feel a tear hit my cheek and I quickly wipe it away. I don't want anyone to notice.

---

I walk into my house and don't even stop to stare or look or anything. I walk right passed the couch, the dining room and kitchen. I walk right into the hallway- right next to the dining room which is right across from the kitchen which is behind  the couch area. And right behind the wall where the television is connected on is the master bedroom. I let my bag fall, I throw myself against the wall and slide down it. I plop on the floor. My head falls onto my knees and I can't stop myself from letting the tears out.

I can't help my unsteady breathing. I can't help the amount of tears coming from my eyes. I can't help from feeling this way. I can't help it, I just can't.

---

The next day it's in the morning and I meet up with him. We walk to his locker and we talk before the first bell rings. He tells me that he has no friends. I told him that's a lie because I consider him my friend, so I'm already his. We exchange phone numbers, his phone is the generation behind mine. And I notice his collarbone shows from under his shirt. His sweater is rolled up to almost his elbows and you can see his veins. He has no lines of hatred, I call them, which makes me feel happy. He seems too nice to be falling apart deep down inside. 

The bell rings and I walk him to his next class, which is Biology. It's on the other side on the campus and now I know why he runs everywhere. I give him a hug goodbye and tell him to meet me at his locker at our lunch and he smiles and nods.