The Boy at the End of the Street

Dylan Rocksbury. A shy boy, but adventurous at heart. I caught him climbing up the Emerson's oak tree the other day, he's lucky I didn't tell on him. He'd never seen me before, and I intended to keep it that way. It's not that I didn't want to meet him, I was just sure we would never click, ya know? The only thing I really knew about him was his name and where he lives. Wow, that sounded weird. Scratch that. I've just seen him leave a few times is all. It's a nice house, green and white, with clean windows and a nice porch. I was kind of jealous. But at the same time, I wasn't. Recently rumors had spread throughout the neighborhood about screams that shake the trees, supposedly coming from Dylan's house.

My eyes opened suddenly, and all I could see was darkness. It was nighttime. I checked my alarm clock, blinking red with the numbers 3:21. Why on Earth did I wake up? I peeked out my window, pulling back the curtain, letting small rays of streetlight into my room. Down the road, I could see a boy, standing directly under a streetlamp. He looked anxious, and I could tell he was shaking from nearly 100 feet away. The natural response in me forced me to slip on my shoes and leave the house, slowly walking closer to the boy, who was most definitely frightened. It was freezing, and he wore only shorts and a torn t-shirt, nearly falling off of his body. As I inched closer, I could see that it was Dylan. I couldn't recognize him in the dark.

"Dylan?" I asked, but didn't hear a response. He was still shaking, and even faster now. I would be lying if I didn't say I was a little scared. I was out alone, at night, with a boy. A parent's worst nightmare.

I walked over to him, and gave him the jacket I had on. I wrapped it around him, and he turned to me, confused.

I looked down, and could see several fresh bruises on his legs. Someone hurt him, and badly.

"Are you okay? Your legs," I said, pausing hesitantly, "they're bruised. What happened?" I asked, when he suddenly wrapped his arms around me, and rested his head on my shoulders. I was in shock, but not in a bad way. A boy was hugging me!

"Thank you," he said, barely holding back tears, "thank you so much!". He hugged me tighter, letting his emotions go.

"My parents," Dylan spoke after a few minutes," they've been hurting me. They've been hurting me because I'm gay." he said, falling to his knees.

I was surprised, and not in a bad way. I was happy for him. He wasn't afraid to be himself, despite what his parents did to him. It was the most honorable thing I'd ever seen.

"Dylan," I said, crouching down next to him, filled with kindness, "you are an amazing boy."