I sit in the seat, the cold leather up against my arm and my bag next to me. School was hell, the bus ride home was hell, everything was hell. But I don't have it bad.
I go to a school called Charlotte. It's a school where it's stereotype is 'rich white kids'. I'm not rich. Nor am I poor. The dress code is the normal, guys can't show their under wear and girls can't show anything. The school system sucks with this.
I have my phone in my hands and I check the time, three forty five.
The bus comes to a stop and I get frightened. My phone almost flies out of my hand, but I catch it in time. I notice a few people stand up and leave dangling to the ground as they walk. But I see someone, able to be pointed out from the crowd, biting his lip and looking anxious. His eyes are looking side to side glaring at people. I'm not gonna judge a book by its cover or anything, but he seems weird.
My eyes follow him out of the bus and then he sprints. I get out of my seat and throw my bag over my shoulders. I run and push my way through the crowd to the back and I see him run to his gate on the side of his house. He opens it and I watch him climb up a ladder into a room.
And he disappears.
I sit down on the seat closest to me. The time hasn't changed. I unlock my phone and text my mom, letting her know I'm still on the bus.
We hit up a few more stops before mine, but they weren't as important as the one with him.
The bus stops and I get up. I walk to the door and smell the fresh air that didn't smell as much as pubescent teenagers.
I walk to the door and open it with my key and lock it behind me.
I look at the pictures on the wall. My parents wedding pictures. My mom was beautiful like a 10 out of 10 and my dad didn't look bad. Under that is a picture of them shortly after I, the oldest of three, was born.
I set my bag on the seat under it. It's wooden and holds blankets, mainly. Sometimes I can sneak in there to focus on things.
I walk through the archway and I see my sectional, the flatscreen, and the desk in the corner. When I turn around I see the pictures of me and my siblings. I smile at it. I see them everyday but on the picture they aren't the spawn of satan.
I walk to the couch and I fall onto it. I don't turn anything on the television, I just think about why he wanted to be home so badly.
---
I see him. He looks tired and so I walk up to him, I have some questions.
"Hey," I say jogging to him.
"Do I know you?" He asks. He sounds kind of scared. He sounds sad, too.
"Probably not. But I noticed you yesterday,
The moment you got off the bus, you ran home. Why?" I ask.
"I don't want to talk about it." He tells me. I watch him walk away with his bag on his side.
I catch up with him. "Look, you can trust me."
"I can't trust anyone." He tells me.
"Yes, you can. Look, I might seem all big and tuff, but I know what it feels like to be sad."
"You shouldn't be sad." He grabs my face.
"I just want to know." I say. His warm hands on my cold face felt nice.
"I know we haven't known each other for a long time, but if you want to know, meet me in the amphitheater after school."
"Why?" I ask.
"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.
I run to my class and run in right before the bell rings. I sit in my desk and literally the only thing I think about is him.
He's so fascinating. The way he lights up when he's excited. The way he bites his lip when he's anxious. The way his hair is just combed up and it can stay there all day. The color of his eyes is brown. Not a bad brown but like a brown that you'd expect to see in turquoise or in a mineral. It's light. It's almost like the inside of an apple with bruises everywhere. It's not bad. I don't know how to say it. The color of his eyes are a nice brown not a shitty one. His lips are almost always chapped and his teeth are really white, they aren't exactly straight, there's that one in the front I've been begging him to fix. His legs are nice, and he probably exercises. I've been told his butt has a nice bounciness to it. I don't know why he doesn't fit in, so he says. I'm sure if he busted out of that shell he'd be the most popular person ever.
---
It's been a week since I first noticed him. And we've been talking ever since. Him and I are best friends, but we've never hung out outside of school, except for on the bus. I mean I get it, he wants to be there for his sister.
I really want to talk to him about something else, other than our lives. Like the deep stuff, his favorite movie? His favorite color? I want to know these things about him.
The bell rings loud and I walk to my next class. I can't wait to get in the bus and we can talk.
---
He sits on the seat next to me. I ask "what's your favorite color?" He looks at me crying.
"What?" He asks.
"What's your favorite color?" I repeat.
"Red." He says and he leans back.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Nothing," he lies.
"What is it?" I ask sternly.
"The people two rows behind us made fun of me because of my pink shirt." He says.
I stand up and jump over the empty seat and stare at them. "You make fun of him, talk to him or even look at him I will kill you." I say sternly.
"No you won't" one says with an eye roll.
"How do you know?" I ask with a deep face.
"You're just as weak as him." The other one says.
"Really, because I'm pretty sure I can lift more weight then you, what are you, three hundred pounds?" I ask the big one.
He throws his first punch and I dodge it. I grab him by his hair and slam his head against my bare knee. He fights back but I continue. I let go and they both try to hit me. I dodge them and hit two birds with one stone, with my foot. I then punch one in the face and he knocks out cold.
The fat one runs up behind me, I jump in the air and do a three-sixty kick. Right across the face. He runs towards me and I grab the top of the seats pick my self up. I jump behind him. He turns around and I kick the back of his knees. He falls and I walk away satisfied.
They both are in seats so it looks like they're sleeping, but they aren't. They are knocked out.
I walk back to my seat, and sit down on the other side of him. "As weak as you they said," he frowns "that means you can do that."
"How did you learn to do that?" He asks.
"My mom teaches karate and my dad was in the army, so both of me and my siblings know how to fight. It took three years, but maybe I can teach you in three days."
"How?" He asks.
"Simple. I come home with you everyday after school until you learn most of it." I answer with a triumphant face and body stance.
"Maybe but I can't ask my parents, they're barely home. And I can't go to your house." He says, his tears are dry, which make a me happy.
"Yeah, but my parents aren't home and my siblings go to my aunt's. I'm by myself until January."
"Where are your parents, it's November?" He says with his eyebrows in a questioning pose.
"They are in Georgia for a few months." I say. "We Skype and stuff for like a few hours every week. And I walk to my aunts every Friday for dinner. I'll come over today."
"Just invite yourself over." He states with a laugh. I laugh too. I get off when he gets off and we both run too his house. The air through my hair feels great. We get to the gate and he opens it. He throws his backpack on the couch.
"Do that again." I say handing him my backpack. He throws it and it lands right next to his. I nod in approval.
"I don't think you want to come up, you won't be able to handle it." He says with a frown.
"I think I can." I say. I climb up after him. He stops at the top and knocks on the window, I see a hand with bandages and cuts all over it open the window. He climbs in and helps me up. I jump in and land on a bed. I automatically get off, and notice that I was wrong.
There is blood everywhere. Water bottles on the floor. She sits in the corner of her bed. A razor blade in her right hand. And her he knees up to her chest. She wears a hospital gown and black shorts that in my opinion are too short. Her other hand is crossing over knees, and her right hand is resting on the left.
She has scars everywhere there is visible skin. Everywhere. Literally everywhere. Up her legs, down her arms and on her feet. All vertical. Some of them are fresh.
"Why does she do this?" I whisper in his ear.
"Before I was born mom and dad abused her. They started again when I was three and they blame all of their problems on her. Like because she is depressed by them they blame their problems on her so she does it more. She only lets me in. I make sure she eats at least one strawberry a day. And I check to make sure she doesn't throw it up. She used to just drink water. And I need her, that's why I protect her. I need her, here with me." He says. Quickly wiping away his tears.
She looks up, her eyes dark. She has pale skin and long brown greasy hair. She is bony.
"This is my friend. He is helping me with math."
"Ok" she whispers so quiet you can barely hear it.
We head out the window. I jump to the ground and I grab him. I drag him to the grass area. "Punch me" I say. He looks at me confused. "It won't hurt, trust me."
He punched me but I dodge it and grab his arm. I twist it behind him and he says "it hurts."
"You need to learn. Punch faster."
He punches as fast and as hard as he can, I barely dodge it. "Okay, now try to kick me."
He kicks me in the shins but I jump. And he falls. "What the hell." He states.
"Be careful where you aim your knee. If you aim with your knee before you aim they'll know where you are gonna kick it. So kick" I step back "like this" I kick him in the side and catch him with my arms before he hits the ground.
"Ouch" is all he says.
---
It's been a few weeks, and he has it down. He gave me a bloody nose and dislocated my knee. Then I put it back in place right after in front of him and he threw up. So I stayed to make sure he was okay. Which he was.
Today during lunch I changed into all red, red shirt, read jeans, red boots and I even wore a red wig. I wore a red belt and I ran around the whole school yelling his name. He chased me too, he wanted me to stop.
I'm on the bus and he comes right next to me. He has a smile and is really happy. "Why are you so happy?" I ask confused.
"I finished my homework and broke the fat ones nose." He says.
"Careful, he'll-" before I can finish he's off in the fat ones hands.
"Let him go!" I yell. I chase the guy and pull him out of his arms.
I push him away and kick the fat guy. He grabs me and kicks my side and I think I broke some ribs.
I look up and the fat one is on the ground. And I look who did it. Him. He helps me up. "Are you-"
I interrupt "yeah I'm fine."
I walk back to the seat and sit. Holding my sides I text my aunt, 'I think I broke some ribs' I send.
'I'll take you to the hospital after I drop off your siblings, okay?'
'Yeah, I'll be home.' And that's it.
"You sure your okay?" He asks again.
"Yeah. I think so at least."
---
I sit in the room at the hospital. Bandages on my side. The doctor walks in. "It's just bruised. Take this pain relief and it will be back to normal in no time. Keep them on when you sleep. And change them twice a week. Should take a week or two." He says. He gives me the prescription and I leave.
She takes me to the drug store and we leave the prescription and I'll pick it up tomorrow.
I get dropped off at home. I walk in, and I see my siblings. "What are you doing here?" I ask.
The youngest one, my brother, answers "guess who's home early" and I know who. I jog past them and see my parents sitting at the table with a gift for me. I run up and give them a hug. They hug me tight. My dad isn't the skinniest. He has a baby face and barely any hair. He used to have a beard, but my mom and I don't like beards so he shaves it. He wears jeans and a v-neck shirt.
My mom is beautiful. She's a natural beauty. She wears cat-eyed glasses, they are red. Her hair is naturally brown but she dyes it auburn. She has a thicker body style than the normal moms but a good size for her age. She wears black shorts and a tank top. I give her a hug and she smells like my childhood.
"When did you guys get back?" I ask with tears filling my eyes.
"Just an hour ago. We're all going to People's Choice Pizza to celebrate." My sister, the middle child, says.
"I didn't ask you though." I say sarcastically. My parents give me a stern look, "I was joking" I say.
They give me the gift and I open it. It's a golden leaf pendent with a smaller butterfly one. I don't put it on my neck because I don't want it to break at the pizza restaurant.
We walk in and we buy two large pepperoni pizzas and a side salad to share.
I sit and eat with my parents. We talk about how the trip was for them and they told me it wasn't important.
They ask me about my friend and I tell him he's just a friend who's sister is battling deep depression.
They ask me how I've been. I said okay. But I'm not good at lying.
---
It's the end of the day. A Monday. And over the break he hasn't answered my texts. I hope he's okay.
I walk to my locker, number four-hundred and thirty-four. I turn my combination in, eight, thirty-four, and seventeen. It opens and I grab my books. I'm happy my parents are back but I'm sad that I have homework, and that I'm supposed to binge-watch the rest of 'Boy Meets World' today. I hope I still can though.
I put my books in my back pack and throw it over my shoulder. I walk to the bus and sit in a seat. He sits next to me. He has a frown on his face.
The ride was silent until I asked him something. "How was your weekend?"
Silence.
"My parents are back and want to meet you."
Silence.
We get to his bus stop and he walks off. My heart breaks, he doesn't run, he doesn't sprint.
He walks home today.