Talk // Chris Martin

7.

That day, I found out a few things about Chris.

I learned that he loves tea, music, and the stars. He told me the bands he likes, and his dislikes and fears.

I told him mine, too.

He gave me the piece of paper with his lists on it, so I could keep it and always remember the things about him, and I gave him mine.

I just never told him why I couldn't talk.

That night, I got home right before Joseph did. I didn't tell him that I was with Chris, even though he was wondering why I was dirty again.

After dinner, I showered, before heading to bed.

I laid and stared at the ceiling for hours, thoughts of my new friend running through my head.

Thursday, September 13th, 1994

When I awoke, my alarm hadn't gone off yet, but I still decided to get up since I was excited to get to school.

I got out of my bed, going to my closet and picking out an outfit, before changing into it.

Afterwards, I went out to the kitchen, and again, Joseph wasn't out there. This time, he left a note on the microwave.

I'll be at work late again. Dinner is in the freezer.

I sighed a little, before going over and opening the fridge, deciding to only have a glass of milk for breakfast. By the time I finished the milk, it was a bit early, but I didn't mind walking to school early if I could run into Chris again.

I made my way over to the door, picking up my hoodie and slipping it on over my arms. I put my shoes on quickly, then grabbed my backpack before heading out the door.

I began to walk down the sidewalk, looking up at the sky.

It was a hazy day, and looked as if it could start raining any minute. Though I loved rain, I didn't necessarily want to be drenched in it, so I began to run.

As I ran down the street, though, I never ran into Chris.

And when I got to school, I didn't see him.

At lunch, I couldn't go to my bench, because it was raining. I looked all over the cafeteria for Chris, but he was nowhere to be seen. I could see Phil, but he was talking to someone, and I didn't want to bother him. So I sat alone in the corner as I ate.

I was peacefully eating, until I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Ella."

I looked up, my heart beginning to pound in my chest as my eyes met Ethan's.

"Where's Chris?" He asked.

I swallowed, and he leaned in.

"He left you, didn't he?" He Asked, chuckling. "Did you really expect he'd actually want to be friends with you?"

I started to stand, but he pushed me back into my chair.

"I told you that you couldn't trust him." He said.

I bit my lip, clenching my fists and standing up, pushing him away from me.

I stomped my foot for extra measure, before turning around and walking away.

After school, I wasn't sure where to go. It was still sprinkling, so I doubted that Chris would be down in the woods, but I had nowhere else to go. I could go home, since I didn't forget my key this time, but I didn't really want to sit inside all alone.

So I went into the woods.

It took me a bit, since I wasn't very good at hiking on my own, but I made my way through to the creek.

As I pushed the tree branches out of the way, I saw a figure sitting on the rock. I bit my lip nervously, walking over quietly. As I got closer, I saw the person's curly hair, and realized that it was Chris. He was soaking wet, meaning he must've been here all day, through the rain.

I reached over, tapping him on the shoulder gently. He turned, but when his eyes met mine, they weren't happy like they typically were.

"Oh Hi, Ella." He said.

I pointed at the spot on the rock beside him, and he nodded. I sat down next to him, looking at him as he stared at the creek.

There was silence for a minute or two, and then he spoke.

"My parents and I have had a fight." He mumbled.

I titled my head a little, and he looked over at me.

"I didn't feel like coming to school.." he said. "I'm sorry."

I nodded, patting him on the shoulder to reassure him that it was alright.

He looked back down, sighing. I laid my hand in his back, rubbing it as we both watched the creek.

I decided that he shouldn't be out here in the cold and rain anymore, so I tapped him on the shoulder.

He looked up at me, and I did the pen and paper thing again with my hands.

"Oh, yeah." He said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a small notepad and pen. "Here."

He handed them to me, and I took them, opening the pen and writing quickly.

Do you want to come to my house?

I handed him the notepad, and was he read it, his eyes lit up.

"Really?" He asked.

I nodded.

A small smile crept up on his face. "That would be nice."