Gift of a Lifetime

Chapter 2: A New(York) Life- I

I had started a new life. I am fourteen now. I never told anyone about what happened before I was Thomas. I didn't think I ever would.

The days in our apartment in Texas weren't so great. Singular moments of subtle bickering very quickly turned into angry fights almost every night. I was twelve then. My mother and father didn't get on so well after I had relapsed and started on therapy. Arguing over money, whether I'm faking or not, or just simply insulting each other out of anger(though I could tell my mother regretted every word she said afterwards). This would often result in one of the two getting kicked out onto the couch for the night.

But one rainy day, I had come home to my mother sitting alone at the dining table. I knew immediately something was off, and later learned that my dad left, leaving divorce papers on the kitchen counter. Her face was blank, staring into her halfway-filled coffee cup. Her eyes were pink and dark -a mix of eye bags and the after effect of crying. I didn't know what to do; all I did was take her hand in mine and send her a reassuring look.

It's gonna be okay, mom, I wanted to tell her. But I was frozen with shock myself -deep down I'd known this was going to happen from the start, but when it happened, I didn't believe it.

I was beside her, holding her hand when she signed the papers. I wondered if whoever registered divorces would be concerned about the crumpled circles from tears on the pages. Or perhaps it was a common thing.

That was the day my life switched itself around. My mother had fallen into depression. She didn't clean up after herself, did a bad job at work, and eventually got fired. I came home on the second last of seventh grade, after I had gotten punched in the face for protecting a girl, and she was crying again. She sat on the couch in the same place as she did when my dad left, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, her face wet with tears.

She looked at me and smiled. Drowning in concern, I sat next to her on the couch. She wrapped her arms around me gently, and we just sat there together in the silence for a few moments, before she spoke.

What happened, baby? she asked me. She picked up her hand to push hair out of my eyes and brushed the bruise on my cheekbone.

I was protecting her, Momma.

She smiled at me. That was the first real smile I'd seen in days. Did it work?

I took my hand in hers and nodded. He won't be bothering her again.

She let out a breath a pulled me into her arms. I remembered how this felt with my other mom. The only thing that was different was that I didn't rest my head on her shoulder or her chest. She just wrapped her arms around me. And that was okay.

What do you say we get out of here, she asked me when we pulled away. I looked at her, confused and scared. Then when I realized I could escape this place, with the bad memories everywhere I look, or the fact I can't go anywhere without transportation, I smiled. Don't get me wrong, Texas is great, but it just wasn't for me. Or mom.

So we moved to New York City. It was great. You could walk anywhere, every place is new, and the majority of the population is very welcoming. Though sometimes the streets were crowded, I loved it.

Once school started back up, I went a school in which the middle school and high school are mixed together(I had a kindergarten through eighth grade school, so it was new to me). For a while, I had no friends. It didn't bother me, though. I enjoyed keeping to myself and not having to be bothered about do you wanna hang out? or any type of drama in which would most likely tear me apart. I didn't think I could handle any type of friendship drama, so why bother?

We were reading this big fat book for history class, Purple Skies, about a boy who travels through space and time and learns a lot about the history of the world. But the problem is, he has a bad mindset. There's this one time, when he has to fight an alien, and he's all pessimistic and discouraged about it and gives up, when a girl saves him. It's one of those stories with a strong female character, in which I love because it shows how capable girls can be.

It was the first time I had had a locker, too. It made me feel older in a way, more gathered or organized. It was cool, but I would get lost in the halls all the time(the seemingly endless halls, losing my way to the entrance and ending up home late; I'd end up having to face the embarrassment of telling my mother of it, to see her face fall into a sheepish frown and tell me that it was fine and that I'd eventually find my way around), my old school was an outdoor school, so I was used to being able to see where I was going -but in a giant indoor school, you had to just know where you were going, know every corner and door, every locker area and classroom. It took me a long time to get used to. I think having a locker was pretty great, though. I organized it so my textbooks and reading books were on the top shelf, which was at my face level, had some folders and pencils on the middle shelf, and my backpack went on the floor.

I was looking into my locker, half trying to hide my face from the high schoolers, who were chatting up a storm of loud noises; random bangs against the lockers or playful screaming, and half staring into space. I had begun to forget that I was even there when there was a yelp from outside. Thankfully, my locker was near the entrance, and surprisingly, under all the noise, I had heard it. I lifted my gaze from the trance to look for where it had come from.

Outside a student (maybe a year or two above me, it looked like) was thrown to the ground, another group of older kids -about three or four of them- followed after him and surrounded him, yelling different curses I'd never heard before. I simply stood there, the glass door of one of the many school entrances behind me, frozen in shock, not knowing what to do.

One of the students kicked him in the ribs, leading him to roll over and groan in pain. As they watched, laughing, one of them, near his head, yanked him up by his hood to make him stand(he wore a grey shirt over his olive green hoodie -I later realized that this was the style in fall in New York, considering it was a bit colder than Texas), he seemed to be choking until she let him go. The girl's hair was brown with blond highlights, and I could see her bright blue eyes from here. She had an evil expression on her face, and the way she looked at him was infuriating. Almost immediately after I had gotten time to notice her features, another guy yanked him forward by the front of his shirt and threatened him in a low voice. I can't remember what I heard; though I remember it definitely wasn't good.

After he let him go, he shoved him backwards, almost knocking him off of his feet, and the group walked off to my right.

Immediately I walked up to him, grabbing him gently by the shoulder, asking, "Hey, are you okay? Are those kids bothering you?" Back in Texas everyone was really kind to each other -it had become my safe place away from the violent concoction back at my apartment. Down there, everyone had each other's backs. Now I'm not so sure.

The boy, I noticed, seemed a lot younger up close. He might've even been in my grade, I thought. When he looked at me, I noticed dark, dark green eyes and dark brown hair with a middle part, pale skin and faint freckles. There was a small scar along his cheekbone and a few zit scars on his forehead, but other than that, his face was completely clear. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine." He seemed a bit out of breath when he spoke.

"Are you new here too?" I said after an awkward pause, since usually in movies it was the new kids who were messed with. He looked at me then nodded his head, looking down and scratching his nose.

When I looked him in the eye for the first time, I knew we would be friends. Ryan was my first friend at my new school.