October 17th
Dear boy not in history class,
When you called me this morning, I was honestly worried. Your voice sounded so distraught that I wanted to hug you until you felt better, but I couldn't. It wasn't a very long phone call, ten minutes to be exact, but it was long enough to get the point across. The gossip floating around school was right, your mother was in the hospital and they've been running tests. How are you holding up? How is she? Do you need someone to be with you?
At the end of school I went through and got all the material you missed from today and yesterday. I almost needed another backpack to carry it all. You called me again, shortly after I made it to my car. You sounded even more troubled than before. Test results were not looking in your mom's favor. You talked to me in a hushed voice for the entire duration of my drive to the hospital. Not once did you crack a joke.
When I saw you, how could I not stay and wait with you? You were alone and couldn't see your mother. I had to distract you somehow. Distract your mind from the chaos around you and bring you back to earth for a little while. I could tell it didn't work. How could you forget the pain you've witnessed your mother be in? I guess there's a short answer for that. You can't.
The girl too sorry for words.
YOU ARE READING
To The Boy In History
Short StorySometimes projects can lead you to open up your eyes to the people around you and force you to feel things that you wouldn't have normally felt before.
