Before the Ever Green (BTEG #1) ✔️

Chapter 11

The boy from the forest.

I am staring at the boy from the forest. I am staring at his blue eyes, and perfect hair. His hair that I can't determine the color of because it is such a light shade of a dark color, but changes at different parts of his head, "Thank you," I say.

"No problem, Sara Jane was getting on my nerves anyway... Can I sit down?" He asks, gesturing towards the second chair. I nod, because I can't pull any words out of my brain. He sits, and stares for a brief few seconds, before opening his two perfect lips to speak, "Do you have a name?"

"Do you?"

He laughs a little, "Yes, I do. I have a name."

"Well, doesn't that answer your question. I have a name, too." Mom says I'm like Dad, because I always answer questions in complex terms, like if someone asks me what I want to eat, one might say what they wish to eat, but I might say food. It drives Mom nuts, but apparently intrigues the person sitting at the other end of this table.

"What might be your name?" he asks

"What might be yours?"

He laughs a little, "I asked you first,"

"And I asked you second," I am really not going to tell him my name unless he tells me his. For all I know, he is just trying to get my name, so he can spread rumors about me...rumors the popular's would believe, being as they hate me already.

He doesn't answer, he just looks me down. He stares at the hair waving around my face, which I touch unconsciously the moment he looks at it. My hair is really long, Mom wants me to cut it, but I refuse. It touches the bottom of lower back. I love my hair, even if it doesn't have a cut or style like everyone else. Mom says 'it looks like a mop', and I say it looks like me. And, it doesn't look like a mop, it has waves, and I part it to the right. I went to the barber 6 months ago, and got layers to make Mom happy. She thinks I should get them redone every 6 months, so she's taking me soon.

I don't mind the barbers, I just don't like being trapped between 4 walls in a chair with nothing to do. I annoyed the barber so much, twiddling my thumbs, he tied them together. I ended up twiddling my toes instead, and he just glared at me the whole time.

"Fine, we won't tell each other our names," he starts, taking me away from my thoughts, "But, will you at least tell me what you were doing in the forest?"

"Swinging, what about you?"

He sighs, "I could see you were swinging, but how did you know about the swing?"

"I went on an...adventure," I say, "I don't like being trapped in a house, so I spend most my time outside."

"I hear you. 4 walls and nothing to do, it can get kind of boring,"

"Is that why you were out there, to get away from the borningness of the world?"

He smiles, "Not exactly,"

"What do you mean?"

He looks up at the ceiling, as if contemplating what to say or do, "My parents live far away from here. I never really liked home, so I ran away. As far away as I could possibly get, actually. Um, I found this town, and thought it looked nice, but of course, no one would rent to me. So, I went looking and found the forest, along with a big pile of wood. I got a job at the grocery store, and soon was able to buy supplies to build the 'house' properly. I've been working in town for about a year, I think...trying to earn money to go to school."

"Oh," is all I can manage "If you ever need help with food, being your circumstances, I'm sure my mother would be willing to help,"

"Thank you, but I don't think I'll need it. I've actually been taking extra hours, and now live on $15 income."

I smile, "Good for you."

I actually felt sorry for him. He's living in a shed in the middle of honestly nowhere, and he has no family. All he really has is a $15 income, and a partial education which he is trying to fill. If we had more that 1 bedroom, I'd ask Mom if he could stay with us. He'll never last the winters here with that tiny shed. The best warmth he has is a few blankets.

I remember last winter the highest temperature was 36 degrees Fahrenheit. Mom said she'd die it was so cold. I read outside, anyway. Mom got really mad, but didn't stop me, because she didn't want to come out in the snow.

The bell finally rings, and I head to my last period. It was a literature class, which, yes, is different that language. In literature you decipher quotes. You read scripts of old plays. You read books and write summaries. It's nothing like language.

When I get home, Mom is on the couch. It's odd to see her like that. She almost looks sick. I hope she didn't catch my monthly sickness. It is so horrible, I couldn't imagine Mom having to go through it. I couldn't imagine anyone else having to go through it, "Mom?" I ask, creeping closer to her, "You awake?"

She takes a deep breathe, "You're home early." She sits up.

"I'm actually home late," I say, looking at the clock which reads 2:56 p.m. "I am going to make you soup. I think you're sick," I head to the kitchen, but she grabs my arm

"No. I am fine, just tired is all."

"Are you sure?" I ask, disbelieving.

"Positive," she says, "just a busy day at work, with Mrs. Ban gone,"

I still don't believe her, but I leave her be, and head upstairs, where I find a bird on the balcony rail, "Hi," I say, walking toward the beautiful blue bird. I outreach my pointer finger, and lightly brush it's wing, "You like that?" I ask, and it chirps. I laugh.

It flies back up to it's nest, and I head back into the 4 walls of confinement to start my homework. Math. Language. Science. History. Literature. I am just glad you can't have homework in P.E. I would have no time to read. I would die if I couldn't read, and go outside. Doing the things I like is the only thing keeping me sane. Not that I am saying I am sane, I am pretty sure I have gone insane, but I can't be quit sure.