INDIGO

PART ONE

My family was out downtown one chilly winter night. We were walking back to our car on the busy streets of Wikker, when I stumbled into one person after another and ended up separated from my parents. Despite only being of age 8, I didn't panic, and as a result of being age 8, I was extremely adventurous. I turned one corner, and then the next, peeking into large shop windows and stopping to pet strays, before arriving in front of a dark alley that stunk of garbage. It was a classic feeling of rebellion, the one that drove me straight into the darkness, only navigable by the blue lights coming from the street which it penetrated.

I held my nose and stepped slowly into the mystery. I came to a halt at the sound of a skimper. I retreated backwards slightly, but, again, my curiosity got the better of me and I went towards the sound. My eyes began to adjust to the darkness and I realized that the being which had backed itself into a dumpster wasn't a possum or raccoon, but a boy who looked my age. But he didn't look like me. His hair was long, tangled, and looked super dirty. All he had on were shorts, despite it being about 40° F. He looked wounded and skinny, it was almost scarier than seeing a possum.

"Are you alright?" I called out to him, but he just stared with a terrified look in his eyes. I began to walk closer, repelling him further into the corner between the dumpster and the wall. He was shivering, which I'm sure was the effect of both the temperature and the fear. Why was he so afraid of me? I kept creeping closer, and it felt like those times when I would approach scared little stray dogs or cats. I crouched down lower, and started speaking with a high pitched voice. "It's okay, It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," it was just like speaking to a dog.

He stared at me with caution but he didn't try to run away. I guess my automatic response was to treat him the only way I knew how to approach strays, but that ended up turning in my favor. Eventually I got close enough to see the bags under his eyes and the paleness of his skin. He looked sick. I thought of what I could do to help, but the only thing I could do was take off my hoodie and offer it to him. It was my favorite hoodie, being a plain indigo color and two sizes too big. I held it out for a second, until he hesitantly reached and took it. He put it on, but not correctly, instead using it as if it were a blanket rather than a piece of clothing.

I laughed and tried to help him, causing him to jump right back against the dumpster away from me. I attempted it again, this time going slowly and repeating the "it's okay, I won't hurt you." After what felt like forever, I managed to get it on him trying my best to keep a distance and touch him the least possible. His face looked so relieved, but with that even closer focus on his features, I saw how hungry he looked. His cheeks were indenting and his lips were almost a purple, his nose a red shade, all coated with grime. Then I remembered my family and realized they had probably been looking for me for the past thirty minutes I had been wondering.

"Oh jeez, goodbye!!! Please stay safe! Uhm... What's your name?" I said as I started to walk away, he just stared back at me with an indifferent expression. "Uh, well... then... Indigo! How about I call you Indigo like the hoodie?" Again, there was no response. It was then I realized that he was more like a dog than I thought. He probably couldn't understand what I was saying. I frowned at this thought and walked out into the bustling city. I found my way to the car, where my mom stood on the phone and frantically looked around, my dad nowhere to be seen. I tugged her sweater and she looked down with a worried expression, in my head I immediately compared it to the expression of Indigo.

"Oh my god!!! Easton, baby, you're okay! Oh my god!" She exclaimed, pulling me up into her arms as if she wouldn't let go for the next month. I was afraid I'd get in trouble, but all she did was praise me for remembering the location of the car and tell me she'd never let me out of her sight again. I felt so loved and cared for, which would have been a good thing if it didn't make me feel guilty that Indigo probably didn't have that. He probably got lost from his parents too. But if so, he never found them again.