Lucky Me

James (1)

I remember that night after practice was finally over. Everyone went home except me and Elijah. We stood there in silence, staring at the brown benched that looked like they were slowly about to break down next time someone used them.
             "Do you have a ride home?" He finally broke the silence, looking at the time and going through the things in his locker one more time.
             "I walk, it shouldn't be too far anyway." I replied, knowing deep down it was a lie.
He closed the locker quietly and turned to face me. I couldn't look at him, I just couldn't think about that sleep over. When I freaked out, kissed him, and ran to my room to cry about it later. I started to shake, clenching my arm. Panic attack. My heart started to race and sweat began to form on the palms of my hands. I closed my eyes only to open them to his face and his arms wrapped around me.
"I have those too. You don't need to get one when I'm here. Come on I can take you home." He insisted, tugging on my arm.
Eli....
It was starting to rain, cars drove down the road safely, some like crazy people. Eli opened his umbrella and gave it to me, grabbing his hat and putting it on his head.

"You need it more than I do. How come you don't bring extra clothes for after practice?" He started to walk, me avoiding the puddles and obvious answers that proved that I was a run away living in an old car in a park.

"I'm a lazy person, Elijah. You should know that you idiot," I rolled my eyes, he laughed.
"I never knew your voice can go that high, it never goes deep,"

After a few long minutes went by, we made it back to a small apartment complex. 4 guys were outside smoking and getting drunk.
"Paul! You shouldn't be drinking!" Elijah ran up to him and glanced at the bottle.
The man who he claimed as Paul, almost fell over but someone helped him stand up straight.

"Man Elijah, it's hard growing up on the streets nigga! Have of these hoes don't got any education, kids shooting each other everyday. Think about your Mo--"

Elijah growled and grabbed his neck, "Do NOT bring that up Paul. Not again."

Paul squirmed and pleaded for him to stop. I just watched in terror. Was this fear?
Elijah soon released him and went upstairs, I followed him slowly just in case he was still a bit aggressive. But he seemed fine. So I decided to say something to him.

"So um, how long have you been living here?"

"Not too long, a couple of months. Never actually did much to the house though." He shrugged and stood in front of an apartment door.

"Now don't get surprised, it's not much. And I usually don't get visitors here that often so make yourself at home."
As soon as he opened the door, a strong smell of cinnamon and berries filled my lungs. He closed the door behind me and walked down to his living room, which had a nicely made air bed, a blue carpet, and a tv on the floor. It was surprisingly clean, knowing that Elijah was a mess at school.
"So this is my place. There's plenty of food in the fridge. I have to start cooking soon though." He had a cheesy smile on his face before jumping on his bed.

"Where's everyone else? You have an extra bed in the other room," I pointed.

     He grew silent, I said something I wasn't suppose to say. Memories flew back into my head; my father, the strip club, the men, everything pouring into my head. I felt a tear go down my cheek but I quickly wiped it away.
      "My sister is in a coma," he whispered, looking at something in his hand. "We were at the beach a year ago, my mom got her something that she really wanted. When we were coming home, a car swerved and hit her side. Me and my mom made it out fine other than a couple bruises and cuts. That's the last thing I remember. All I know is that my mom is trying to work to pay the hospital bills for her. So if she's near where I'm at, she'll usually stay the night smelling like strong alcohol. That's why I started to play basketball. Yes I love the game, but at the same time I'm helping with my sisters recovery."
       I stood there, shocked. All those fights he got into, he was defending himself, and his sisters name. Should I tell him about me? How we almost share similar stories? I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. It was only silence.

   "Well you can sleep in there. Let me give you some of my clothes." He insisted, getting up and going to his closet.

      After that, he went back to being Elijah. The goofball that we all know and love dearly. The one that I love. The person who took me in when nobody did. I remember laying in bed, lighting crashing right above us. Something I was terrified about. I pulled the blankets over my head and whimpered.
"Guess I'm sleeping in here." A sleepy Elijah walked in and crawled onto the bed, his hair messy and his eyes light blue.
    I was going to say no but he already fell asleep, arms wrapped around me. I sighed and curled up, closing my eyes.
Thank you, Elijah.