I stare back at him.
The boy from the street.
"Did you follow me here?" I say cautiously. He shakes his head no. "What are you doing here?" I hesitantly ask.
He says something, but he's so quiet that I can't hear him. I inch closer to him and sit down on the rock right next to him.
"What did you say?" I ask him kindly.
"I come here all the time." He replies, voice as sweet and as smooth as honey. "It calms me down."
His gaze locks onto mine, then I watch as his eyes trail down my whole body. Starting at the top of my head, his eyes make a trek down my nose, neck, chest, torso, thighs, shins, and stop at my toes.
I decide to follow his lead, but I start at his toes and work my way up to his light brown hair.
His eyes catch mine and we sit there staring for what seems like forever.
He finally breaks the silence and says, "What's wrong?" Obviously gesturing to the streaks of black mascara striping my face.
"My parents... They... They're gone...dead." I finally manage to say the words aloud. "And my best friend is being a jerk just to impress some guy." I add. It's difficult, but it feels good to let it all out.
"Oh..." He pauses. Another drawn out silence follows.
"Sorry if I seem a little bit creepy to you. It's just... There's something about you..."
I form my face into a puzzled expression. "What... What do you mean?"
"I don't know... I just.... See I've been having a lot of dreams lately and... And... Uhhhh..." He pauses for a while before saying something more. "You are uhm... In my dreams..."
Confusion floods through me. Someone dreaming about me? I've never even met this person before, how could he know what I even look like?
He slowly grabs his notebook and holds it out to me. The blood racing through my veins feels hot- why? Is it possible that I actually... Like this kid?
I take the book and flip through the pages. This isn't just an ordinary notebook, every page is filled with wondrous drawings and sketches, gray streaks across the lined paper. I flip through them, and stop immediately when I see myself. Myself? That can't be right. I look closer. Yes, it is me. Long, brown hair, hazel colored eyes that are unusually large, and tall. Every single aspect that I contain is mapped out before me. I force a smile.
"Did you draw this of... Me?" I ask the boy.
He nods, a simple yet shy way of saying yes.
"Why did you draw me...?" I ask, perplexed on why someone would even care about me. After all, I did just lose all of the people I ever cared about. What more is left of me besides a lifeless body looking for a purpose?
"I drew you because I think you're beautiful." He says slowly.
I try to process all of this. Me? Beautiful? It all didn't seem to match up. But, there I was, plastered on the page in graphite and crayon, in this boys' eyes as "beautiful."
I smile again. It feels good to smile. I embrace the warmness it brings me, savoring the happiness while it lasts.
"I guess I better get going..." The boy says. I hand the notebook back to him and he shakes his head. "Keep it. It's yours now." I grin again.
"See you 'round." He says.
"But wait..." I say. "How will I see you again? I barely even know you. I don't even know your name..."
"You'll find me, don't worry." He smirks, and with that he is on his way.
I study the way he walks. Slowly yet strongly, feet rolling from his heels to his toes.
I sit there for a while, flipping through pages of the sketch book. I'm so infatuated with the drawings that I barely notice my step-brother behind me.
"Finally," he huffs between heavy breaths. "I found you." His oily blonde hair sweeps in front of his face. His short stature makes him look like a small child.
"Lets go home."
Home. What even is home anymore? No mother to greet you with her warm embrace, no father to joke around with.
I feel tears trying to escape again, and I fight to hold them back.
