Betrayed

I: It all started when Hunter sat next to me in music class

It all started when Hunter sat next to me in music class. My books fell off my single binder and onto his lap, resulting in him looking at me oddly. I apologized and went on with my day. The next day, he said something.

"You holding your books this time?"

I nod, and he chooses to sit next to me. I grip onto my stack of school work and we start talking, before the bell rings of course. He says he was from New Hampshire, and his family had to give up their home because of financial problems, and that their family from New Jersey was willing to let them stay over. I told him I, too, had once lived in New Hampshire, and found out that we only lived about twenty minutes away from each other. The bell rings.

I remember that first day of middle school, where I was stuck with my friends because everything was new. And unless you had that mob of people to surround you, you were alone. You had that gut instinct that said you needed to find someone. And luckily, that someone came to me.

We used to hang out. Eventually, I would go to his house, and we would do our homework, then play a board game, or go outside and play catch. I liked him, he didn't seem to mind I was a girl, and he was a boy.

But after a while, things changed. His mother gave birth to two autistic twins, both boys. Often, we would rush to his house to take care of Billy and Peter. They would make such a fuss when we tried to help them, I remember going to the bathroom and just letting out the tears. Hunter would want to come in and make sure I was okay, but I would always tell him no, and that I was fine.

Ninth grade was the toughest, I have to say. We started drifting apart, and he stayed around guys, most of the time. Many days I would wait for him on his front steps, and would leave as he would arrive at seven o'clock. There was no one home at the time, his parents worked until eight, and mine until nine. So I would sit there and read, or maybe even do my homework if I was extremely bored out of my mind. And I remember there were those few days he would come home drunk. He would be grinning uncontrollably and he would pop a few more pills in his mouth and I would tell him to stop, but he refused. He could hear me, but it was as if he was stuck inside layers and layers of lies.