Promise I Will

22

"What?" My eyes mirror his scrunched ones. What did he say?

"I..." He trails off like he's thinking of the right words to say.

My mouth holds the position of an 'o', and my tongue runs across my bottom front teeth. I bounce my bent leg up and down in anticipation. All sorts of things ran through my head. How could he possibly know how I feel?

"I... I was bullied almost all of middle school. Before I moved here." I keep my eyes strained on him. His blonde hair gelled up to face the sky, the sparkle in his eye telling me his words were spoken with truth.

His lips were plump and wet, while mine held their place as I struggle to form words to respond. Sounds that weren't human sounded and I breathed out in defeat and closed my eyes.

"My blonde hair wasn't appreciated. I was a few pounds heavier and was 'too smart'. People saw that as an opportunity. I was pushed around and made fun of for 4 years. Now, I don't know how long you have been their target, but I know how you feel." He licks his lips and I watch him crack his fingers in nervousness.

"You're telling the truth?" I bit the inside of my cheek.

"I've never told anybody this before... I never had help. I wish I did. I know you're scared, but..." He trails off. His voice was shaking, and his eyes were glassy. I could tell it was hard for him to voice the words that he had kept so secret for so long.

I open and close my mouth a few times, but again, my voice is caught I'm my throat and nothing comes out. I wondered just how bad it was for him? Did he go through the things I have? Did he think the things, I think?

"Wha-what happened?"

"Well. Let's take a walk?"

We started walking down the long, busy streets of central London. We found a park and started aimlessly walking through it.

"It all started in the fourth grade, I guess. Well, that's when it really started to go wrong. I was never the most social person back then. I would rather read books or study in the library than go outside and play games. Back then people who didn't like you would always find something that made you different and use it against you."

"What makes you different?" I whispered. I felt like it was almost wrong to ask the question. Like it was wrong to even hear things he was saying.

"I'm still not sure." He paused and I stood in the middle of the sidewalk. I followed suit and stayed quiet.

"Do you trust me?" He asks suddenly looking up through his dark lashes.

I nod, not responding with words.

"Come." He says, taking my arm and pulling me with him.

* * *

Dear Diary,

I don't understand. Why did he tell me? About how he was bullied. I felt honoured. But I felt like I was intruding. I love that he trusted me with such royal information. I feel like we both understand each other now. He made me promise. Promise, like I made him. That we would both trust each other, and I would let him help me, and be there for me. Of course, I countered the promise with a promise of my own. We both had to promise to be best friends forever.

I place the book softly into its drawer and close it tight. It was my hiding place. Actually, it has been just my underwear drawer, but hid it away from everyone but me. I always thought the whole diary thing seemed so weird and typical of a girl, but that was until I realized how much it had helped me. I write it all down and everything seemed better and clearer in the attic called my head.

It's almost like a best friend to me.

The floors creaked below me as I wobbled to my bed. The lights were out so my hand was set in front of me to help me guide my way. I slipped into bed, in the dark shaded bedroom. Pulling the covers over my head, I inhaled deeply and sighed.

I spoke out into the darkness, to no one in particular and said, "Night."