Washout

The intimacy of pain

There was a boy, standing at the end of the hallway, by the water bubbler. His hands were on his hips, his head tilted back, his body language bore confidence.
He was 15, a sophomore. Running back on the winning football team, charming, good looking, often surrounded by girls. The proud example of what any kid desired to be in high school.

At the other end of the hall stood a girl, tentatively waiting outside the geometry classroom. Her eyes were red rimmed, her hair slightly tussled. She gripped her elbows with her hands, and was jumbled by her classmates as they passed, as if she were invisible. A tennis ball between 2 children in a game of monkey in the middle. There was no frantic glancing or embarrassment from her as she was rudely shoved around, but rather a look of defeat, she allowed herself to be pushed with little protest. It was as if she didn't know where she was, didn't care.
Like the boy, the girl was also 15, and in sophomore year. She didn't play sports however, in fact she was involved in no school activities other than her assigned classes, in which she quietly excelled. She wasn't unattractive, by some standards she may even have once been considered pretty, but her eyes and face were so washed out, no one seemed to notice.

These two children were as opposite as could be, not even their peers could guess a similarity between them. But they shared an important secret.

That day, which was the 15th of May, a Tuesday, as the two children walked robotically through their own separate worlds, worlds which would never have crossed paths, the unexpected happened.
The boy looked up from where he was splashing water with his friends, and his eyes met the girl's. immediately, his expression changed.
With no obvious motive whatsoever, the boy swung his backpack over his shoulder, and left his baffled friends as he rushed down the hall, toward the geometry room. It was a practiced rush, as though he had perhaps forgotten his books behind and was merely running back to get them in the few minutes remaining between classes.
Just before he would have disappeared into the room, however, his hand slipped out, closed over the arm of the girl, gently tugged her around the corner. It was a move so quick, so calculated, no one would have suspected anything.
The girl, of course, had been watching him since he left his friends at the drinking fountain, and was not surprised when he pulled her aside.
Hey. The boy said gently, tilting her head up so their eyes met.
She said nothing, only stared back, her eyes those of someone who has been holding back tears for a very long time.
Are you okay? He asked, his hands falling from her face to cup her elbows. It was sincere concern in his voice, and the tender way in which he touched her came close to raising a sob in her throat.
    Same as always. She said instead, choking back her tears for what seemed like the millionth time.
The boy sighed, ran a hand through his hair.
    That's what worries me. He said quietly.
    Don't be worried about me. She whispered, taking his cue to drop her voice.
The hallways were clearing out, the late bell was going to ring soon and he knew they'd both be in trouble if they were late for class. Not in trouble with any real authority, but in trouble with their peers. It had happened before, and too many more times would look suspicious. It was just as dangerous for her to be seen with him as it was for him to be seen with her, this he knew. She didn't have the luxury of taking this into account, so he had to do it for both of them.
     Do you wanna come over tonight? He asked nervously, biting his lip.
She tilted her head to the side. It's Tuesday. She reminded him, in case he had forgotten what Tuesday meant.
He shrugged. My mom's working late.
She nodded, mainly to take up time as she thought.
Okay. She whispered finally, her voice barely audible.
The boy breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. He repeated. As he did, the late bell rang.
    I have to go. He said, internally cursing the bell with every profanity he knew. He leaned in carefully and kissed her forehead, resting his lips against her skin for just a moment, but a moment was enough.
They both breathed in at the contact, as if they'd been holding their breaths since the last time they'd touched, and now the air was sweet and clean.
Hang on, baby girl. He whispered. I'll see you after school.
He knew it would be too risky to talk to her again that day, they were already going to be late. this brief conversation would have to last them both another 4 hours.
Squeezing her hand one last time, the boy dropped it and jogged away, hurrying before he was missed at his next class.
The girl watched him leave, with every step he took her skin felt more exposed, as if the reminisce of him was stretched the farther away he got.
Then he turned the corner, and two worlds separated again.