Stephen and Sharpies ~ Watty Awards 2012

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

-Alec

    Maize, such a beautiful color to describe your voice. Whenever I see the color I think of the sunrise. The breathtaking moment as the sun rises over the horizon. As the sky lights up in a bright yellow color, full of orange and blue. As the sun pushes through the clouds to light up the world. Such a blinding moment as the horizon and sky blends together. Nothing is seen for a split moment, but the sun shining.

    When you talk to me, your voice sounds like the rising sun. Fresh, breathtaking, and refreshing. Each time you talk, it’s like the first time I heard your voice. It’s new and exciting. Your voice changes with your mood. When you’re angry your voice sounds like dead leaves. If you’re happy, your voice sounds like a circus. It sounds cheery and reminds me of being a child, a juvenile mind. Sadness mirrors your broke down tractor voice. So quiet and slow, anger edges it, but still hanging below the surface. My favorite though is when you talk to me and stare me right in the eyes.

    That’s when your voice becomes loving and thoughtful, it sounds like the ocean waves on a cool morning. Even when your voice shows distress and it sounds like an angry ocean storm, it always makes me smile.

    I still remember the first thing you ever said to me. Well the first thing that ever mattered to me. It was the same day I got beat up. Actually it was ten minutes afterwards. Let’s start from the beginning.

    This story is where it all began. I know what she is going to say and I am scared to read on. I don’t want to relive it all over again. I don’t want to read that she hated me.

    I was standing outside waiting for the rain to stop so I could walk home. Two girls and two boys walked up to me and gave me a look. I looked away, adverting my eyes towards the street. They shifted their group around me, I was surrounded. I stared into the eyes of one of the girls. She glared at me.

    “Where did you get that jacket, the dump?” The girl didn’t wait for my answer she just nodded to the rest.

     A moment later four fists punched me. Then they kicked me, knocking me down on the ground. I curled up into a fetal position and closed my eyes. They kept kicking and punching me. They stopped, I opened my eyes to see if they were gone. Between all their shoes and legs, I saw you through my blurred vision. You had this sad, sullen face, the look of shame painted across your face. Next it all disappeared, they kicked me in the head and I blacked out.

    I wanted to help, but we all know that would have been a mistake. Remembering back to that day I can hear my thoughts replay in my mind. If only I was popular, I could have kept her safe… I wasn’t though, I was a nerd and outcast just like Stephen. I would have made the whole situation worse.

    Ten minutes later, when I came to, you were standing over me. I cringed, as I curled up into a ball again.

    You bent down, “You can trust me. I promise not to hurt you. Are you okay?”

    I nod my head.

    “Here, let me help you up.” You stuck at your hand and I took it. You pull me up gently and help me over to a bench.

    “Thank you,” my voice is raspy with pain.

    “Are you hurt?”

    “I think-a rib-is broken,” I take shallow breaths in between parts of my sentence. I feel my cheek beginning to get wet by my tears.

    “What’s your house number? I can call someone for you.”

    “I’m fine, I’ll just walk home. Thanks.” I try evening out my voice with little success.

    “You’re hurt, you need to go to a hospital.” You looked sincerely worried.

    “I’ll be fine, thanks for your help.” I stood up took a few steps and fell again.

    You helped me up again and led me back to the bench. You took out your cell phone and dialed a number. Quietly you talked to someone, your voice swift and worried. You stole glances at me ever few seconds.

    “Who’d you call?” I asked after you hung up.

    “My mom, she’s on her way.”

    “She can’t help me.”

    “She can, and she will.”

    Your mom showed up about ten minutes later. She got out of the car and came over to where you and I  were. “What happened?” Her face screwed into a mix of emotions.

    “She got beat up, Ma. She says she might have broken ribs, but she wants to go home.”

    “Where do you live?”

    “Same street as you live on,” I cringed with each word. “I can get there on my own.”

    “No, you’re going to the hospital. Can you walk?” I shake my head. “Okay, I am going to pick you up gently. If it hurts I am really sorry.”

    “Okay.”

    She picked me up and carried me to the car. She had me lie down in the back seat while you sat in the front. The car smelt strange, like coconuts and stale McDonald’s french fries. She drove me to the hospital and sat with me in the waiting room. She sat with me as the doctor examined me. He told me that I had to set the ribs in place and then wrap my chest to keep everything in place. It hurt so bad. I started crying and your mom took my hand and tried comforting me.

    Afterwards she took me home. She told me not to worry about the hospital bills, she told them to bill her, she was going to take care of. She told me to get a note to get out of P.E. and told me to be careful. I thanked her and then I went inside my house. I never saw her again. I saw you though.

     I find it saddening that the first time I heard your voice, I was in so much pain. I felt like dying. I loved your voice still, at the same time I hated you. I couldn’t believe you just stood and watched. You didn’t help at that moment, but then you saved my life. How could you be such a jerk one moment and literally five minutes later you were an angel; my guardian.

    When you said that I could trust you, I believed you. I always have. There has always been a hope, a spark of knowing in my body. I think you have always known that I liked you. I also think you know that I mean more to you than just being a girl you sit with. Sadly, you know what I am saying, but you wont ever let yourself believe it. You might not know it yet, you will know by the end of the letters. I know that you will find out the secret of our friendship; there are always two sides to a story and that’s what I am giving you.

    The other side.

    Your voice is the color of maize, delicate like your touch, yellow like the sun, and soft like the touch of your hand. Maize is another word of corn, I find that strange. Why is such a pretty color named after a vegetable? The wonders of the world.

    I hope you're going to continue reading, because I have a great story to tell you…later.

-Stephen