Camp for the Emotionally (Un)Stable || Lams

Chapter Twenty-Eight: What A Hero

Laurens|First Person

August eleventh could not have come any sooner. Even as I lie down and glance at the digital clock on my nightstand the hours seem to drag on. It's one in the morning, technically Alexander's birthday. Technically the day he's supposed to come home with me. 

Still, I can't force my eyes closed to see if it'll make the night go any faster. I'm not picking him up until probably noon tomorrow anyway. I still have a long wait. 

I continue my tossing and turning the rest of the night it seems. Minute after minute crawls by, leaving me with far too much free time to analyze every last memory I have that revolves around a certain Alexander Hamilton. I freak myself out over every little gesture since I showed up at that fence behind the gloomy group home. I pick apart every touch, every glance, every kiss. I start to wonder how much he really loves me back. I have a feeling we're not as close as we were before, we close in a different way now. But, who's to say if that's an improvement or not. 

We've both changed too much to be what we were last year at camp. I've come to terms with my own mental health, and it looks like Alex's has been pushed to the brink after all the tossing around they did with him. 

I'd never imagine letting things end the way they did last summer again. This time I want to do it right. I want to have a real relationship with him, I want to have a home together, I want to see what he looks like when he wakes up every morning. I don't think I'm going to let him out of my sight for a long while after I pick him up. 

I'm already awake and staring blankly at the ugly wallpaper of my cheap hotel room when my phone rings. It's shoved under my pillow, plugged still into the wall. That doesn't stop me from remaining frozen for a couple seconds after I hear it though, I wait until I'm sure I really feel like answering it. Even then I pause to make sure it's someone I want to talk to. 

Call From: Alexander

My breath catches, and my thumb is quick to slide the answer button. This could only be bad. 

"Alex? Why're you up right now? What's going on?" I bring my fingers up to my teeth and begin to gnaw on my nail nervously. There's some static on the other line before his voice comes through, flat and dead-sounding. 

"Can you come pick me up early? Sorry for waking you up." 

I frown. Something is really wrong. "I was already awake, don't worry. Are you going to be ok while I drive over or do you want me to stay on the phone?" 

He clears his throat before talking. "I'll be ok. James is here." There's a bit more life in it this time.

A jolt of angry jealousy rushes through me then. Whoever this James kid is, he's a little too close to my Alex for comfort right now. I force back my emotions for the time being, careful to keep my voice even as I respond. "Ok, I'll see you soon. I love you." 

"Love you too." 

I try not to scowl too harshly as I pocket my phone and throw the last of my things into my duffel bag. I decide to just leave my key on the side table just inside the door. I don't think they'll mind me skipping check out too much. I'm still careful to avoid the lobby as I sneak out into the parking lot, tossing my duffel into the bed of my truck and swinging myself into the driver's seat in record time. I'm sure I left a few things in the room, but I'm not in the mood for a final walk through. 

I just turn the engine and pull onto the street at a probably dangerous speed. I'm not bothered by it now. I'm anxious about getting to Alex. The group home is really only fifteen minutes away, but it feels like thirty even at my hurried speed. Every light takes too long, every other car going way too slow. I fight hard not to road rage and break any laws. 

The lights are on in the front room of the house. I pull out my phone to call Alex back instead of knocking. God only knows what's going on inside there. 

"Hey, I'm out front." 

"Ok. Wait there, James and I will be out in a second." 

"Ok." 

The line goes dead once more and the seconds drag on as I stare intently on the yellow-lit front windows. One of them flickers before going completely black. I suck in a breath, giving it another minute before I get out to check on the situation. 

I get about thirty seconds into my minute before another light goes out and I swing open the door to my truck again. I jog halfway across the lawn when I hear the sound of what I think is a bottle shattering. I jump, frozen in fear for only a moment before I start toward the front stoop once again. The light next to the door clicks on again, the door creaking open slowly a second later. I reach for the thing, only to have it slam against the house as a small, dark-skinned boy pushes through it. He pulls someone along behind him, someone who stumbles and wipes his mouth as he stumbles down the concrete step. 

"Alex?" I ask the stumbling boy. He staggers for a second, his loose-fitting hoodie slipping off his shoulder as he looks up at me. 

"Who are you?" The dark-skinned boy steps between me and the maybe-Alex. He sticks his arm back at the injured boy who only pushes it down and takes a step toward me. 

"It's John," he answers for me, leaning into the light. His brown eyes shine sadly at me as I reach for him. He latches onto my waist, throwing his whole body into mine, which doesn't provide much force. He looks like he's lost twenty pounds since I last saw him two weeks ago. I throw my arms around Alexander's back, holding him upright while I squint at the other boy. 

"Are you James?" 

"Yeah." He fiddles uncomfortably as I look him over. He couldn't be older than fifteen. Maybe he isn't trying to get with Alex...

"Take care," I nod to him pull Alex around and half-dragging him over to the passenger's side of the truck. I hoist him sideways into the seat and climb up on the metal step on the outside of the cab to pull his seatbelt over him. He lolls his head over to me tiredly. Now that I can see him in the light I can see he was wiping a busted lip earlier. There's a red mark on his temple, and a cut on his cheek, but nothing too drastic. I brush my finger over the cut, making sure he isn't bleeding anymore. He blinks up at me, pouting a little. 

"My head hurts," he yawns. 

"I know, baby. I'll get some advil in a second." 

He nods, lying back his seat and closing his eyes. I press my lips together. I want an explanation, but now doesn't seem like such a good time, so I keep my mouth shut while I start up the truck again. I make him dry swallow two advil before waiting until he falls asleep to text Angelica, telling her we'll be a little early coming over this morning. 

Guess who finally finished this long ass story?!

Oh yeah, I'm celebrating real hard. Two more parts, then the epilogue- which I'm still a bit on the fence about. But it's done, so yay for that. 

Question: Stance on when to listen to Christmas music? I personally think that Thanksgiving is just a break between the two real holidays.

Or, if you don't celebrate any of this shit, what're you up to this December? 
<3