The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

17...

17…

I was in Lisa’s room. But I didn’t know how I did it. Lisa wanted me to tell her, but I couldn’t. She didn’t ask me twice.

            I stood in front of her door, waiting for her to start yelling at me. I wasn’t supposed to be in her room, and I couldn’t give her answers as to how I got there. But she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t upset at all. Her enthusiasm made me more nervous than if she’d been screaming at me. I was used to being in trouble. But I wasn’t used to her smile.

            “Where’s your hoodie?” she asked me as she tossed her clothes into a pile next to her dresser.

“In m-my room,” I hesitated, pinching at my pant legs. I glanced around the room, taking in the floral wallpaper, unmade bed and articles of clothing scattered across every surface. After a moment, Lisa noticed that I was watching her. She cleared her throat and started gathering up the clothes in a bigger rush than before.

“It’s a mess in here. I throw things when I’m angry. Or nervous. Or frustrated.” She said, stooping to snatch up the pair of pink underwear at my feet. “They’re clean,” she mumbled awkwardly, her face turning red.

“You don’t get in trouble for the mess?” I asked her tentatively.

Lisa snorted and tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. “Aunt Pam doesn’t care about the mess. This is my room, not hers.”

“And…James doesn’t get angry with you?” I continued, nervously scratching my arm. I looked down and frowned. The ugly purple and black dots from the needles weren’t there anymore, nor the bruises from the collapsed veins.

Lisa’s eyes followed my gaze, shifting downward to look at my arm. I hid it behind my back instinctively, realizing that I had been rubbing at the healthy skin. I wasn’t supposed to fidget. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked softly as she came towards me. She sounded concerned. I wondered why, and peered at her curiously. “Your arm.” She pointed and I flinched. “I saw the track marks,” she worried her bottom lip between her white, even teeth.  

I didn’t know what track marks were, but I did know that Lisa shouldn’t have seen them. She wasn’t even supposed to see me. No one was supposed to see me. I should have been in my room, right where James left me. Being here with Lisa was against the rules. I was breaking the rules. I was misbehaving. I knew what would come next.

“J-James is going to get a-angry with me,” I swallowed hard, turning back toward the door. “I h-have to go back to my room,” I pulled on the knob but the door wouldn’t budge.

“It’s locked,” Lisa told me, placing her hand gingerly over mine.

I froze from the contact, taken by surprise. She was touching me. Why was she touching me?

My breath came in shallow bursts as I stared down at her hand. Her touch made my stomach tighten. My whole body surged with a tingling sensation that began where her skin rested against mine. I wanted her to keep it there, to keep touching my hand with the tips of her soft fingers.

“I didn’t want anyone to bother me while I listened to my music, so I locked the door and turned up the volume. But then you came,” she blinked up at me through her light colored lashes. “You just appeared in here. You didn’t even knock.”

I felt panic seize my throat and I frowned, anxiety etched across my face. She wanted to be alone. I was intruding. I shouldn’t be there. I knew that I shouldn’t be there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”