Card Games (short story)

1

As I stood up from my desk, I swung my bag over my shoulder, getting ready to trudge home alone to my empty house as all the other kids left school in pairs and groups.  My sigh echoed a slight crinkling noise at my feet.  I glanced down.  A piece of crumpled orange paper was trapped beneath my pink high top sneaker.

"Meet me on the school roof."

"Huh?" I mumbled to myself.  I glanced around, looking for a bully playing a trick.  Everyone else was concentrating on leaving.  I scooped up the paper and folded it as neatly as possible, tucking it into my back pocket.  I decided I would go to the roof.

As I was leaving the room, something else caught my eye.  A small box rested on the corner of the "free time table."  On top of the box was another orange paper.  I shuffled over and picked up the box.  The paper said,  "Take these."  It was stuck to a pack of ordinary playing cards.

Oh!  I tucked the note and cards into my backpack pocket as well.  I loved cards and card games.  The rare occasions I could convince a classmate to play "Crazy 8's," "Blackjack," or "President" with me were big treats—times when I felt like I was "fitting in," at least for the few minutes a round took to play.

My step was lighter as I made my way to the roof.  When I opened the door, I saw a table in the center of the flat expanse.  I approached it and sat down, sliding my plaid backpack strap off and letting the bag fall with a thud.

I heard a soft step behind me and whipped my head around to see...

A small boy.

He stood barefoot on the rough roof surface.  His skin was white, almost transparent.  His eyes were pink and his hair fell in a snow white fringe across his high forehead. His lips were thin and pale but drawn up into a shy smile.

My first thought was, "Why is there an albino boy on my school's roof?"  My second was, "I wonder if he knows "Nervous Breakdown?"

I took a step towards him.  His smile broadened, and he said, "You really came!  Wanna play cards?"

I was bored.  I was lonely.  He seemed lonely too.  He seemed...maybe even more desperate for a friend than I was.

I nodded slowly, my smile matching his as I pulled the cards from my backpack.  He grabbed them from my hand and began to shuffle expertly.  We began playing. We played every game I knew.  He won every time.

When I'd climbed to the roof, the sun was high at 3:00.  It was sinking now, the cards casting shadows on the table surface.  I glanced at my watch.  It was 6:00.  I realized we'd been playing for three solid hours, and I didn't even know his name.

"Hey," I touched his hand softly, where it rested next to the dealer's pile.  "What's your name?  You never told me."

"Name?  What's that?" he blinked his odd pink eyes.  "What's a name?  What's my name?"

"Yes, that's what I asked, what's your name?"  At the word name, he jerked his hand away from under mine.  He looked at me.  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, feeling awkward.

When I opened them, I was sitting cross-legged on the roof, the rough tarpaper surface scraping my ankles where they touched.  There was no table.  The boy was gone.

In front of me was a spread of cards, their faces dim in the fading light, laid out in a pattern of Solitaire.