When We Part (on hold)

When We Part

I took another swig of my drink. Stale. Not that I cared. I drank whatever I could to stop feeling.

My eyes followed him. What a character. Skittery, shy, jumpy. He was completely out of place at a scene like this. Poor kid. Must've been invited as a joke. Seniors tend to be cruel to the kids in the lower grade levels, but this was just sick.

The kid didn't look like he wanted to be here. His eyes were full of hurt, like he'd seen something that was breaking him apart. Greasy black hair fell limply on his forehead. His eyes were lined black. He was dressed in a sweater three sizes too big and skinny pants. Fag pants, as my fellow classmates had so originally nicknamed them. I'd learned the hard way that it was just easier to not wear them.

He was different, right off the bat. You could just tell there was something wrong with him. His eyes were too sunken in, and glassy. He was oddly pale for the burning summer. He was too jumpy, and anxious. He was so...

Strange.

Normally I didn't find myself marveling at the ordinary, but I wasn't one to seek abnormality. I plainly existed. But looking at the kid, I knew I had found something. Be it treasure or trash, or both, I had discovered him.

I set my drink down on the counter next to me. Some pop chart-topper was booming from the stereo.

Sure, for a high school party it was alright, but I'd seen this scene a thousand times before. Quietly, I followed him.

He silently sat in an empty armchair. A little drop of sweat trickled down his face. People were dancing and, making out. It felt like my ears were going to pop, and my head was pounding. But still, I couldn't leave. If I left now, I'd be leaving behind treasure, waiting to be stolen away like money from a bank teller. I silently walked up to him. Standing above him, he looked even more meek and timid.

He stared up at me worriedly, his brow knotting in fear.

"HEY," I yelled over the blaring music, "ARE YOU HAVING FUN?"

He shook his head and turned his gaze back down to his lap.

"ME NEITHER," I continued. "LET'S GET OUT OF HERE."

He glanced back up at me, a trace of a smile gracing his lips. I took him by the hand and ran. We ran through the people dancing and making out. Through the guys doing kegstands, through the yard and down the street. I fell on a patch of grass and panted . I hadn't run in a long time.

"I'm Gerard," I gasped for air, holding out my hand.

He shook it and muttered, "Frank."

I sighed. Frank. I said the name aloud, almost mindlessly.

"So," I said, "Frank." I wanted to say it over and over. "You go to Vallendale?"

"Yes," he spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear him. "I'm a junior. Well, a senior in the fall."

"Really?" I asked. He looked too small to be a senior. The top of his head barely reached my shoulders.

"Yeah," he sighed, twisting a blade of grass in his fingers. "I know I'm small, but I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen actually. "

"Oh really? When do you turn eighteen?"

"In September, when school starts again."

I stared at him intently, letting myself fill up with him. The way he was poured into my sight. He was...Wistful. He had a longing way about him that intrigued me to no end.

We just laid there in the grass, talking till the sun rose.

"I'm already feeling the hangover," I muttered, pulling myself off the ground.