The Marked

New Friends And New Beginnings

Standing in my room while I waited for 6:00 to roll around, I glanced at my phone once again. 17:50. Ten more minutes. I wasn't sure why I liked having military time on my phone so much, but I think it had something to do with how it's not used much. I liked being unique in small ways.

Deciding to go talk with my parents instead of standing in my room silently freaking out, I walked downstairs to find them both busy in the kitchen. Dad was making brownies to be put in the oven while we ate the fettuccine alfredo my mom was just finishing up. She had thrown in some chopped up fajita chicken meat, and my mouth was watering at the thought of all this good food.

Seeing me enter the kitchen, my dad smiled at me. "Hey James, do you need something?" I shook my head no, and he shrugged his shoulders, which meant "Okay."

"Hey dad, I'm sorry about just springing the news on you earlier that I had invited some other kids to come over. I really should have waited until another day when you both could know about it beforehand." My dad stopped stirring the brownie mix in the large bowl in front of him, and my mother turned around from the sink where she had been washing her hands after finishing the fettuccine alfredo.

"Listen James, while it was a bit surprising to hear that you had invited some more people to the party tonight, we don't mind. We've been worried that you haven't seemed too interested in talking with people, or even being around them since that incident two years ago." This is how my dad talked with me, and I really appreciated it. There were no secrets between us. There was absolute trust in one another that we would be honest.

"I know, but I still feel bad about it. I texted you right after they all agreed to check with their parents, but now I'm kinda having second thoughts about it all. I mean, I don't even really know these kids, and now I'm inviting them to come to my house for a party?"

My parents shared a look, and then my mother sighed before speaking. "James, I know it's hard to trust people after the abuse you went through. What those children did to you was heartless and cruel, but not everyone is like that. Besides, from what you've told us about those kids, they sound like really nice people."

My dad nodded in agreement, and stepped forward to rest a hand on my shoulder. "It's been two years, James. You've changed a lot since then, but we can still see how much that bullying affects you to this day. If you ever want to truly heal, you have to reach out to others again. These kids sound like the perfect opportunity for you to make some new friends."

I smiled and said "Thanks guys, I appreciate it. I'll try to not freak out so much." They both smiled at me, and then my dad went back to his brownie mix, and my mom went to go set the table. I left the kitchen to go sit down on the couch in our living room, staring at the black screen of the TV. I could turn it on and try to watch something, but I could already feel those memories that I had locked away clawing at my brain.

It had been two years ago, and we were all enjoying a class party to celebrate the end of our seventh grade year. Ryan had been sick that day, and I sometimes wonder if things would have gone differently had he been there to protect me. But he hadn't been, and so I hadn't been protected.

The teacher had bought some cookies for us to eat, and one of the student's parent had brought a pitcher of lemonade. I had sat at my desk, excited to finally be done with the year. Talking and laughing with a kid across from me as we played Monopoly, I was unaware that the teacher had left the room to go get some paper towels from the janitor's room.

"Hey James, what are you doing?" I had turned to see who was talking to me, although I had already known. It had been Jerome, a big kid with curly dirt brown hair, and equally dirty brown eyes. His lips had been twisted into a sneer, and I felt the slight fear that came with being faced by someone you knew could beat you up. I had been chubby back then, and a few inches shorter. Jerome had towered over me, standing about five feet six.