a long way from home ; g.d.

s i x

Grayson and I continued heading down the sidewalk, with no particular destination. We didn't talk much at first, which was okay. It somehow wasn't awkward, which you'd expect it to be.

Maybe if was a little, mostly because Ethan had been doing most of the talking, so we didn't really have to. I wondered if people passing us thought we were a couple. I wonder if people think we look cute regardless. I know our height difference is cute. What am I doing?

"You're being strangely quiet," he said after a few minutes.
I didn't know how to respond. A joke? A giggle?
"Yeah, I guess I just like Ethan more than you."
A joke it is.

Thank God he noticed my tone, and laughed. "Well ouch." I laughed too. I'm sure of one thing though. Stranger or not a stranger, I've laughed more in these past couple of hours than I have this past week. Planning, traveling, worrying. I guess I had just forgotten to relax every now and then.

"Just kidding. You're just kind of intimidating."
He scoffed. "Intimidating? Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean you're, what, 6 feet tall? Muscles for the gods? Deep voice?"

"What, do you think if you say the wrong thing I'll drop kick you? I wouldn't, but I could. You're like half of me."

We both laughed again. His laugh was contagious. If it didn't make me laugh, then it made me smile like a total idiot.

"Well, I promise I'm not that mean. You like pizza?" He asked, suddenly coming to a stop. He pointed up at a sign, which read "Mario's New-York Style Pizza."

I hit him with my elbow and walked towards the door. "What kind of question was that? Of course I like pizza."

He smiled and held open the door for me as we walked in.
The waitor sat us at a window seat, with dim lighting and a dark wooden table. We ordered our drinks and a large half pineapple, half pepperoni pizza. After taking a big drink of his Pepsi, he began talking again. "So, Chavelle, why New York?"

I took a sip of my water and cleared my throat. "I already told you. Mini-vacation."

He shook his head and leaned back in his seat. His face took a turn for the serious and he played with the material on the table. "It's not good to lie to people you're trying to make friends with, you know."

I froze for a second. "What makes you think I'm lying, smartass?"

He chuckled and shrugged his wide shoulders. "Not that I'm trying to analyze you or make myself look like, well, a smartass, but you just seemed off when I asked you about it in Forever 21. I'm no psychology expert or anything but your body language was just kind of off and you looked like you were basically begging your mind to come up with an answer. If I'm wrong, just tell me. Or don't, save me some embarrassment."

I licked my bottom lip before a smile began to grow on my face. "You got me, man. You're good. Damn."

I leaned forward, both elbows on the table, back no longer resting against the back of my chair. I held my glass with both hands and felt little sweat droplets from the coldness of it fall onto my hands. He copied me. "See? Maybe I am a psychology expert."

I smiled again. He took a sip of his drink. "So why are you here, if you don't mind me asking."

I nervously tapped my foot under the table and took a drink of my water. "I ran away from home."

He looked like he had no idea how to respond. He tapped the table with his pointer finger and looked at me questionably. "You ran away?"

And so I told him everything. Everything about my parents, my school, how miserable I was, the whole story. I could tell he was listening; his eyes never left mine once, even when mine did. I almost couldn't look him in the eye while talking about this because of how nervous I was. It was so strange saying out loud, because I never thought I'd do it. Run away, I mean. Every teen considers it at least once or twice, but very few actually do it, I've noticed.

He stayed quiet for a little too long, and I instantly regretted telling him. He probably thinks I'm crazy. Or stupid. Or just some spoiled, snobby teen girl who just simply didn't get along with her parents and decided to impulsively leave one day.

If I did what I did on impulse, I would've been gone months ago. This idea had been building up in my head for forever. I considered where I'd go, if I'd ask someone to go with me, how I'd get the money, if I could actually do it...

"I'm so sorry, Elle," he said suddenly. I looked up at him instantly, and completely forgot I wasn't even looking at him. I'd completely zoned out and was staring at my hands wrapped around my glass.

"I can't even imagine what that must've been like. Having to live every day the exact same, living with people like that. I'm glad you left. I know it had to have been terrifying for you, but I think you're really brave. Not many people have the guts to leave like that."

He called me Elle. Despite how annoyingly extra my name is, no one has ever called me that. No one is ever allowed to call me Elle. It's reserved for him only.

"Elle," I said softly. "No one has ever called me that."

"Is that okay?" He asked just as quietly as me.

I guess I didn't even feel the tears in my eyes. He just said everything I needed my parents to say. Maybe if they had I wouldn't have left. I think that you're really brave. Something as easy as that.

I nodded, looking him directly in the eyes and blinking my tears away, hoping he didn't notice.