Little Things

Hooligans.

I’m sitting cross legged, my back resting against the head board of my bed, the moist air envelopes my lungs. I inspect my chipped nailpolish out of boredom and finally decide to call Cole.

 “Cole.” For some reason I always say his name rather than saying ‘hey’, maybe I just like the way his name sounds when it effortlessly rolls off my tongue and causes my stomach to do all sorts of flips and twists.

 “Hey.” He huskily replies, it's 4:30 in the morning, maybe that has something to do with the way he sounds.

 “Take me somewhere.”

 “Where?” He sounds quite exited now, his voice had perked up and I can practically see him grinning from ear to ear. It might be because he thinks he’s finally convinced me to be bold, but in all honesty I just can’t sleep, my heads spinning and the only thing on my mind is Cole. So I did the logical thing and called him.

 “Anywhere but here.” I tell him truthfully. I was tired, not just cause it was 4:30am, but because soon I’ll be gone and out of his life. I want him to remember me in the best way possible, not as some girl who got cancer and cried her way through it, I want to be the girl who fought her way through it.

 “I’ll be there in 20.” He hangs up before I even get a chance to say goodbye.

 “Someone’s excited.” I mumble to myself before getting up and throwing on an oversized jumper and leggings. I undo my ponytail, letting my hair fall to its full length and cascade down my back. I go back to sitting on my bed and anxiously wait for my phone to ring.

 My ringtone emanates throughout my silent room.“Hello?” I answer.

 “I’m here.” Cole replies and once again hangs up before I get a chance to reply. I quickly grab my phone and keys, then I scribble a note for my mom telling her I’m with Cole. I hastily stick the note on the door before walking out and shutting it behind me.

 We begin heading towards familiar neighborhoods, past Becca’s house, past Justin’s house, past McKinley high, and now we were on the west end of the city. It was quaint neighborhoods, the houses held character, unlike the cookie-cutter houses in Becca’s residence. He pulled into the driveway of an old Victorian style home. It was surrounded by a tiny wood picket fence and it had a cobblestone pathway leading to the front porch. There were trees everywhere, they were a rich green in colour, making the neighborhood come to life.

 “So this is your house?” I question breaking the silence.

 “Yep.” He simply replies while he fishes his keys out of his jacket pocket and unlocks the front door. He puts a finger to his lips. “My dad’s still sleeping.” He whispers. We tiptoe through the house and into his backyard.

 “What are we doing here?” My tone has risen, his father wouldn’t be able to hear me from all the way out here.

 “You’ll see.” I roll my eyes, he seemed to give me that answer a lot. He makes his way over to the tallest tree in sight, at the left hand corner of his garden. There were tiny picket fences surrounding what seemed to be different vegetables or flowers, each section was complete with a tiny label that stuck into the ground. Carrots, cucumbers, daisies, anemones. It’s quite funny to think that two grown men lived in this house.

 “Why do you have a garden?” I ask cocking an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t expect Cole McGrath to have a green thumb.”

 “Well,” He starts. “My mother’s favourite thing in this whole house was her garden, so now me and my dad made a promise to maintain it for as long as we can.” He seemed deep in thought as if he was trying to remember miniscule details. I think he feels the need to remember every bit of his mum, so he doesn’t lose her. “She used to sit on the swing set there, in the corner.” His gaze flickered to a rusty red swing set next to an overgrown rose bush.