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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1097457-That-Boy
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Teen · #1097457
Teenage love story...
She lay beneath the tree, beneath the stars, and she felt his hand grasp hers. Suddenly her mind sped onto memory lane.

They were standing beneath the exact same birch tree. It was their freshman year in high school. They waited under that tree in her front yard as they waited for the bus to come, the rain pouring about them. She looked at the boy. He was unfamiliar.

“Why are you at my bus stop?” He looked her way and as he studied her, she studied him. He was a tall boy, very sturdy in a bulky sort of way. He stood at least a head above her. His hair wasn’t long, but it was long enough to hang over his eyes. He pushed back the wisps with his hand and his miraculous blue eyes popped from under the brown streams. He smiled.

“Well sorry that I have invaded ‘your’ bus stop, but I moved in two houses down, and well, I need a bus stop too.” She grinned. The way he spoke was calm and reassuring. It was kind and gentle. It was sarcastic and humorous.

“I suppose we can share.”

“Lovely,” he answered.

So they did. From then on though, not only did they share their bus stop, they shared their seats, they shared their possessions and they shared a blossoming friendship that could never be broken.

She looked up at the sky again, remembering that wonderful first encounter with the boy she loved. She stared at the North Star, the very star he had taught her to point out.

“Look there,” she heard him say in her head as she again went back to another time in the past. “That there. See the big dipper? See the last star on the handle?” She watched his finger trace along the sky. “If you follow the direction of the handle, eventually you come to the North Star. Do you see? Do you see?”

“Yes, I see it!” They were silent until he asked her to find it for him. She did and he praised her.

She drifted back to reality, tracing the sky with her own finger. Again, she wanted to remember.

She remembered the time they sat at the river. He was teaching her to fish. He loved to teach her.

“It’s all in the wrist,” he said. “It’s all in the wrist.”

“I don’t know what that means!” she whined. He took her hands and helped her. When the first attempt failed, he helped her try again, and again, and again until she was successful. The fish pulled. She lost it. She cast again and he cast his. A fish pulled on his, and he reeled it in. She stared at him with jealousy and with a gleam of contempt in her eyes.

He grinned. “You’ll get it next time.” And she did. All with his help. She couldn’t help but feel excited. That night she had bragged to her father about her heroic catch. He laughed. In bed that night she thought about it and realized she couldn’t think about anything but his arms around her shoulders and his hands on hers, helping her, guiding her. She had gasped and shoved those thoughts far away in her brain.

Back in the real world she was reminded of when those thoughts had returned to her. They had been at school. During class, the one kid she loathed had taunted and teased her. She came into the hall, tears gracing the corners of her eyes. He came up concerned.

“Are you ok?” She shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge the defeat the tears made her feel. “Do you need a hug?” he asked. Again, she shrugged and felt his arms wrap around her. She felt tired, and leaned her head against him. She breathed. He smelled good. She realized neither of them had moved. It had been a while. He should probably let go and she should probably move away. But they didn’t. Not until a little later. She looked at him and he smiled. She loved this boy dearly. She knew it.

That had been the first time they realized they cared so much about one another, and not just as good friends. She remembered their first kiss. They were picnicking, if only in his backyard. It was a thing she loved to do. She had pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes, breathing in the summer air, as school was now out and the month of June caressed their faces. Before she could open her eyes though, she sensed him move, and suddenly his lips touched hers. What bliss.

Once more she was staring at the stars above. She didn’t want to return to the real world quite yet though. She floated back to their sophomore year. A friend had walked up to her. It was a friend that adored her very much, but the only feelings she possessed was for her best friend, the boy she loved. They talked, and as friends they had a habit of joking in many ways. He flirted, she pretended. It was all in good fun. But he saw.

That day after school when she realized they had not spoken much, she walked down to his house. He answered the door grimly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sincerely curious.

“I saw you today. You were awfully flirtatious.” She was so confused. She stood for several minutes in silence, thinking. Finally she understood.

“Oh! Do you mean that? That was nothing. Just jokes. We always do that. You know that. I am only friends with him. You know that.” He shrugged.

“Sure didn’t look like ‘just friends’.”

She tapped her foot impatiently. “Oh, don’t be difficult.”

“I’ll be difficult as long as you are flirtatious. I don’t like that. I know you are just friends, but I want you to be mine, and only mine, so long as we are together.”

“It was all a joke!” Her voice began to rise. “Can’t I even joke?”

“No!”

She glared. “You’re selfish and jealous. Don’t you realize girls don’t like jealous men?”

“You sure have for a long time then. If it’s taken you this long to figure out that I’m a jealous guy, then you’re retarded!”

She stomped off. The words that fumed through her head couldn’t get out of her mouth fast enough, so she just left. They didn’t speak the next day, and that night she felt his absence. She missed him dearly. He may be difficult, but she still loved him. It was 2 in the morning. She couldn’t help it. She called his cell. Groggily he answered.

“I can’t live without you.”

“What?” He was confused.
“I cannot live without you. I need you.” There was silence on the other end. Had he hung up? No. Perhaps he had fallen asleep.

“Hello?”

“Sorry. It’s just, well, I need you too. Darling, I love you so much and I’m sorry. It’s my fault. It’s just I couldn’t bear to see you even joke with another guy because I can’t even imagine you with another guy. I want to be with you forever so badly.”

She smiled. “Get some sleep darling. Goodnight.”

“Mmm, goodnight.”

Under the stars she grinned to herself. That had been wonderful. Her mind pressed fast forward, and they were one year ahead. Junior year. It was Saturday and they sat on his front porch, hands clasped. She looked at him.

“I wish I could come,” she said turning to look at him. To look at that face she knew so well and loved so much.

“Yeah, me too. But hey, it’s only a couple days and it’s only Seattle. We’ll talk on the phone. You know I can’t get out of family reunions.” She nodded, knowing all too well he couldn’t. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve got to go now though.” Again she nodded and they embraced. They said goodbye and she watched him drive down the street. Little did she know then, this trip was a catastrophe.

That night she got a call. It was his mother. After talking several minutes, she sat staring at the wall in disbelief. The phone hung limply by her ear.

“Honey?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“You can still visit him you know. The hospital has good visiting hours. He’d love to see you.”

“He’s in a coma,” she said bluntly. “He wouldn’t know the difference.”

She heard a sigh on the other end. “So you don’t want to see him?”

“I’ll see him. I just, does he look bad?”

“Yes honey. He does. He’s banged up. The crash was bad. You could wait a while, if you don’t want to see him like that.”

She stared again.

“Honey, are you sure your ok?”

Silent tears streamed down her face. “I’m fine. I need to see him. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

And she was. She traveled alone though and got to the hospital. They showed her to his room. She stood outside the door for several moments before she found the strength to go in. She turned the knob and saw the bed. Her eyes moved up and saw the bruised hands, the cut arm, the bandaged head. She was dizzy. She leaned against the wall covering her face with her hands. It was bad. He was hurt. She cried.

Finally she walked up and stroked his face. She thought it felt lifeless and terror struck her, but the machine said he was still breathing. The machine said his heart was still beating for now.

She cried many nights after that moment, and now, a month later, she sobbed. She stared up to the stars and she again felt his hand grasp hers, so she looked to see his face, but it wasn’t there. It was never there anymore. It was the cell phone that she gripped with white knuckles; the cell phone that had brought her the news that his face would never be there again. He was gone.
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