Sunday, October 3, 2010

Secrets To Be Told...: Part 6

“Jordan?” I heard a weak mumble come out of the hood. “Who the hell is Jordan?”
            “Don’t you try to play games with me!” I said stubbornly. ‘What now? Jordan thinks he can fool me? Jesus, I’m going to hurt him.’
            “What the HELL are you saying?” he mumbled a bit louder.  He slowly moved himself up in a sitting position and his hood came off his head.  I then saw his face.
            ‘Oh shit. What have I done?’  The face I saw wasn’t Jordan’s.  Heck, it wasn’t even someone I knew.  This boy had dark brown hair and a perfect pale complexion, unlike Jordan’s dirty blonde mop and freckled-tan face.  He had blue eyes , that stared at me with fear and frustration. The only blue eyes I remember looking at me were Jordan’s, and the only thing I ever saw from his eyes was a sinister and lustful look.
            “I am so, so sorry.” I said weakly, as I backed away into the lockers. “I am so, so, SO sor-“  I couldn’t continue the sentence.  Tears began to roll down my cheeks, and I found myself choking on my own sobs.
            The stranger boy with blue eyes just stared at me; this time it wasn’t with fear, but with compassion and curiosity.  He slowly scooted his way next to me and cradled me on to his lap.  I just sobbed on this stranger’s lap, not even caring that I probably seemed like a broken down mess. ‘Where’s Alisson when I need her?’  I didn’t look at my watch to see what time it was, but through my tears, I saw several students walking past us. ‘It must be around7:35am.  I hope my teachers don’t see me.  I don’t want to have to explain my sad sob story.’  The stranger boy, whose compassion surprised me, began to ask me questions.           
            “ So, whose this Jordan guy?” he asked, with a soothing, but obviously curious voice.
            “Jordan… was a mistake.  A terrible, horrible, excruciatingly painful mistake.” I managed to say, while choking on my sobs even more.   I looked down on his lap, and realized that I created a puddle on his lap.  ‘He won’t mind; he’s stayed with me for THIS long.’
            “Did he hurt you? Was he your boyfriend?”
            “He was not my boyfriend.  He was this guy, who used to go to school here. He was a junior when I arrived as a freshman.  I don’t think you want to hear it… it’s a bit too much.”
            “Try me.” He looked me in the eyes, with that same compassion. ‘Damnit.’
            So I did.  

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