The dying sun caressed his face and I couldn't take my eyes away. An
innocence surrounded him, and I felt like I was a part of that purity.
"If you do not stop staring at me, there will be hell to pay," Chris Chambers informed me, not looking in my direction.
"I'm bored," I told him irritably. "I want to go home now."
"I'm not done," he sighed patiently.
I jumped off the fence I was perched on. "I beg to differ." A rock hit me on the shoulder and I yelped. "That was mature."
"Well, sit back down then, I'm not walking you home until I'm finished." He wound up and threw another rock. It hit one of the aluminum cans lined up on the fence and knocked it to the ground.
Feeling pity for him before I could stop myself, I didn't say anything for awhile. When three more cans were down, I asked, "When do you think you'll be done?"
He paused and I knew his thoughts were racing and jumbled. I felt like I was intruding on something. Another can fell. "When I stop being pissed."
"Chris. If you'd try talking to me, or just try letting me talk to you, maybe you'd get un-pissed a little quicker." I wished he'd look at me. "Besides, those cans hate you so much. They curse you."
Chris smiled wordlessly. He dropped the rock he was holding and stooped to pick up his hat, which he had flung to the ground in an angry fit.
I didn't know what had happened at his home that evening, but Chris came over to my house earlier looking like he'd had the worst day in his life and he wanted revenge or something. Of course he didn't want revenge; he wasn't like that. But I went with him because he looked like he needed a friend. He led me out to a back field where he had been chucking rocks at empty pop cans for the past hour and a half to relieve some anger.
My face lit up. "I get to go home now?"
"I guess."
"So you're going to talk to me about what happened at home?"
He shook his head. "You know what happened. Same thing that always happens. I probably pissed off my old man by like, sneezing or something." The light was gone from his face now and he got that creepy old man look. "Maybe we could walk around for awhile?"
Hating how useless I was to Chris, I nodded.
"I hate him."
I knew. I just didn't know what to say.
"And I hate how I feel like I don't got a home."
Ironically, the first thing that I wanted to do was correct his grammar. I smiled sadly and said, "Maybe home's not a place with a welcome mat or whatever. You know?"
I don't know if he did now. That was all I said. But by the look in his eyes, I think maybe he did.
"If you do not stop staring at me, there will be hell to pay," Chris Chambers informed me, not looking in my direction.
"I'm bored," I told him irritably. "I want to go home now."
"I'm not done," he sighed patiently.
I jumped off the fence I was perched on. "I beg to differ." A rock hit me on the shoulder and I yelped. "That was mature."
"Well, sit back down then, I'm not walking you home until I'm finished." He wound up and threw another rock. It hit one of the aluminum cans lined up on the fence and knocked it to the ground.
Feeling pity for him before I could stop myself, I didn't say anything for awhile. When three more cans were down, I asked, "When do you think you'll be done?"
He paused and I knew his thoughts were racing and jumbled. I felt like I was intruding on something. Another can fell. "When I stop being pissed."
"Chris. If you'd try talking to me, or just try letting me talk to you, maybe you'd get un-pissed a little quicker." I wished he'd look at me. "Besides, those cans hate you so much. They curse you."
Chris smiled wordlessly. He dropped the rock he was holding and stooped to pick up his hat, which he had flung to the ground in an angry fit.
I didn't know what had happened at his home that evening, but Chris came over to my house earlier looking like he'd had the worst day in his life and he wanted revenge or something. Of course he didn't want revenge; he wasn't like that. But I went with him because he looked like he needed a friend. He led me out to a back field where he had been chucking rocks at empty pop cans for the past hour and a half to relieve some anger.
My face lit up. "I get to go home now?"
"I guess."
"So you're going to talk to me about what happened at home?"
He shook his head. "You know what happened. Same thing that always happens. I probably pissed off my old man by like, sneezing or something." The light was gone from his face now and he got that creepy old man look. "Maybe we could walk around for awhile?"
Hating how useless I was to Chris, I nodded.
"I hate him."
I knew. I just didn't know what to say.
"And I hate how I feel like I don't got a home."
Ironically, the first thing that I wanted to do was correct his grammar. I smiled sadly and said, "Maybe home's not a place with a welcome mat or whatever. You know?"
I don't know if he did now. That was all I said. But by the look in his eyes, I think maybe he did.