There was something, there was something there. Something behind the strange, quirky, smile of the wiry teenage boy sitting in the courtyard of the high school underneath an oak tree.
I wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, I told my mother I was going to a friend's house, but I wanted to explore the grounds of the school I was going into next year.
The boy stared, with his taunting blue eyes digging into me like daggers, piercing into my soul. His hair was a messy blondish-brown, cut in uneven layers, obviously done by hand. He was wearing a very worn sweater with red and green stripes even though it was only fall and winter wouldn't come for at least another 3 months.
He had a mischievous look about him, sitting alone like that. Maybe that was what made me want to go talk to him. Something drew me to him.
I strolled over so I was about two feet in front of him without saying a word, expecting him to say something or another, but he didn't. We just stared at one another until I broke the silence and asked, "What's you're name?"
His eyes gleamed as he replied, "Freddy. What's yours?"
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
"Well, you know my name and that I go to this school, doesn't that mean you know me?"
"I guess."
"Then what's your name?"
"Anne."
"& how old are you?"
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"I'm thirteen."
"Well, Anne, would you like to walk with me?"
"Sure."
He stood up and I fallowed him as he started walking towards the actual school building that was painted a pale rose color. It might have been a stupid idea considering that I had just met this guy and didn't know him at all, but, who cared? It's not like he was going to hurt me or anything.
He was much taller than me, but I didn't really care.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"You'll see." I matched his stride and we walked quite briskly side by side, passing lockers and classrooms, both deserted because of Thanksgiving break.
Then, suddenly, Freddy stopped and turned to me. I halted too.
"What is it?" I asked because I thought something might have been wrong.
He jabbed me in the shoulder and then took off running. I stood, confused for a moment, until I heard him call from around another corner, "You're it!"
I smiled; I hadn't played tag in so long! All my friends thought it was too childish, but apparently, Freddy didn't.
Running down the hall I last saw him dart down, I caught a glimpse of him closing a door.
He must have had a key or something because all of the doors were locked, I knew that for a fact.
My heart raced as I rushed down the hall and heaved the door open as fast as I could. I didn't notice the sign on it that said Boy's Locker Room.
The door shut behind me and I found myself in a room filled with rows of lockers and showers behind them. The floor was tile, and musty tile at that.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" I called in a singsong voice.
Before I could take a step forward, a blur of red, green, and tan hurled towards me from my right and slammed me onto the floor.
The back of my head smacked the tile and whatever hit me was now holding my wrists and lightly sitting on my stomach so I couldn't get up.
It took me a moment to realize it was Freddy because my head began throbbing, but when I did, I complained, "That hurt!"
He had an odd look on his face. It was something like smiling, but it seemed a bit off.
I tried to sit up, but he held me firmly to the ground.
"Get off!" I said.
"No!"
"I'm serious, you're hurting my wrists!"
"Good."
"What?" I looked up, quite puzzled.
He slowly leaned down until his lips were almost touching my ear and he was making me extremely uncomfortable and whispered, "Good. It's gonna get a lot worse."
A shiver ran down my spine and I said softly, "What did I do to you?"
He kissed my neck and replied, "Nothing."
I got the chills again and again as he kept kissing my skin, getting lower and lower each time until he made it to my chest. My lips trembled and I had the funniest sensation that made my muscles relax even though I knew what he was doing was wrong and I didn't like it.
"I'm going to let go of your hands, alright?" He said sweetly, "Don't struggle or I'll make it hurt a whole lot more than it already is."
I nodded my head and a tear streamed down my cheek as he let go of my left wrist and pulled down one of the straps of my spaghetti strapped shirt. He let go of my other hand and stared into my eyes as he took a hold of the front of my shirt with both of his hands and ripped it quite easily, revealing my bra and my bare stomach.
He cocked his head and smiled at my chest and I turned my head away and closed my eyes, ashamed. I couldn't do anything to stop him, I felt small and helpless, because that's exactly what I was.
More tears came as I felt him move back so he was sitting on my thighs and start to undo the button and zipper of my jeans.
Then there was a split second when he got up to pull my pants down, and before he could, I scrambled out from under him and stumbled up. I didn't look back to see if he was chasing me or not, I didn't really care. I was escaping!
I threw open the door and ran as fast as I could across the grassy courtyard, holding the giant tear in my shirt together with one hand.
Crying the whole time, I escaped across a busy street and down the block to my friend's house. I told her what happened and we agreed to keep it just between us since my parents thought I was only over here in the first place.
She lent me a shirt and I walked home, looking behind me every couple minutes to make sure Freddy, the boy with the ice-cold eyes, wasn't following me.
As soon as I got home, I felt safe. I did the usual things I did until I was supposed to go to bed. I had this weird feeling like the boy was out there and knew where I was so I set up a chair by my window that looked out onto part of my roof and the dark street past that and just watched.
When it got to be about eleven, I fell asleep with my head on the windowsill. I wasn't up to see the dark figure of a teenage boy walk down my street, climb up the side of my house and open my window from the outside in. I also didn't know that he picked me up and walked back down the street with me lying in his arms. The arms of a stranger.