On the first day you talked to me I was drawing. It was not anything of importance, just balloons in a sky. I have always liked balloons, and at the moment they were the focus of my inspiration. I had began to think of adding rain when I heard your voice above me.
"People should hold the balloons," you said. Your head was tilted slightly as you pondered over what you just said. "Yes," you repeated with a nod. "People should definitely hold the balloons." You seemed certain of your idea looking down at me happily. Your eyes shined with something I could only dream of feeling then.
I looked at you blankly. I was not usually talked to. Parents worry over the amount of black I always seem to wear from head to toe. The other kids are wary of the make-up and the heavy scent of nicotine and coffee I carry around with me. All in all I knew I was weird, but this all seemed to be forgotten right then.
You were talking to me.
I usually do not usually talk, but your smile was ebbing me on. I found myself wanting to smile back as I returnt to my sketchbook. "Maybe," was all I said, but I could tell it made you happy I responded at all no matter how simple it was. Your smile grew wider as you sat beside me on the cold concrete steps. You were tall for your age. I was too short for mine. This made us the exact same height. I thought about it only for the briefest second.
You suddenly laughed kicking a rock down the steps. I remember thinking that your laugh was contagious because I started laughing too. I never will know what we were laughing about, but you made it seem so easy to do so. I had forgotten about the drawing in my lap as I leant against you for support.
"Ike," you said. It took me a while to realise that was your name. It took me even longer to realise that the expectant look you gave me was asking for mine.
"Georgie," I finally said. I wondered if it was a good idea to tell you my name, but then your beaming smile erased any unease I felt. I think I must have gave one back as that feeling you had given me crept up my toes and to my mouth.
It was small and unsure, but I knew it was genuine.
.
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Several days later, I was sitting by myself during lunch again - the same spot I was in eight days and twenty minutes ago. I was sketching a new picture. It was the drawing of a boy holding onto a string and flying away by balloon. There was another boy on the ground clad in black holding his own balloon, but he did not fly. I had just gotten to shading the sky when I heard footsteps and someone sit beside me.
I admit it had surprised me. I was still unused to company while I ate my lunch. I was eating an apple, but I forgot about it as I glanced up and saw you again. "He needs wings," you said picking up a finger and pointing at the little black clad boy on the ground. "It's lonely to be by yourself," you said. I remembered thinking that I saw something in your eyes then. It was something I recognised too well.
I had no idea what came over me then, but I knew I wanted to see that light in your eyes I saw when you first talked to me. I was flipped to a blank page and I began to draw rapidly. You stared at me, the dullness in your eyes turning into curiosity as I drew. By the time the bell rang I held up a new picture, the flying boy was holding the black clad one's hand and helping him to fly with him.
Your eyes lit up then. I could feel some sort of heat on my face and something in my chest I was unused to feeling. I had no idea what it meant, but I did not mind it. "I like it," you said nodding in approval. "Can I have it?"
I was surprised by the question. No one had asked for my drawings before. Maybe it was because I never showed anyone. I did not even show them to my friends.
None of that matters anyway because I ended up carefully ripping it out and handing it to you. "Sure," I heard myself say, and I could feel the heat fade away replaced with another one of those ghost smiles I kept giving every single time I saw yours.
You smiled and carefully placed the drawing in your binder before the bell rang again. We only had a minute to make it to class. You got up and hugged me. My eyes opened wide as I stiffened. I barely heard you say goodbye and run off to your class before you were late.
I think I was too shocked to move.
.
.
It was weeks before I saw you again. I had not been eating lunch lately because I was too busy working on an art project. I was sure you did not miss me anyway. That is, I was sure until I suddenly saw you running toward me when you saw me in the library. You had worry all over your face, and I had no idea why. I squirmed in a sudden tight embrace staring down at you with your arms wrapped around me strangely.
"You weren't on the steps," you suddenly said. I was still staring, but now I was staring in more of a state of shock.
"What?" I asked eloquently. For once the always depressed look on my face was gone replaced with one of utter bewilderment. You were talking as if you had missed me. That had not been expected.
"You weren't on the steps, and I thought something happened to you," you repeated adding more to try and make me understand. Unfortunately, my confusion was only getting worse as I listened to your words. You had pulled away as if you had suddenly realised how awkward it was to be hugging me in the middle of the library. I took a glance out of the corners of my eyes to see people staring at us.
"Sorry," you said mumbling the apologies as you played with a blue coat sleeve. The heat was back on my face as I had decided maybe you were weird too - just in a different way. You were more outgoing and a genius, so I never thought it would be hard for you to make friends. I guess I could have been wrong.
"It's fine," I said scratching the back of my neck nervously. My hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that day because I had been painting and I did not want any of it of it coating my hair. You stared at me before your uneasiness was replaced with another smile as you suddenly grabbed my hand.
I was protesting, but you were walking and taking me with you. You were ignoring the stares of the other students as you pulled me right out the doors of the building and out to the fresh air and snow. I thought you were done with me then, but you kept walking until we came to a tree. I did not understand until you pointed up. I could see them now. Two balloons, one black and one blue floating toward the sky.
"Balloons," you said with the dumbest, silliest, most beautiful grin on your face. I swear it could outshine the sun, and I am not even using hyberbole.
"Balloons," I parroted staring at them with you until they disappeared. It was then I realised you were still holding my hand, and I had not realised I had been holding it back. My face flushed, but I did not want to pull my hand away. Instead I pretended not to notice staring at the piece of sky where the balloons had last been.
"Surprise Georgie."
When you said my name I looked over at you with a smile on my face. I think it was the biggest smile I had ever had. You must have figured out I love balloons. I did not think anyone would have noticed, but you did. That made me happy.
You were staring at me. I suppose it was in bewilderment. I do not think you were expecting the small and bright smile eithre. I believe it must have been the same bewilderment I felt when you grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed your lips against mine. It was a simple kiss really. It was merely you pressing your lips against mine as I stood still unsure what to do.
I still was unresponsive when you pulled our lips apart, and you looked at me. I think I heard you say something like an apology before you ran away.
Too bad I was too afraid to make sure.
.
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It was only a couple months, but it felt like years since I had last seen you. I was carrying my latest art project to the art classroom. School was over, but I was still there. I had to be the only student left in the building.
At least that was what I thought, but I have been wrong before.
I knew this was one of those times when I was wrong when I heard the sobbing from the boys restroom. It was soft and would have went unheard if it was not already so quiet in the school. I hate dealing with others problems, but the cry sounded so sad. I bit my lip before I dragged myself and my art project to the door and pushed it open it with my toe. When I came to the last stall I could finally see what was making the noise.
You were crying with your head buried in your knees on the bathroom floor. I could tell you were trying your hardest to go unnoticed, but it was in vain. I bit my lip again before picking up a finger and gently poking you. "Hey," I said. "These floors are dirty y'know." I knew it was stupid, but it caused you to stop sobbing. You shifted slightly, just enough that I could see a brown eye peeking at me from between your arms.
"I know," you finally said softly. I did not know why, but I was happy you were talking to me again. That weird feeling was back when I knew you were feeling a little bit better.
"So...," I said thoughtfully plopping on the bathroom floor beside you. It was not that gross when you think of all the other places you could sit. I think of a lot of things, but the only thing that comes to my mind is those two balloons and that kiss that happened months ago. I could not believe I remembered it, and I did not know why my mind wanted to ask you desperately why you ran away from me.
Then again, you did not need that right then.
"We should do something."
I do not think you were expecting me to have said that because you picked your head from your arms and blinked at me. You wiped at your nose with your sleeve before I reached up and pulled a piece of toilet paper from the roll. "Thanks," you mumbled a small, weak smile on your lips as you accepted the tissue. I waited until after you were done blowing your nose before repeating my statement.
"I was serious. We should do something."
You blinked at me again tilting your head in that odd way I had begun noticing you doing whenever you were thinking. I looked down not meeting your eyes. I did not want to admit I had began watching you in class when you had started avoiding me. I only looked back up when you had started speaking. "With me?" you asked shifting until you were on the balls of your feet and then standing up. You held a hand out to me. I accepted it.
"Yes," I said nodding my head standing up with you. I reached down and picked up my project. "I want to do something with you." My small smile was back when I looked at you. I do not think I will ever smile as much as I do around you. I have a hundred different smiles - that one was hopeful.
I think it might have even grew when you nodded in agreement. Your hand was still holding mine as if you had forgotten. I admittedly did not mind. "You sure?" you asked looking at me. "I mean... I uh..." You words deteriorated into mumbles as your face grew more flushed by each moment passed.
"I didn't mind," I said honestly.
You were stunned into silence your flushed cheeks getting darker. You did not say anything, you just nodded and gripped my hand tighter. I think now I know you aware you were still holding my hand.
"We should buy more balloons," you laughed all the worry wiped off of your face as you began to swing our hands between us. I do not think I was ever so relieved to see you smile. That was why I began holding your hand back intertwining our fingers as I pushed open the bathroom door.
"Yeah," I said a small laugh of my own accompanying the words. I was still not used to doing it, but your laugh always has been contagious.
.
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It's been three years, eleven months, five days, six hours, and eight minutes since that day. I am writing all of this down in this small little weathered notebook because I know in a few seconds your beaming smile will meet me with the news that you were accepted into that Ivy League college you have been wishing for since you were ten.
When I hand you the letter I will tell you not to open it until you are in your brand new dorm room even if I know you never listen to me. You will probably just open it as soon as you get home, and despite the time, whether it is six in the afternoon or two in the morning, will call me and tell me three little words I can never get enough when I hear them from you.
Three little words that will always make me wait for you even if you become a successful writer and I am just a pretty decent freelance artist. Three little words that will have me in the front row of your graduation even if I hate crowds and public places, but I will not care because you will be smiling. That is placed over everything.
That's why I am so happy you remembered all my birthdays. You came right over when I had told you my parents were getting a divorce despite it had been three in the morning on a Saturday when I had called you. Although I have never admitted it, I had thought it was my fault. You were there to weather through the fights with me and the bullying. You laughed with me making the rainiest day turn into a summer sun. You are the only one who ever helped me to realise what the bubbly excitement you always give me means.
"I love you Ike Broflovski."