The Answers
by Pierce Connor
Chapter One
I walk down the stark, gray corridor for the last time. My three month sentence is finally over. It doesn't feel real though. Maybe it just didn't feel like three months. It feels like only yesterday I was pleading guilty at my arraignment. It was my first offense, technically, so the judge gave me a light jail sentence. I think I know why the time felt so short. It was because of Fanboy. Yes, I've relapsed into calling him that. He says he likes it. Anyway, he's been really supportive and everything. He visited me every day, without fail. He even took time out from working on Schemata to see me. I'm not sure how to feel about that. I'm glad that he cared enough to come, but I want Schemata to go well too, so I feel guilty that's he's setting it aside because of me. I feel something else too: a mix of regret and gratitude. Why? Because Fanboy braved each of my horrid teachers every day to make sure I was caught up on my class assignments. See, I kind of have this complicated duality regarding school: I hate having to go, but I still want to do well. I guess it's just one of my quirks. So I've passed the time doing homework and thinking about things. Now I'm finally about to leave.
I listen to a short speech from some uniformed guard about living by the law and then the door opens and I take a deep breath, allowing the air to fill my lungs. I never thought something as simple as oxygen could taste so sweet. The first thing I see when I step outside its the car. His car. He's walking towards me with a smile. I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. Even today, he came. I walk forwards and meet him halfway. "How does it feel?" he asks me, "Being out, I mean." I look at him. That's a strange question, completely out of left field, but I answer anyway. "Like freedom," I tell him, "But I need to ask you something. Why did you keep visiting me? I mean, even if we were friends, I'm still the girl who almost ruined your life and involved you in my stupid mistake." Tears are starting to fall from my eyes now. Without warning, Fanboy wraps his arms around me, which, as usual, makes feel safe, secure, invincible. "Kyra, we've been over this," he says, "None of that stuff you mentioned matters. I came because I love you. There's no 'why' involved. It's completely unconditional." If there's a God out there, I should probably thank him for the miracle that is Fanboy. He's right. I've heard that answer before and I believe it. I guess I keep asking because I don't understand how it can be true. How can he love someone like me unconditionally? Well, it's a good thing, so I shouldn't worry too much now. "Come on," he says to me, "I'll take you home." I nod silently and follow him to his car. I settle into the passenger's side, and he begins driving away from the jailhouse.
Shortly into the ride home, another question occurs to me. "I need to ask something else," I say, "You know me better than anyone else. What do you think it is that makes me worthwhile?" Fanboy suddenly looks at me like I just said something really strange. "You don't need me to tell you what makes you a worthwhile person," he answers, "You already know that. You just need to take some time and figure it out." I'm surprised. He makes it sound so simple. Maybe it is. "I think I can do that," I tell him, "But...will you help me?" I feel so uncertain, asking a question like that, "I think it'll be too big to handle on my own." He smiles at me and I have to keep myself from melting right then and there. His smile always makes my heart skip a few beats. It's not like he has a really bright smile or anything, like the kind that most so-called "normal" girls always fall for, but it has this open, honest quality to it. "Of course I'll help you," he tells me, "You know I'm always going to be here for you." I nod again, not able to come up with a response to that. Bless him, bless him, bless him a thousand times over. What have I done to deserve someone like him? I already know the answer to that: Nothing. I guess that's what makes this so great. Anyway, I'm starting to think that with his help, I can solve this. He's right after all. The answer to the question is already in me, I just have to find it. "Fanboy," I say, letting the nickname roll across my tongue, savoring it, "Thank you. For everything." He shakes his head at me. "There's no need to thank me," he answers back, "I mean, you helped me back then, so it's the least I can do to return the favor." I smile at him and it comes naturally, same as always. I'll be fine. As long as he's with me, I know I can do this.