You hate him. You absolutely hate everything he is. But you feel so sad seeing him now. Your heart is bigger than the sky and you understand human nature to well to read his signs wrong. He needs a friend.
He hasn’t been the same since the accident. He has been miserable actually. Baseball was his life and it produced all of this friends. Now though, in his top of the line wheel chair, it seems his legacy has come to an end.
He was king. He was mean. And you love that he is alone now after all of the years of torture you’ve endured due to his words. But you still feel for him. You still want to help him get through this.
He sits alone in the stupid cafeteria full of people who he as hurt and people who just don’t care. He has inflicted to many wounds for sorrow to fill the air of this school. He doesn’t look around as he eats his fries. He is deep in thought and it makes you nervous. But you walk over anyways leaving your friends behind. You can do this. If he has something to say than just walk away. But if he is nice, if he is nice, than you’ll stay. Be his friend maybe.
“Hi.” It is barely audible but he looks up confused. He heard you and you know it. He just doesn’t know what to do.
“Hi.” His response is dry and you feel like you sprung a leak and your hope is pooling onto the floor along with your guts.
“I was wondering,” You gulp down your dry throat fighting the words to break the surface sounding more than scared, “if I could sit with you. Maybe.” You look at the seat beside him, then across. Than he sees you and motions his hand to the seat. When you sit down he is still confused. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do.
“Why?” He asks. And it doesn’t sound mean and it makes you smile. Just curious.
“You looked like you needed someone to distract you.” And it was true. His features were to serious and his attitude to dry since the wreck. He needed a few pumps of life pushed back into him.
“You aren’t someone who should be willing.” You shrugged your shoulders because he was right but the thought of turning your back on someone you could help felt to wrong for words. “Thank you.”
You were the first person in a week to speak to him. He seemed like the first jolt of happiness was successful and you pray that everything else you do will make him just as happy. Maybe work it so he is pulled out of that wheelchair, his mind in a place much better. You hoped you could achieve that.