The *** and the Parliament
Lauren
He couldn't see, but I smiled at his dry humor. "Please come out of that stall," I requested. "And tell me your name."
I then waited patiently, and as I had hoped, the door started to open, so I stood up and watched the boy step cautiously out of the stall. He squinted, scrutinizing me. As I waited for him to deduce that I was indeed benevolent, I inspected him in return. He was very small and thin, only reaching about five and a half feet, two inches shorter than me, and I would have been surprised to find he weighed anymore than one hundred fifteen pounds. His auburn hair was a bowl cut that had grown out, pushed back out of his dark emerald eyes, which I noticed were starting to look more welcoming.
"You aren't hurt, are you?" I asked.
He kept his eyes on me as he shook his head.
"Will you tell me your name?"
"Elliot," he whispered.
"Pleased to meet you, Elliot." I held my left hand out, and with only a brief hesitation, he shook it.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry!" I said suddenly, putting my arm down, and Elliot furrowed his brow. "You shake with your right hand, not your left! I'm ambidextrous, and I just used my left hand to punch..."
"I'm left-handed anyway," he shrugged.
I laughed at that. "Then I guess it doesn't matter."
I fixed my gaze on his neck. "Your scar." He reached up to cover it, as if that would make his responsibility go away. "I need you to tell me when you got it."
"Three months ago. Look, I don't need your-"
"Three months ago?" I repeated in shock. "You should be dead!"
Elliot didn't speak as my last word echoed through the restroom. His face showed no emotion, only understanding that I was right. He wasn't supposed to be here, even breathing, much less standing around talking with me, and he knew it. I was bewildered as to how he did it. Elliot had cheated death.
I then waited patiently, and as I had hoped, the door started to open, so I stood up and watched the boy step cautiously out of the stall. He squinted, scrutinizing me. As I waited for him to deduce that I was indeed benevolent, I inspected him in return. He was very small and thin, only reaching about five and a half feet, two inches shorter than me, and I would have been surprised to find he weighed anymore than one hundred fifteen pounds. His auburn hair was a bowl cut that had grown out, pushed back out of his dark emerald eyes, which I noticed were starting to look more welcoming.
"You aren't hurt, are you?" I asked.
He kept his eyes on me as he shook his head.
"Will you tell me your name?"
"Elliot," he whispered.
"Pleased to meet you, Elliot." I held my left hand out, and with only a brief hesitation, he shook it.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry!" I said suddenly, putting my arm down, and Elliot furrowed his brow. "You shake with your right hand, not your left! I'm ambidextrous, and I just used my left hand to punch..."
"I'm left-handed anyway," he shrugged.
I laughed at that. "Then I guess it doesn't matter."
I fixed my gaze on his neck. "Your scar." He reached up to cover it, as if that would make his responsibility go away. "I need you to tell me when you got it."
"Three months ago. Look, I don't need your-"
"Three months ago?" I repeated in shock. "You should be dead!"
Elliot didn't speak as my last word echoed through the restroom. His face showed no emotion, only understanding that I was right. He wasn't supposed to be here, even breathing, much less standing around talking with me, and he knew it. I was bewildered as to how he did it. Elliot had cheated death.