If Opposites Attract, Then We Were Meant to Be
September's Cold Shoulder
School seemed to be going well for us, until a month in that is.
We were walking to school as usual on the first day of September when I felt that something was, off. Our usual laughter was replaced with silence. Billie was walking with his hands in his pockets, looking at his feet as he shuffled along. I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder when all of a sudden; he turned and snapped at me. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” he barked, terrifying me. His eyes were a cold, dark green. They shot me a look of pure venom. I was completely taken a back; I had never seen Billie this angry. Here I thought I knew him, but now I pondered what I really knew about him. I decided to keep my distance and not mention the incident to anyone.
I didn’t talk to Billie for a little more than two weeks! His mood seemed to worsen everyday and wondered what I did to make him hate me.
On September 15th at around two in the morning I woke up yet again to the sound of rocks being thrown at my window. I looked out the frosty pane (it had gotten surprisingly cold that night); there stood Billie shivering in his hoodie and pajama bottoms. I tapped on the glass and motioned for him to do what we normally did. I crept downstairs, sneaking past my dad who was asleep on the couch watching T.V. again. I unlocked the door and let Billie in. He thanked me with his eyes. We hurriedly went up to my room with out saying a word to each other. Once in the safety zone he burst out bawling, his knees buckled as he sank to the floor with head in hands. I rushed down to meet him and for an hour just sat on the floor with him, holding him close and slowly rocking back and forth. We did this wordlessly until Billie wanted to share. “I’m sorry for being so angry and shutting you out Sam,” he sniffled as the silent tears continued to trickle down his face. “I-I just wanted everyone to feel what I was feeling. I just, I just miss him so much you know.” He whispered, choking slightly as his voice caught in his throat. I now understood, his dad, today was the day he died, exactly six years ago. I felt Billie’s pain. He cried until sleep overtook us. We slept peacefully on the floor huddled together.
In the morning we woke up early and Billie snuck out back to his house, where he would crawl through the window and into his room to sleep. We were on good terms again from then on in September. I even went to be supportive as he went to visit his father’s headstone.
We were walking to school as usual on the first day of September when I felt that something was, off. Our usual laughter was replaced with silence. Billie was walking with his hands in his pockets, looking at his feet as he shuffled along. I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder when all of a sudden; he turned and snapped at me. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” he barked, terrifying me. His eyes were a cold, dark green. They shot me a look of pure venom. I was completely taken a back; I had never seen Billie this angry. Here I thought I knew him, but now I pondered what I really knew about him. I decided to keep my distance and not mention the incident to anyone.
I didn’t talk to Billie for a little more than two weeks! His mood seemed to worsen everyday and wondered what I did to make him hate me.
On September 15th at around two in the morning I woke up yet again to the sound of rocks being thrown at my window. I looked out the frosty pane (it had gotten surprisingly cold that night); there stood Billie shivering in his hoodie and pajama bottoms. I tapped on the glass and motioned for him to do what we normally did. I crept downstairs, sneaking past my dad who was asleep on the couch watching T.V. again. I unlocked the door and let Billie in. He thanked me with his eyes. We hurriedly went up to my room with out saying a word to each other. Once in the safety zone he burst out bawling, his knees buckled as he sank to the floor with head in hands. I rushed down to meet him and for an hour just sat on the floor with him, holding him close and slowly rocking back and forth. We did this wordlessly until Billie wanted to share. “I’m sorry for being so angry and shutting you out Sam,” he sniffled as the silent tears continued to trickle down his face. “I-I just wanted everyone to feel what I was feeling. I just, I just miss him so much you know.” He whispered, choking slightly as his voice caught in his throat. I now understood, his dad, today was the day he died, exactly six years ago. I felt Billie’s pain. He cried until sleep overtook us. We slept peacefully on the floor huddled together.
In the morning we woke up early and Billie snuck out back to his house, where he would crawl through the window and into his room to sleep. We were on good terms again from then on in September. I even went to be supportive as he went to visit his father’s headstone.