New To The Feeling

Jake had taken me to the parking lot that housed today's previous events. I got into my car and we went our separate ways. No big deal. After the arguing and the dreams, I decided that I couldn't just let Wylie's secret go unnoticed. This pain he must be feeling is much stronger than I can ever understand. I knew that. I also knew that I must do something to help him. Whether it be saying hi in the hallway, putting up with his rude disposition, or just bringing his mother's grave flowers... it was all something I could do.

I stopped by a florist on the way back to the cemetery. I picked up a beautiful bouquet of flowers. There were all kinds of colors wrapped in the paper. I felt like I was holding the rainbow.

I drove up to the cemetery and hesitated a moment. I couldn't believe I was there. I couldn't stand cemeteries, but something much bigger than me was at stake. I got out of my car and walked the familiar path to Laura Kurns' headstone.

When I arrived, there was no one there. I half expected Wylie to be there. I guess I didn't think he had anywhere else to go. Apparently I was wrong. I leaned down onto the well-manicured grass. I placed the flowers at the base of the headstone. They looked so bright and cheery against the cold, cement headstone. I stood up to leave. The hair was standing up on the back of my neck. I didn't want to be there any longer than I had to be. I hurried out of the front gates.

***

School continued its daily routines. When English came about, I wasn't entirely sure how I was feeling about it, knowing that Wylie would be there. I wondered how his bruises would be looking. I stepped slowly into the classroom, glancing around for some kind of clue. Instantly I caught sight of his straight black mohawk. Why he has that thing, I have no idea, I though to myself. He definitely made a spectical of himself, though. The black and purple ring around his left eye looked sore. You could still see where his lip was cut and his knuckles were also the painful colors of a bruise. I continued on towards my seat.

For the first half of class everyone just sat, listening to Mr. Lee blab about something I took no interest in. We were watching slides of photographs. Each photograph featured a different famous American author. No one in the room seemed to care much.

My attention refocused on the teacher as the lights flicked on. His voice took over the room.

"Ok, everyone. We're going to get into your pairs. No, I didn't forget about the project you're doing on your partner," a unanimous moan filled the room, but Mr. Lee continued, "You need to know their heritage, their religion, their traditions, family members--" I looked at Wylie in front of me, "--and everything else in-between. Get as much information as you can. I'll tell you what to do after you take detailed notes on your partner. The notes are due tomorrow."

The classroom then broke into chaos. People were moving all over trying to reach their partner; some hesitated longer than others. Wylie simply sat there, never even making an attempt to talk to me. I sat a moment, collecting my thoughts, hoping that maybe he would make the first move--he never did. I finally moved to the empty desk next to him.

"Hi." He didn't look at me. All I could focus on what his eye.

"Oh. Hi." Wylie didn't seem up to it today.

"So," I cleared my voice so that I could buy myself time to think, "I was thinking we could start with me. I'll talk."

"Thanks." I wasn't expecting that from him.

"Sure. I have no problem starting first."

"No, not that." Wylie lowered his head and then raised his eyes to match mine. Now I was confused. "Thanks for leaving the flowers at the... you know."

"Oh," I pause a moment unsure of how to continue. "I, uh, wanted to do something for you... For you and your mom, but how did you know it was me?"

"First off," He began articulately, "no one else knows about her. And secondly, I was watching."

I felt my jaw drop to the table. He was watching? And furthermore I am the only one who knows? I couldn't believe it. He was there, in the cemetery just as I suspected. Why didn't he approach me? Suddenly it hit me. It probably had something to do with the fact that I pulled him from my car and shoved him over the curb. That would do it. But still, I was the only one to know.

"I didn't come up to you, because I could tell you don't like cemeteries and I didn't want to make it harder, knowing that I had probably made a terrible example of myself." Wylie's kinder side was beginning to show through. I could see that he wasn't quite used to random acts of kindness.

"It's ok. You have every right to be furious." I gave him a short-lived smile. He smirked back, but quickly looked back down to his hands. I looked down at the blotchy mess at the base of his fingers.

Still looking down, he replied, "You gave me a ride, I shouldn't have yelled... about this project--"

"We don't have to talk about you're family," I interrupted him, "We can talk about something else. We can make it up if you want." I realized I had placed a hand on his bruised limbs.

I looked up to him, who was staring at my hand on his. Our eyes met and I pulled my hand away. A wave of emotion hit me. That was unexpected; why did I do that? I pushed the thoughts from my mind. In truth, he probably should talk about it. He probably should turn in his stepfather. The image from before came back into my mind of an overweight, slob of a stepfather. Finally the look on Wylie's face registered. He was thankful and he didn't even have to say anything.

The rest of the class period we spent talking about my family. It took the weight off of him. He was more pleasant than usual considering what he went through. I was surprised. Every so often he would address me with some vulgar comment or inappropriate tidbit of information. I mostly managed to ignore it and sometimes couldn't hold back a giggle. I was on my way to fixing him.