Wander Boy

It came as a surpise to the girl when she awoke to find that the boy was still in her bed, blankets flattened against him. She had not been completely sure why, but she half expected him to slip away during the night, vanish into thin air- and he very well could have. She'd seen him appear from dust, who was to say that he could nto vanish just as easily?

Her eyes traveled over the sleeping form. He was an intruiging specimen, not like any other boy she had seen before. He had a slim, angular face that was as pale as winter snow. His hair was the very color of a starless midnight and when she'd seen them last night, his eyes had been an icy blue. The way he slept made her start to weep gentle and she could not imagine why. There was just something about him, it seemed. He slept with his pink lips pursed, his nose slightly scrunched. He slept the way a trembling child would. In fact, that's how she saw him now. An innocent child, new to this world, yet holding a trembling, beautiful and terrifying aura about him.

She leaned forward, arm outstreched. Her fingers wiggled, begging her to touch his skin. She bit her lip, trying to resist, but her urges won the better of her in the end. She laid her finger tips against his cheek and drew them back quickly with a gasp. His skin had been soft, but it had also been as if touching dry ice. Her fingers burned from the cold and she had to stick them in her mouth to nurse them.

He stirred then and sat up a moment later. The window was open and the girl couldn't help but gasp again. His white skin seemed to litterally draw the light to it and absorb it, as if the sun radiated its heat for only this boy. She doubted that his skin would feel any different if she touched it again, but it was incredible to say. He pushed the blanket off of him in one swift, terrific motion that left her watching with great intent.

He looked at her, hard, blinking slowly as if he weren't sure of himself. He lifted his hand to his chest and took a handful of his old, ratty sweatshirt and bit his lip to keep from crying. She dared not say a word yet but just watched it all happen. He used his free hand to smooth down his hair and held it in front of his eyes to examine, then he examined the room and then he laid eye son her again. He blinked hard once more, pushing back a tear. It fell anyway- it was the color of the ocean on a sunny day.

"You wanted answers," he said slowly. There it was again, the newness. His voice was so soft and gentle, as if he'd never spoke before he'd opened his mouth. "I'd be happy to give them to you."

She shook her head quickly. "Are you hungry? We could talk over breakfast." Iliana watched the boy put a hand to his stomach and look at it thoughtfully. it took a moment for him to answer.

"Yes," he said slowly.

Conviently, it was Saturday and that gave the two the oppurtunity to eat out for their meal. Seeing as her parents both had high-end jobs, they left early in the morning and seldom returned before nightfall, so it was easy for the pair to slip out of the house unnoticed. She and Layne foudn themselves at the McDonald's on Third Street a few moments later. She ordered for him, for he had no conception of the process and they found a table together.

They sat and ate for a few minutes, barely speaking at all. Layne ate quickly and hungrily as if he hadn't eaten for weeks, months perhaps. She pondered it and decided that just might be the case. When he finished his egg McMuffin, he looked at her, icy eyes twinkling. "You want them now?"

"Yes." Her voice was weak but he ignored it and began to tell his story. Iliana sat with her head in her hands, leaned forward to him as he spoke. He told her of crazy, impossible things- of frozen wonderlands and worlds with six suns. He spoke of odd creatures he'd seen and the way he slipped between the fabric of the universe. He confessed to his depressions, his woeful predicament. He confessed to killing himself twice and how he would try it again if he hadn't known the outcome. He told her of his past, his beginning,- everything leading up until last night when he'd materialized in her room. And oddly enough, Iliana believed every single word.

Had it been anyone else, she would have laughed right in their face. But as she watched him tell his tale, she saw that he did not lie a single time. He spoke with diginity and truth, for what reason did he have to lie to her? In the end she guessed that his honesty stemmed from a need for someone to understand him and at the end of his tale, she felt like she did understand the curious boy.

She began to relay her own life to him as well and he listened just as she had. With accpetance and intrigue. It had only been an hour two of them talking but they already trusted each other. Neither knew why it was so easy to talk to the other but neither truly cared- someone cared and understood, that's all either could really ask.

When they finished their breakfast, and they were ready to leave, something stopped Iliana. A few girls from her school happened to be sitting a booth on the other side of the restruant and they were point and discussing the pair queitly. Iliana could see why. Layne seemed foreign, alien almost. Time and space and the ways of the world -aging, seasons, weather, eveything- seemed to halt and pass around him. It was almost as if he had been born from the stars themselves.

It wasn't until she stood up to lead Layne back to her own house that she realized that the girls had also been looking at her and talking about her as well as Layne. As they walked from the restraunt, she gazed up at the frost-like curiousity and thanked him silently. They had noticed her. She couldn't ask for anything better than that.