Lonely Boy

I don't see Rhett for five days. I call his house after three days of not speaking and his mother says he's sick. I get Mom to take me to the grocery store and pick up a few cans of soup. She drops me off at his house, and I walk up to the door and knock, the cans of soup knocking against each other in the bag with every step I take.

His mother answers the door. I smile. "I brought Rhett some soup. Maybe it'll help him get better."

Her lips are pursed into a thin line, and she smiles sadly at my words. "Thank you, honey," she says, and automatically I know she's not telling me something. "The kitchen is around the corner if you want to make him a bowl."

I do. I bring it up to his room, knocking lightly on his door in case he's sleeping. "Come in." His voice is more raspy than usual. "Oh, Mila," he says when I enter. "I thought you were Mom."

I smile. "I b-brought you some soup. I called a couple days ago and your mom told me you were sick, so I figured that maybe you would want s-some." I feel my cheeks heat up, suddenly aware of the fact that I'm in his room and he's in bed and not wearing a shirt.

He laughs sadly, just like his mom. "Thanks. Come here," he says and pats a spot on his bed, motioning for me to sit. When I do he speaks again. "I'm not actually sick sick. I, um, didn't take my medication one day and it got really bad, s-so they, um, put me on a short watch."

My heart breaks for him, and I frown.