Status: an·gel, noun: a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God
One for the Angels
Day 14
“We’ve been friends for two weeks now,” I said, handing Danny a chai latte and a blueberry scone.
“Yeah,” he agreed, peering down at the drink. “Wait. Before you go on . . . what exactly is this?”
“What, the drink? That’s a chai latte,” I said. “Oprah likes those, haven’t you heard?”
“I haven’t been paying attention to the news lately, no,” Danny said dryly, and before I could feel guilty, he went on, “And what is this?”
“A blueberry scone.”
“A scone! Wow.” He whistled. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“You caught me.” I settled down next to him. “Anyways, as I was saying. We’ve been friends for two weeks now, and –”
“Friends? Is that what you’d call it?” he asked. I glared. “Okay, okay, I’m done. Continue, please.”
“I liked it better when you didn’t speak,” I grumbled. “I was going to say that we should play 20 Questions. Learn more about each other.”
He stiffened immediately, and I could practically hear the lock clicking as he shut himself away. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I’d always been told that I was too persistent, too bossy, always badgering people until they gave in to what I wanted to do. I pushed too much, always trying to see parts of people that they hid away for specific reasons.
I knew this, and I pushed anyway. “That’s too bad. I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?”
He stared long and hard at me before he answered, “Blue. How old are you?”
“Eighteen. You?”
“Eighteen. When’s your birthday?” He asked the question quickly, but I didn’t miss the answer. Eighteen. He was eighteen years old and out on the streets. I tried to imagine myself in his situation and couldn’t. How could someone be that brave?
“July. Yours?”
“March. What’s your middle name?”
“Penelope.”
“Penelope? Really.” He grinned a little.
“My parents are very . . . eccentric.” I paused before I asked, “Why are you homeless?”
Just like that, the smile was wiped from his face. “I’m going to have to plead the fifth for that one,” he said finally. “If that’s okay with you.” His tone was much colder than it had been a second ago, and it made my heart sink. But I nodded regardless.
“Okay. What’s your favorite season?” I was thankful the question popped into my mind fairly quickly.
“Spring.”
“Really? Why?”
“I was born in spring, for starters. Plus . . . I just like the idea of it. Rebirth. Growth. It’s like everything gets a second chance, you know? You get to start over.” He seemed to realize what he was saying and shut his mouth.
I wanted to talk more, but my lunch break was over. “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” I said, pointing at him. “Don’t think I’ll forget.”
He gave me a sarcastic two-finger salute. “Yes ma’am.”
I went inside and took my place behind the counter, but all I could think about was the look in Danny’s eyes as he spoke about spring. You get to start over. And then it made me wonder what, exactly, he wanted to escape from.
“Yeah,” he agreed, peering down at the drink. “Wait. Before you go on . . . what exactly is this?”
“What, the drink? That’s a chai latte,” I said. “Oprah likes those, haven’t you heard?”
“I haven’t been paying attention to the news lately, no,” Danny said dryly, and before I could feel guilty, he went on, “And what is this?”
“A blueberry scone.”
“A scone! Wow.” He whistled. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“You caught me.” I settled down next to him. “Anyways, as I was saying. We’ve been friends for two weeks now, and –”
“Friends? Is that what you’d call it?” he asked. I glared. “Okay, okay, I’m done. Continue, please.”
“I liked it better when you didn’t speak,” I grumbled. “I was going to say that we should play 20 Questions. Learn more about each other.”
He stiffened immediately, and I could practically hear the lock clicking as he shut himself away. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I’d always been told that I was too persistent, too bossy, always badgering people until they gave in to what I wanted to do. I pushed too much, always trying to see parts of people that they hid away for specific reasons.
I knew this, and I pushed anyway. “That’s too bad. I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?”
He stared long and hard at me before he answered, “Blue. How old are you?”
“Eighteen. You?”
“Eighteen. When’s your birthday?” He asked the question quickly, but I didn’t miss the answer. Eighteen. He was eighteen years old and out on the streets. I tried to imagine myself in his situation and couldn’t. How could someone be that brave?
“July. Yours?”
“March. What’s your middle name?”
“Penelope.”
“Penelope? Really.” He grinned a little.
“My parents are very . . . eccentric.” I paused before I asked, “Why are you homeless?”
Just like that, the smile was wiped from his face. “I’m going to have to plead the fifth for that one,” he said finally. “If that’s okay with you.” His tone was much colder than it had been a second ago, and it made my heart sink. But I nodded regardless.
“Okay. What’s your favorite season?” I was thankful the question popped into my mind fairly quickly.
“Spring.”
“Really? Why?”
“I was born in spring, for starters. Plus . . . I just like the idea of it. Rebirth. Growth. It’s like everything gets a second chance, you know? You get to start over.” He seemed to realize what he was saying and shut his mouth.
I wanted to talk more, but my lunch break was over. “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” I said, pointing at him. “Don’t think I’ll forget.”
He gave me a sarcastic two-finger salute. “Yes ma’am.”
I went inside and took my place behind the counter, but all I could think about was the look in Danny’s eyes as he spoke about spring. You get to start over. And then it made me wonder what, exactly, he wanted to escape from.
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merry christmas!!!! if you don't celebrate christmas, i hope you had a good day anyway. the holiday carols will no longer be on 24/7. you can rest now.i thought this chapter was long af but then i realized it's actually short. oh well.
idk i feel like smiling so im gonna go do that.