Why Would He Believe in Me?

I sit on the park bench. I hadn’t sat here in almost two years, and yet being here now, it could of been last week. It could of been yesterday. But it wasn’t. And things were different now. I'd changed, for the better I hoped, but all the same; I was different. I looked different too. Two years in America with my dad had changed me. No one recognized me. I'd just been in 'Larry's', Even Larry didn’t recognize me anymore. Even though I’d spent almost every afternoon throughout high school, bunking math in there. With him...

These memories were painful. I'd known all along that returning wouldn’t be easy for me. Bu at the same time I'd known I would have to do it someday. Because when I'd left Sheffield, I'd left part of myself behind. So here I was, to get it back. So far... well... not so good.

Shayleigh skipped up to me, hot dog in hand.

"I love it here" She beams happily. "No body's in a rush. They all take their time to be... accommodating!"

I scoffed at this. Poor Shay. She'd never left America before yesterday when we got here. She didn’t know anything about it here yet though. I was willing to bet all my money that this time next week, she would not be saying the same things of this town.
In my almost two years I'd been in America, I dreamed all night of being back here in Sheffield. And when I slept, I dreamt of it. I was never free of it. The school corridors. The half pipe in the park. Larry's. My house. His face...
But now I was back, I was feeling quite different. They say the grass is always greener... Well, this was different. Now I was back, all the memories were flooding back. Trudging through the snow at 6:30 every morning to get to school, only to be pushed around and picked on. Teacher, constantly yelling at me 'Nic, you need to get your act together!'. All the kids, pushing me in the corridor. Breaking my ankle on the half pipe and not being allowed on the school ski trip. Being banned from Larry's for thieving. Even though it wasn’t me. Fighting with my brother at home. Fighting with my Mom... And Tom.

Who was I kidding. He was why I was back. And he was why now I was back, I was wishing more than anything I was back in safe America. It wasn’t that I fancied him. Far from. No, me and Tom were just friends. That’s just the way it was. The way it had always been. He'd always been there for me, through thick and thin. When I got in trouble, he'd take the blame. When i got bullied, he'd stick up for me. When I broke my ankle, he didn’t go on the ski trip. Said he didn’t want to. We spent the 2 weeks playing video games and learning to play guitar. But I knew he dreamt of the snow beneath his feet. And whenever I was upset, he always cheered me up. Then, when the ultimate worst thing in the world had happened, he'd promised he wouldn’t leave me. He'd stay with me, He'd look after me. But I'd ended up in America, with my Dad, and his new family. Ignored. Because I was only fifteen. He said if I called him, he'd always be there for me, on the other end of the phone. So where had he been every night for the first 3 months when I'd rung up, crying, and got voicemail.

Some friend.