“No way.”

In defence of my vinegar chips, I’ve blurted out the reply before I’ve even processed whether I want to respond to him. I clamp my lips together and attempt to push myself of the bench.  A pen suddenly enters my direct vision from him dangling it over my head and I’m forced to revert back to sitting on the bench to avoid the pen colliding with my forehead.

I’m stunned for a moment while he just chuckles in the background. He wiggles the pen in front of me. “You dropped this in the classroom,’ he says. When he gets no reply, he adds, “my hands starting to hurt.”

I grab the pen without a word and place it in my pocket. I’m hoping that’s enough to get him to leave me alone, but he circles around and takes a seat beside me on the bench. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

He stares at me with a determined concentration. Like if he stares at me long enough, he may just find whatever he’s curious about. The mere feeling of this situation was a familiar feeling that took over my entire body. It irks me. I shift my head in Quinton’s direction with a harshness in my gaze. Quinton doesn’t back down from it. The longer I looked into his stormy blue eyes it blurs and shifts until another pair of dark hazel eyes stares at me. Its too much and I whip my head away to avoid eye contact.

“Quit the staring,” I tell him, my voice clipped.

“Right,” he says, looking back in front of us. “What’s your name by the way? Mines Quinton Kingsley. But you might already know that.”

“I do.”

“Great. So, what’s the name?”

“Why?” I simply ask.

“Hmm.” I’m wondering whether he’s thinking about it or just trying to extend the time he takes to answer. “Simply put,” he replies, “I’ve suddenly become curious about you.”

“You make me curious, Julian. I want to know more about you.”   

I push up from the bench abruptly, my vinegar chips crashing onto the dirt and scattering. He follows my action. “Are you okay? What have I done?”  

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be curious,” I say sharply. “Don’t try to know me or be my friend. Just leave me alone.”

The air feels heavy as silence envelopes the area. I only take a few steps in order to make an escape but am forced to stop when a hand darts out and takes hold of my wrist from behind.

“Are you that hesitant to make friends?” he’s genuinely not able to understand why I’m being so unresponsive to him wanting to get closer to me.

“Look,” I say slowly, for my words to truly get through to him properly. “I’m not looking to make friends with anyone. I just want to get through the rest of this year focusing on my studies and sticking to myself.”

I place a hand over the one that is wrapped around my wrist and slip it off slowly. He watches the action. “So that’s why you shouldn’t be curious about me. No. Scratch that. Don’t be curious about me.”

I shift back around so that my back is once again faced towards him. “Thanks for the pen. Also, you can use this spot, I no longer have a need for it,” I say over my shoulder before I finally leave him grounded in his spot.

******

“Mom, we’re home,” Raina announces in a sing-song voice upon walking through the front door. Normally mom picks us on school days but there were still loads of unpacking to do and so we just agreed to take the bus home. It was full and uncomfortable, but more bearable thanks to Raina being there.

“Welcome home, darlings. I’m just in the kitchen.”

“Coming!” Raina responds in song. She slips off her school blazer and hangs it on the coat stand before throwing her bag onto the floor and skipping towards the kitchen. I do the same, minus the high energy and skipping. My whole body feels heavy as I follow into the kitchen, and I feel a headache coming on. I walk into Raina giving mom a back hug as they look down at the tablet. Mom’s eyes raise up, noticing me, and she ushers me to join them with the flick of her hand.

She steps back to allow me an opening to slip into the space in front of her before she wraps her arms around me in a back hug as well. Its like a train of back hugs. “Say hello to your father.”

An older version of me with similar eye color and curly hair smiles at me through the screen. “Hello my boy. How have you been?”

“Hi dad.” I smile back at him. “I’m okay.”

“That’s great.” He says softly. “How was your first day of school?”

My mind shifts back to the moment with Quinton. “Fine,” I tell him. “Just the usual study and lunch time.”

“That’s great. As long as your having fun.”

“Thanks.”

“We miss you, honey.”

Dad’s gaze softens the minutes he hears Mom’s words. “I miss you, too. My one and only.”

A hint of guilt tugs at my heart.  I know they are missing each other more than they care to display in front of me and a part of me can’t help feeling at fault for separating them. After all, the move would not have happened if not for me. And because Dad owns a law firm business in LA, he was not able to leave it.

“We’re going to duck to our rooms now. Have fun talking to mom a little more.”

“Okay son. It was good to see your face again.”

Mom gives me a squeeze before allowing me to escape and go back into my room. I walk to my bed and collapse onto my bed flat on my back. I slip off my shoes and shuffle until I’m completely comfortable. It isn’t a moment later that Hero by Enrique Iglesias plays. I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone.

The caller ID reads Montanna and genuinely makes me grin. I place the phone to my ear and wait for a few seconds before answering.

“Hello.”

“How’s my lovely Spanish man doing? Long-time no talk, bestie.”

“You’re asking me-” I pause, taking the phone off my ear before looking through our chat history and seeing that I had sent my last text 3 weeks ago. “You just read my text two seconds ago.”

“I know what you’re saying. But at the same time, I’m going to pretend like I don’t know what you’re saying in order to not feel so bad.” While Montanna was playing off my comment teasingly, there was a hint of guilt for not replying to me so long.

When I had attempted to take my life at the start of 4 months ago, as part of my recovery, my parents had applied for me to attend group session that involved attempted suicide survivors.  Montanna would always attend. Never participating but listening intently to everyone sharing their stories. At the time, we were both in a horrid place. I, depressed from failing. And her, bitter at the fact that her sister, Eliwoise, chose to leave her alone in this world. The group session was for her to try and understand the minds of suicide victims with a means to lessen the pain. When she had heard my story, it reminded her most of her sister and ever since she approached me, we've connected as friends on a deeper level. 

During the times that I've known her, I've learnt to adapt to her dark periods when the memories of her sister are far too overwhelming and consume her. Moments like those cause her to go off grid for however long she needs. "So, how’s the new school? What’s been happening?" 

"Same old. Lunch and study." 

"Ahh," she groaned over through the phone, “tell me something juicy. You can do better than that, Julian. " 

I found myself smiling at her dissatisfaction. "But that's the best part." 

"Julian Torres!" 

"Okay," I said, lifting the humour from my voice. "I witnessed something I shouldn't have and because of it, an annoying person is focused on me."

"Okay." I knew she was nodding her head on the other side of the phone while listening intently to my words. "So, what's his name?" 

"Quinton Kingsley." 

"From the way you’re saying his name I can tell he's gotten under your skin already. Tell me. What did he do?" 

“You make me curious, Julian. I want to know more about you.”   

I shut my eyes tightly willing those words to leave my head. 

"Julian?" 

"He told me that he's curious about me, " I blurt through a shaky voice.

The phone is silent while she processes. Finally, after what feels an eternity, she simply replies, "make sure you stay away from him."