Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
With a confused expression, I stopped walking, waiting for him to meet up to me. Normally, Drake was the first one back in the classroom and in his seat after recess, but not today.
Today it seemed something was bothering him. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but he seemed more… vulnerable. More vacant. Less… hostile, maybe?
“I know I ask a lot of questions,” I said as he met at my side, burying his fingers in his front pockets, “but can I ask you something?”
He didn’t look at me when he answered. “I guess.”
“Why did you want to swing with me today?”
He shrugged. “Just wanted to.”
“Do you swing a lot with your mom?”
I realized when I mentioned his mother he sort of froze, nostrils flaring and turning red at the edges.
He met my eyes and calmed himself immediately, as if the sight of me sort of eased him a bit. “She’s… not here anymore.”
“Oh.” I dropped my head, my curly hair curtaining my face. “Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry. It happened. It’s done. That’s what my dad always says to me.”
“Why would he say that to you?” I whispered, suddenly angry with his unknown father.
Drake looked up. I heard people whispering around us and when I turned my head to look with him, I noticed all the other students staring at us.
I narrowed my brows at some of them, but Drake had his fists balled again, brows furrowed. “Hate it when people stare at me,” he mumbled.
“They’re just jealous they can’t be you,” I said as quickly as possible, hoping it would smother some of that fire in his eyes.
Surprisingly, it did. He stared at me briefly before snatching his gaze away and rushing forward to join the line.
I caught up with him, stepping into the classroom and following him to our table.
He took a seat, and I grabbed the chair beside him, sliding it out, picking up my backpack, and then placing it on my lap. Digging through the side pocket, I stuck my tongue out, concentrating on getting the object.
“What are you doing?” he asked beneath his breath, looking around nervously.
I didn’t answer him. Instead, when I came across the shiny silver item in my bag, I pulled it out.
Dropping the backpack, I placed the silver cross on the table and ran my fingers across the edges. Drake watched how I stroked the cheap metal.
I smiled, remembering just where it came from.
“My brother gave this to me when I had to go to summer camp two years ago. I was afraid, but he told me there was nothing to worry about. He believed in Jesus, and he said Jesus would always protect me. And he also told me that he would always protect me.” I slid the cross across the desk, in Drake’s direction. He frowned down at it.
“Why are you giving it to me?” he probed.
“Because I want you to know that you aren’t alone. I’m your friend… if you want me to be. I don’t think you’re a freak or any of that stuff people call you. I think you’re nice and if you want, we can hang out everyday during recess. That way we won’t be alone. That way we can sort of be… friends.”
I displayed an awkward smile as Drake studied me with hard, cold eyes. They were dead, as if all of his life had vanished right before his very eyes.
I felt so sorry for him, but I knew he hated sympathy just as much as I did. I picked up the cross, holding it out to him, urging with my eyes for him to accept it.
To my surprise and satisfaction, Drake reached up and took it, his throat working hard to swallow. “You should keep it.”
“No.” I shook my head as Mrs. Pots called for the class to calm down. “I think I’m okay now. I know Mitchell and Jesus are watching and protecting me. Maybe Mitchell can watch and protect you to… maybe even your mom.”
Drake dropped his gaze, allowing it to linger on the cross. He studied the metal. It was just a cheap little thing, something Mitchell won in a vending machine at an arcade, but he had loved it. It took him hours to win it in the claw machine. He had it hanging in his room on the wall. He looked at it every day and took it with him everywhere for good luck.
He gave it to me because he trusted me to take care of it. And now, I was trusting Drake to protect it. “Just make sure you bring it to recess everyday, okay?” I asked, my face now serious. “You have to take care of it. It’s very special.”
Drake nodded, lifting his hips to slide the cross into his pocket. “I will,” he promised. “I won’t mess it up. I swear.”