Chapter 1 - When I Met Him

I walked alone. Again, but not that I minded. I really am a loner, even if it doesn't seem so much anymore.


I was fifteen. The summer before my freshman year of high school. I was scrawny, had glasses, and no self esteem. You really could say I was unattractive.


So, yes, I was walking. I did a lot back then. The sun was going down, the air was cool. Fall will always be my favorite season.


I walked with my head down, looking at my own feet as they passed on in front of the other. I always took the same path, too. Always left at the same time.


Making my way down Pearl Street, the kind of dumpy part of the residentials, I heard some yelling from inside a house. One that was at least one hundred years by the look of it, with green shutters from which the paint peeled, curling and sharp. I was a little curious, so as I came closer to the house, I slowed down so it wouldn't look like I was loitering while trying to listen to the argument.


I pulled my long auburn hair behind my ears, better to listen with. That's when the flimsy screen door was yanked open and lithe boy, about my age, stumbled out.


He had short black hair which hung in his eyes, with a peculiar green stripe that ran in his bangs. He saw me then, because he stumbled less and made his way over to me. At this point I wasn't going anywhere anymore.


"Hey," the odd boy said to me. He smiled, which looked really nice with his angular face.


"Hi," I said quietly, my shy introvert self wanting to run and hide. At least I wasn't staring at my feet.


"You live around here?" He asked me then, still grinning.


"Yes," I told him. "I live on Eleanor."


"Do you?" The boy jerked his head to the side, getting the hair out of his eyes. "I'm Evan. Who're you?"
"Karsten."


"I'll see you around, Karsten." Evan smiled once again, tipping me a wink as he walked back into his house. I watched him as he went inside, slamming the screen door again behind him, and then heard a few more yells from inside. When everything had been quiet again for awhile, I walked back home.

--

The automatic porch light came on as I walked across my front lawn and to the front door. Well, not mine. My brother's.


I lived with my older brother, Marcus. He had my hair color, but other than that didn't look like me at all. His hair was short and curly, he was average height, and very muscular. The women all loved him, and he sure took advantage of it.


Anyways, I lived with him not because I had run away, or because my parents had died, but because they had kicked me out. Gotten rid of me. I had told my parents that I was a homosexual that summer. At first they didn't believe me. Then they did, and they were angry. More my father. Maybe he was disappointed, as if it were my fault. But, nevertheless, he told me I had a choice. Either I turned myself strait, or I left. I left. I also called Marcus, who was twenty at the time, and told him in tears about what happened. He said I was going to live with him.


He really was kind to me.

--

The next couple of days, I changed my walking route so that I passed Evan's house at least three times. I wanted to see him again.


On the third day I had done this, people were yelling inside his narrow three-story house again, so I slowed down. Sure enough, after a minute or so and four steps later, Evan tripped out of his front door.


"Evan!" I said, but just as soon I had covered my mouth. He looked up from where he had fallen to the ground, and grinned at me. I melted.


"I told you I'd see you again," he said while he sat up. He had a black eye. "I'm genius."


"Your eye," I said. I also went to sit by him in the browning grass. The cool air stirred our clothing. "What happened? Are you okay?"


"I just don't work hard enough, that's all," Evan said.


I didn't know what he meant, and must have had a look which said so.


"Don't worry about; you probably wouldn't understand anyways. What are you, ten?" Evan laughed at me. "Just kidding."


"I'm fifteen," I said. "How old are you?"


"Fourteen." Evan looked away from me, at the sun setting.


"Who gave you the black eye?"


Evan stared at me, his eyes boring holes through mine. "My father. Don't tell."


"What? Your dad did that to you?" From what I could tell, his father was an @$$, just like mine.


"Yeah. But it doesn't hurt anymore, so I don't care." He even smiled then.


I just looked down at my hands, which were resting in my lap. Fathers are awful people. I wanted to keep Evan from his.


"I'm on a walk. Come with me and stay away from him," I said to Evan. "You don't want two black eyes, do you?"


"Okay," Evan said. He stood up and so did I. We talked about anything and everything as I led the both of us home.

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