Bleeding Suns

Lots of people have heard of love at first sight, but this was something entirely different. I never really thought about how just one person could change the course of someone else’s life. Until the day I met Davey foxglove.
I walked into Bobs burgers and scanned the crowds of teenagers packed in. I finally spotted my best friend Macy in the back booth, I waved.
I walked over; I stole a handful of salty, greasy fries as I slide into the booth.
“Hey! Get your own food! I need the brain energy, and how does CN2NO... how do you do this?” she grumbled frustrated.
“Look,” I said indicating one of the many papers cluttering the table. “You take these numbers here and cross them...”
“Hey,” she said suddenly, I looked up, “isn’t that the weird guy that everybody makes fun of? What was it, Daniel or something like that? What’s he doing here?”
I followed her gaze; sure enough the black haired, Goth-like kid was there. A bunch of jocks were laughing at him. Then he turned and came over our table.
“Pardon the interruption, but I was told to come over and speak to you.” he looked at me, expressionless, then turned his icy gaze to Macy. “However, the particular phrase they want me to utter is so vile and repugnant that I simply must refuse. So I’ll leave it at this; I walk away, you look offended and laugh at my back. Okay?” when we nodded, he did just that. He paused only once on his way out, to flip the bird at the jocks, who burst out laughing.
I stared at his black shrouded back. I said something to Macy, some lame excuse for running out and followed the strange boy.
I caught up with him on the Flint River Bridge; where I found him perched precariously on the railing.
“Why’d you follow me?” he said, not turning around.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to thank you for being so polite in the restaurant.” I was speechless, absolutely speechless; I wasn’t this nervous when I ran for student council president.
“Hmm. a bleeding Sun.” he muttered.
“What?” I said, looking out over the red water. The smell of the ocean was in the air, I could taste the salt and coming summer.
“The way the sun sits over the water, turning it red. Like a bleeding heart, a bleeding sun, on rivers of blood.” he said.
I stared at the sunset, awed.
“You’d better go, it’s getting late, and you’ll be missed.” he said.
“Oh, wait. What’s your name?” I said pausing.
“Doesn’t surprise me you don’t know it. Davey Foxglove.
I went home, somewhere almost subconsciously, to be nice to him. Perhaps we could be friends. I slept restlessly; I couldn’t get his voice out of my head, repeating the comment of bleeding suns in my mind.
The next morning I walked into homeroom, there was an announcement:
“last night the body of Daniel foxglove was found floating in the Flint River. We are all sorry for this loss, and teachers or students may report to the guidance department at any time.”





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