Stable Ground 8

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“Let’s just go back, Sam,” he said, looking hesitantly over his shoulder to the large stretch of land separating us from the school. I tries to support as much of my weight as possible without increasing the blood loss in my leg.

“Okay,” I said sarcastically, “and how do you plan to get me over the fence?” Jonathan was about to answer, but I cut him off rudely. “You’re not, so let’s just get into Truffington before I bleed out or something,” I exaggerated, attempting to pull him towards the trees that I knew hid a large town. Jonathan ignored my endeavor to move towards town. I sighed. “Ow!” I said, trying to get him to remember me, considering he seemed lost in his own world. He turned his head back around to me, an apprehensive look overtaking his always-smiling face. I felt guilty for saying ‘ouch’ and making him worry when the pain had neither peaked nor fainted.

“Fine,” he agreed finally, dragging me along beside him as we continued our path through the trees. ‘Dragging’ was a bit embellished. More like he was so gentle that it made me mad because he obviously thought I was fragile. The gesture was still sweet; rather it would have been with any other girl, probably his girlfriend back in England. That thought hurt me where it shouldn’t have. Somewhere that indicated that my crush on him was too severe. I was suddenly flared with anger at myself for liking him so much more than was healthy for any girl, especially a girl like me. The girl with the checkered past, the messed up present, and probably and most likely the dark future. The girl that was too stubborn to let anyone help her, who was the same girl that had accepted so much help from the complete stranger already. Yet my desire to be self-sufficient ebbed its way out of my mind as I leaned all my weight on him, though he didn’t seem to notice.

Before I was physically aware of it, we had stopped moving and sat stationary, looking up to the skyscrapers that spared no room. They started almost on the edge of the forest; so abrupt that if a car drove off the road in front of us, it would immediately hit a tree. Jonathan stared up at the towering buildings in awe.

“It’s New York City,” he said, sounding amazed. I looked over to him and smiled.

“No,” I corrected. “It’s Truffington.” Jonathan looked down at me- considering I was a head shorter than him-and shook his head.

“I don’t care where we are, let’s just go find a doctor,” I rolled my eyes at the urgency in his voice. He began hauling me over to the semi-busy road and called a bright yellow taxi. He loaded me into the back of the small car and climbed around to the other side, entering to sit beside me. Jonathan looked at me curiously for a moment before I realized what he was trying to figure out. I moved my foot against his awkwardly to provide warmth, flattered that he cared, surprised with the courtesy he implied. Jonathan looked up to the man in the front after I smiled in embarrassed assurance.

“The nearest hospital, please,” he instructed the gruff-looking driver of the cab: he wore a wife-beater t-shirt, decorated with what I supposed to be a ketchup stain, which outlined his disturbingly large stomach. Also a ratty hat that read: “University of Phoenix“, a school which I would surely guess he had never attended, or even laid eyes on. His matted beard was visible, too, as he turned his head, seeing what I saw only briefly.

“Quickly,” Jonathan added. I couldn’t be sure, but by the quickness of his grab, I guessed the driver had snatched three bills from the passenger’s seat. Bills that had major numbers on it, bills that I hoped he would use to clean himself up, bills that Jonathan had used to persuade the driver to go as fast as possible. I gaped at the kid who sat beside me. The kid who I had so wrongly accused of murder, the kid who was now assuring my safety in every way possible. Jonathan ignored my stare, though, so I averted my eyes away to examine the taxi. I was pleased to see that the upholstery of the car was ripped mildly, worn, and stained in certain places, so my bloody leg was only making the style more intense. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder sickly what the other stains were.

The grimy man drove east, through crowded intersections and past many pedestrians who looked at home walking the streets of the town. Jonathan was looking out the window with the slightest of smiles dancing on his face.. He thought I was done asking questions; thought I was comfortable with not knowing his secret. Too bad for him. The only reason I didn’t begin firing questions off at him right then and there was to spare the driver a headache.





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lexi<3 said...
Dec. 19, 2009 at 4:13 pm
hi! this is my story! the only reason im on here is because im procrastinating because im supposed to be typing a paper!!!!!=( boo. i kno. im a dork. the typing sounds r making my mom think im working tho so tht countsssss =) ttys!
 
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