Leyla’s parents were killed in a way that for most would be a thing of nightmares. It was a night that she lives through every day, and it’s written across her sweet face, the pain that she must feel.
I owe my life to her, I owe who I am, but she doesn’t know me; and yet, I know everything there is to know about Leyla. Today is the day, our fate is finally happening, we arefinallygoing to become a part of each other’s lives. I’ll repay her in a million ways for the kindness she doesn’t even remember. But I remember, and I’ll never forget.
I watch as red hair falls down her back in ringlets and I can’t help but notice she’s got really pretty eyes. One of her eyes is this arctic blue color, while her other eye is a turquoise green. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as her.
The thought of what that night was like for her, my back stiffens, my eyes widen, and breath as the fear of what she must have gone through hits me. I let the feeling fall off of me, knowing that this isn’t happening now; it happened so long ago.The only one who deserves my attention is her.I owe it all to her.
I’ve seen her around school keeping to herself, this is the first time I’ve actually heard her talk. She tends to be very quiet. We all knew her story though. Well,Iknow her story. I already know everything there is to possibly know about her that can be found on the general world wide web. I promise there’s nothing weird going on there. I just really like to know who people are, especially when they’ve got interesting stories.
I know she’s meant for more. I am going to be the one to help her– I just need to talk to her first. My dad tells me that I’m only sixteen and I’m thinking with my hormones around most girls, but none of the girls in school areher. I’m gonna marry her someday.
We all sit around in a circle and this quack of a therapist talks to all of us, but my eyes never stray from Leyla Clarkson.She’s so fucking pretty.The other guys in the group clearly all have the same idea, staring at her as if she’s a piece of meat.
We’re all dismissed after group and most of the others usually hang around talking and eating the shitty snacks that are left over. Normally, I bolt the second I can, but today I find myself lingering, picking at the table, just waiting for my turn to talk to her. Iwilltalk to her. I walk over to my friends and angle myself so I can get a good look at her.
“Dude, she’s so hot. Right?” Ryan, one of the other boys, says as he shoves some chips into his mouth
“She’s not hot, she’s beautiful,” Simon corrects quietly. Both Ryann and I turn our attention to Simon, his shaggy black hair,unkept and messy falling in front of his eyes as we hear a melodic laugh come from her direction. Everyone in group knows that Simon has always been obsessed with Leyla since the moment she joined. Simon’s eyes never leave Leyla; he bites his lip so hard at times as he’s watching her, that it starts bleeding. My blood boils at the thought of someone else looking at her in such a claiming way.
“I-I had to switch to a different math class, because I was failing.” Simon’s voice echoes around us, as he tries to interject himself into a conversation that we really don’t want to join.
Ryann’s face scrunches and he rolls his eyes, “Aren’t you like, really good at math?”
Simon replies, his eyes, the color of pitch, still never leaving Leyla’s general direction. “Leyla’s in my class too, w-we sit near each other. Sh-She’s so smart so I know that I’ll be really good at this c-class with h-her help.”
My voice is tighter than intended, clearing my throat I look to Simon. “You… switched classes to be in the same class as her? Simon, that’s fucking weird.”
An insinuation that he tries to dismiss, stammering, “N-N0! No… she just… she’s just in the same… same class as me!” Simon runs his hand through his messy black hair.
“Yea… Okay… You’re so fucking strange.” My attention is captured by a flash of Leyla’s red hair in the sunlight. She stands by a table, her laughter changing to a soft lilt as she talks to another girl. I take a breath as I hear it and let it settle in my bones.She’s perfect.
As nonchalantly as I can, I make my way over to her and I’m positive that this is gonna go perfectly. Simon tries to say somethingto me, but I’m already turning away from the table to make my way over to Leyla with this newfound confidence that I only seem to have when it has to do with her.
“Hi,” I say as I walk up as she leans on the table, deep in conversation with her friend. Her eyes widen as she looks at me in surprise, though it quickly turns to curiosity. I can tell by the way she wrinkles her brow as she angles away from me to keep talking to her friend. I clear my throat, and her eyes widen just slightly.
Those eyes that are engraved on my psyche. My memory.My heart.
“I said, ‘hi’,” I speak up a little more clearly now, a confidence coming off me that I definitely do not have. Maybe she just didn’t hear me. Her body turns toward me, quirking a brow and crossing her arms as she assesses me.
“Uh, hi?” Leyla laughs as she side-eyes her friend, Hazel Mathis.
“I’m Cameron. Do you wanna hang out?” I smile nervously as I speak to her, beginning to worry that I’m absolutely tanking this conversation. Leyla giggles as she whispers something to her friend, leaning away from me; and for that moment, I ache. Then, her friend whispers something in return and Leyla turns back to me and shrugs.
“Okay, yea, I guess?”
The smile on my face is definitely too large to be casual. I can’t help it, it’s Leyla after all. My hand runs through my hair nervously. “I’m Cameron.”
Leyla’s face scrunches. “Yeah, you said that.” She eyes me for a long, almost devastating moment before speaking to her friend without turning her way. “I’ll talk to you later, Hazel.”
Leyla
Cameron and I walk towards the park nearby. Miss Kira won’t be here to pick me up for at least another twenty-five minutes so what’s the worst thing that could happen? Hazel told me that Cameron’s mom was killed too and that he was also a foster kid. Pretty sure he’s not actually one, but I really don’t know the guy. And my therapist said making friends is something I need to work on.
I shoot Cameron an awkward smile. I was diagnosed with Selective Mutism in the months following my parents’ murder, so having normal conversations with someone I don’t know isn’t something I’m really good at. It’s like my brain wants to talk, but the words just don’t come out. But he seems nice enough that I can give it a shot.
We walk over to the swings and sit down next to each other, he looks towards me and smiles really wide again.
“Sorry for being so awkward. My therapist says I need to be better about talking to people.” He looks over at me as if that would make this interaction any less uncomfortable. I smile nevertheless, looking over the kid with the nerd glasses that decided that today I would be his next victim.
