The Robot That I Am

Apparently, I am a robot.

A cold, unfeeling one.

This was told to me by a friend of mine, but I hold no harsh, bad, negative feelings towards said person for saying so. Why? Because I’ve heard it a million times before. And I’m okay with that. If being labelled a robot or bitch is what it comes to for being logical and rational in moments of ‘supposed’ crisis, then so be it. Someone has to and so I’d rather it be me.

Prologue

“It was an accident!” Cade wailed. “I swear, Noah, you gotta believe me! I would never purposely  do something like that”

 

Noah’s eyebrow arched as he stared down at the skinny blonde.

 

“Er….weeell…not to YOU at least!”

 

Noah’s frown deepened and then turning, swiftly, he stalked off down the street. He was really tired of drama and while he knew this teen was so full of it, he had let him hang around him from time to time. But, not anymore. This would be the last straw and he’d be damned if he let the younger man within twenty feet of him ever again.

 

“Wait! Noooaaaah!!”

 

He heard the scrambling feet behind him and broke out into a run. He was stronger and more importantly, faster, than Cade and in no time was around the corner, down an alley, and over the chain link fence separating the rich and extravagant  Stephens Street from the ratty ghettos laying behind on Radford’s. When his feet were firmly planted on the ground he looked back to catch one last glimpse of the man whom he had once considered a friend.

 

Cade skidded to a stop upon reaching the fence. It wasn’t too hard of a climb and jump, but one glance at the man on the other side kept him from trying. There was a look of finality in the other man’s eyes. A look that bothered Cade immensely. Surely, Noah knew he hadn’t done it on purpose. Surely, Noah could forgive him for a mistake he had never meant to commit.

 

But, no.

 

Those dark blue eyes pierced right through the fence, straight into his own and he felt his heart clench. Their gaze was so cold and empty that Cade felt the first tremor of fear pass through him.

 

“No-ah?” He whispered tentatively and shuffled closer to the fence. He lifted his hand and hooked his fingers onto the metal, so tightly, his pale fingers began to turn impossibly whiter. “Noah, please.” 

 

He leaned in closer, pressing his face against the cold metal and looked pleadingly at the dark haired man on the other side. “You can’t just leave like that. Not like that. Not over something I didn’t do on purpose! You can’t leave. You can’t leave me!”

 

Noah felt his gut twist at the begging words filling the air. He had to leave now or he wouldn’t leave ever. His gaze slid over the younger man pressed against the fence, soaking in all his features, memorizing them, knowing he’d never forget him or this day.

 

He took everything in, from the dark, ripped jeans hanging loosely off slim hips to the two sizes too large, white t-shirt swallowing the small, pale body frame and even the ridiculous looking bear hat pulled over messy blonde hair, and let it imprint into his mind. Then he looked away, shut his eyes for a second, before turning his body and walking away.

 

Cade felt like he was just punched in the stomach as he watched the retreating body walk away. No, he can’t just leave, he cried out within his mind. His pulse quickened and he opened his mouth to shout obscenities, but his voice didn’t seem to work. He was shaking, he realized and slumped against the fence before letting himself fall to his knees.

 

He gazed at the ground in numbing shock as his brain processed over the fact that Noah had left him all alone, for good. A hand lifted up wipe at his burning eyes and came away with wetness on his fingertips.

 

He was crying.

The Wednesday Wars

The Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt is one of my favorite books despite having surpassed that reading level a long while ago.

When I first came across the book, I was in a new school with few new friends and just joining a Battle of the Books club because it was everything I wanted at the time. I would be introduced to a varriety of books I’d never have come across before and I’d be able to spend more time with the librarians around me (who were much better company than annoying kids who were either discovering or exploring the opposite sex). Plus I’d be able to compete… Yes, compete. Memorizing book titles, authors, plots, passages, and quotes… was the best year ever for me.

But I digress.